"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep"
My mom and dad just sent me this. Thought I'd share.
(Click to enlarge)
Dust mentioned my Library page the other day, and I realized I hadn't updated it in some time. For what it's worth, and for those who care, it is now updated. The book highlighted in blue/purple is what I am currently reading. Because I am concerned about your time, dear reader, (or because I'm a book geek that way) I have included links for each and every book on the list. Also, these are my "fun" books, that is, it does not include most of the books I've read for classes.
Physical Therapy and the Garlic Press of Romance
What do children listen to while in physical therapy? Queen, of course. I worked with Kara* (the extremely fragile girl I spoke of yesterday) today in physical therapy. We placed her on her stomach on a large, gently sloping pad, and rested her forehead on another one while I massaged her back and tried to loosen the incredibly stiff muscles in her arms. Once her initial convulsions subsided, she just laid there and grinning and cooing (she can't speak). It was nice to actually see her enjoying something.
*All names changed for obvious reasons.
Completely unrelated, but while I was in Jewel tonight I was looking at a garlic press, and a very pretty and very nice woman told me that it didn't work very well. She offered a couple of alternatives, and told me about some kind of rubber tube thing that is used to skin the cloves. We talked a little about cooking, I thanked her, and continued shopping.
While I was checking out, I saw her near the exit. She turned to look at me, and then, she walked out. The voices started screaming inside my head as the weight of what had just occurred settled over me. A potential opportunity, wasted. Just call me Don Juan.
*Anybody have any idea where I can get one of those garlic peeler/skinner things? Or better yet, that lovely little chef's phone number?
Whiny little Puke
That would refer to me. I finally started my special education observation today. I was told that one girl was given the wrong medicine when she was very little. Now, she is fourteen, legally blind, and confined to a wheelchair. We are trying to teach her how to hold an electric toothbrush. You can't help but wonder what she might have done with her life, had she not been robbed of it by some quack. Another (much younger) girl is so fragile that it hurts for her to sit in the wheelchair. The highlight of her day is when we take her out and lay her in a beanbag. Needless to say, it was heartbreaking. I'm always complaining about these minor difficulties in my life, and this little girl can't even sit in a wheelchair without convulsions of pain.
What my return to college has taught me thus far:
1) Never, under any circumstances, give anyone the benefit of the doubt. If the lady in financial aid tells you your application has already been processed, and you are completely covered, do not believe her. Double check with someone else from financial aid, and then cross check that information with accounts payable. Likewise, if an academic advisor tells you that a certain course will fulfill your requirements, always, always, ALWAYS double check that information with another advisor. Furthermore, always double check that the information given by the English department coincides with that given by LAS and the Education department.
Similarly, when someone tells you that they are going to do something, never, ever assume that they actually will. Always follow up and baby-sit said person or department until the task is completed.
2) Many academics are not interested in academic discussion so much as academic persuasion. Many promote this persuasion under the guise of discussion or debate, in that you are allowed to disagree so long as your argument does not completely undermine theirs. Your difference of opinion must fall within the boundaries of their overall beliefs.
I'm not sure I'm getting what I paid for.
Loving Da Goddess
Da Goddess said some very kind words about me, and I'm truly honored. She also had the job interview of the century, and a reinactment of Noah's Arc (minus the Arc) in her bathroom. Everybody go wish her luck on the job and while your there, help her with that mountain of soaked towels.
The way to a man's . . .
Living in the Folds
Yesterday I was listening to this song, and the lines
"Found myself a picture that would fit in the folds
sparked a whole mess of musings to bounce around between my ears.
In general, we are emotional pack-rats - hiding various things away in any and every space we can find. We tuck pictures into lockets and/or wallets. We press roses, four-leaf clovers, cards, and notes between the pages of our books. Entire relationships get compressed into a single memento. We fold memories between the pages of our hearts.
So what happens as we become more digital? As parts of our lives become more virtual? As more and more relationships form and exist entirely online? What will become of our keepsakes? An mp3? An email? Some piece of digital artwork? Can something be a memento if it isn't tangible?
Maybe the abrasive wind on Harrison St. reduced my brain to the slow buzz of a fly in winter, or maybe it was the ratio of 1:10 sleep hours to awake hours I've been maintaining since Sunday, or maybe I'm just easily amused/fascinated.
My views toward the death penalty have changed considerably over the past year or so. DNA evidence and other advances in forensic science has proven convicts innocent, many years if not entire lives have been wasted - how do you reconcile a mistake of such magnitude?
Regardless, there are still a few crimes where I whole-heartedly support the death penalty, and probably shall until my dying day.
If you stop on a crowded staircase to tell your friend,
"You'll never guess what __________ told me," the
person behind you has the
2) Likewise, if you stop immediately after entering or exiting the El or subway you should be forced to strip naked and dance on the third rail for the entertainment of those who have lost part of their lives because you were so self-involved you couldn't take three more steps before digging in your purse/backpack for that lost lint covered Life-Saver. Furthermore, if you haven't slipped and fried yourself during the next 10 minutes, the driver of the next train will not be held responsible for greasing the tracks with your egocentric ass.
There are more - I'm sure of it. I'll add them as they come to me, and as always, feel free to add your own.
Hip, Slick, and Cool
Leavin' the shattered concrete and splintered glass behind for the weekend. Might post from the sticks if I can get a long enough extension cord. Later.