I would like to post another blog before the month of June is over so I can double what I am currently averaging. Yes, my stellar record of one post a month is nothing to write home about (probably a bad cliche to use). And yet, here we are, June 29th, and about 1/3 of the summer is nothing but a memory... of which I have nearly nothing to show.
KIDDING. What I mean is, I still have yet to take a picture this summer, which is sad. However, I am well on my way to cruising through my summer bucket list. So, here is my original list which was posted on May 2nd and appropriate updates:
1. Move out of my parents house
Check. I moved out about 6 weeks ago (see previous entry) into a place in Sherman Hill. I love everything about living here - biking all over, walking to Gateway Market, being super close to downtown and everything that entails, being on my own, and even my incredibly bizarre neighbor who grills out EVERY SINGLE DAY and sings at the top of his lungs while he does it EVERY SINGLE TIME.
2.Get a tattoo
Check. If I want you to know where it is and what it looks like, I've probably already shown you. Cheers to my friend Angie for hooking me up with Bradie at Mid Air Ink downtown.
3. Attend my first music festival
Not quite check, but sitting next to me is a ticket to Camp Euforia July 15-16, a bluegrass/jam music festival just south of Iowa City. Needless to say I'm absurdly excited for it.
4. Skydive with my mother
Not yet. All I can say is soon... very soon.
6. Farmer's Market, Art Fest, 80/35, and all the other Des Moines staples I missed last summer
Respectively: check, check, not quite check (it's this weekend). I'll also throw in Capitol City Pride and Nitefall on the River as "Des Moines staples."
7. Adopt a kitty from the ARL
OBVIOUSLY check.
8. Go to Traverse City for the annual film festival
Hopefully check. That weekend is also the 48-hour Film Fest. Le sigh.
9. Camp as much as possible with the people I love the mostest :)
Soon to be check. Heading on a camping/kayaking/4th of July bonanza this weekend!
10. Spontaneous roadtrip
Check. Chris and I drove to Missouri the other day to buy fireworks for the aforementioned camping trip. We were in the state for about an hour... just enough time to blow about a hundred bucks and eat at a kitschy diner in Eagleville, MO.
11. Convince Kalena to move back to Des Moines
CHECK. Well, it wasn't solely because of me, but she is indeed moving back to the Dez at the end of July. WHADDUP.
12. Hit up all the places on my ''Periodic Table of Des Moines'' shirt I haven't been.
Pseudo-check. Hey, give me a break; there are 118 (or is it 119 now?) on the shirt and I'm missing adventures at about half of them.
So all in all, a pretty successful summer so far. There is still a lot of livin' left to do. Once again, here's to actually documenting the damn things I'm doing...
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
rainbow-colored lenses.
"Had she not found this outlet in writing, she may have grown up to become a tremendous liar." - A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
That quote is one of my favorites from one of my favorite books, primarily because it rings true with me. I'm not a very good liar, and it may be because I have taken to writing my entire life so I am used to thinking things through to the point where lying is next to impossible.
It is officially summer. I'm working big-girl hours so it isn't summer in the way it was as a student, but it is summer in the sense that I spend my days grilling out, riding my bike, sitting on patios, and listening to live music outdoors... sometimes simultaneously. I moved out of my parents' house about a month ago (check that one off my summer to-do list!) into an apartment down in Sherman Hill. Yes, I live in a hippie-filled, gentrified neighborhood chalk full of historical old buildings and an organic grocery store on the corner. You know I love living my cliche. You also know I love living thisclose to downtown. Since moving here, the only places I drive my car is to work, my parents' house in Urbandale, or Chris' house on the far northside. Otherwise, I whiz about town on my hybrid white Bianchi bike. Come fall, I also plan on biking to Drake's campus, especially because there is a designated bike lane along Cottage Grove Ave. just calling my name!
Other highlights of my summer thus far have been live music events at Simon Estes, el Bait Shop, and the Mews. I'm seeing Mumford and Sons in Omaha in TWO days with Kate, 80/35 is coming up in a few weeks, and my first music festival another few after that (another off my summer checklist!). Today was the Capitol City Pride fest in the East Village. I went with Anna and couldn't take any pictures because my camera's battery died, so use your imagination to picture this: a rainbow exploded along Grand Avenue and left everybody smiling and dancing around, even the cardboard cut-out of Obama that was making the rounds.
Another thing I can check off my list this summer is adoping a kitty from the ARL. Ladies and gentlemen, and random readers of the internet, let me introduce you to Gatsby:
Tell me you could have looked at that nose at the ARL and not adopted her yourself. Exactly!
I wish I could leave this blogpost off with an enthusiastic explanation about how the rest of my summer so far has consisted solely of me reading and cooking, but that would be lying. Unfortunately life isn't always a perfect blogpost, so in the spirit of being truthful I'm going to talk about the not-so-happy.
Let me start off by saying that my dad is a pretty legit guy. He is a self-made success story: he worked his way through college, started a business, has been in a faithful marriage for 37 years, is a well-known and well-liked guy around town, and has one of the most amazing daughters possible (kidding). He is also a cancer survivor. When I was in 6th grade, my dad faught and beat colon cancer. That time period is a collection of hazy memories, partly because I was so young but also because I think our brain has a way of blurring things that we can't quite comprehend otherwise. I don't like remembering my dad when he was going through chemo, so as a result I don't really remember it.
A few weeks ago, my dad went to the doctor for what he thought was kidney stones, and came home with the knowledge that there were masses present and the doctors believed them to be cancerous. A biopsy showed they were, and surgery was scheduled to remove them. Further lab reports showed that the masses were the same cancer from before; it had been dormant and randomly manifested itself 12 years later. Cancer does that. Because cancer sucks. Physically speaking, the good news is that it was caught early once again. The surgery went well and doctors are hoping chemo won't be necessary. Psychologically speaking, this is the worst thing that can happen. Any cancer survivor will tell you that getting cancer again is probably one of their worst fears. So not only getting cancer again, but getting the same cancer again is damaging to mind and soul. But like I said earlier, my dad is legit. He is fighting this like it's terrorism. As in, he's doing everything like normal and fighting through the exhaustion and pain. I help my mom by chastising him and forcing him to sit down, but in my heart all I can do is look on in awe. He's been a fighter his whole life, and this is only another round.
Despite that, I cannot recall a time in my life when I've been as happy as I am right now. I am surrounded by amazing people and my life is full of amazing blessings. For the time being, I'm ok with basking in that happiness. In the long term, I need to find my camera charger so I can start documenting what is already becoming a simply superb summer.
That quote is one of my favorites from one of my favorite books, primarily because it rings true with me. I'm not a very good liar, and it may be because I have taken to writing my entire life so I am used to thinking things through to the point where lying is next to impossible.
It is officially summer. I'm working big-girl hours so it isn't summer in the way it was as a student, but it is summer in the sense that I spend my days grilling out, riding my bike, sitting on patios, and listening to live music outdoors... sometimes simultaneously. I moved out of my parents' house about a month ago (check that one off my summer to-do list!) into an apartment down in Sherman Hill. Yes, I live in a hippie-filled, gentrified neighborhood chalk full of historical old buildings and an organic grocery store on the corner. You know I love living my cliche. You also know I love living thisclose to downtown. Since moving here, the only places I drive my car is to work, my parents' house in Urbandale, or Chris' house on the far northside. Otherwise, I whiz about town on my hybrid white Bianchi bike. Come fall, I also plan on biking to Drake's campus, especially because there is a designated bike lane along Cottage Grove Ave. just calling my name!
Other highlights of my summer thus far have been live music events at Simon Estes, el Bait Shop, and the Mews. I'm seeing Mumford and Sons in Omaha in TWO days with Kate, 80/35 is coming up in a few weeks, and my first music festival another few after that (another off my summer checklist!). Today was the Capitol City Pride fest in the East Village. I went with Anna and couldn't take any pictures because my camera's battery died, so use your imagination to picture this: a rainbow exploded along Grand Avenue and left everybody smiling and dancing around, even the cardboard cut-out of Obama that was making the rounds.
Another thing I can check off my list this summer is adoping a kitty from the ARL. Ladies and gentlemen, and random readers of the internet, let me introduce you to Gatsby:
Tell me you could have looked at that nose at the ARL and not adopted her yourself. Exactly!
I wish I could leave this blogpost off with an enthusiastic explanation about how the rest of my summer so far has consisted solely of me reading and cooking, but that would be lying. Unfortunately life isn't always a perfect blogpost, so in the spirit of being truthful I'm going to talk about the not-so-happy.
Let me start off by saying that my dad is a pretty legit guy. He is a self-made success story: he worked his way through college, started a business, has been in a faithful marriage for 37 years, is a well-known and well-liked guy around town, and has one of the most amazing daughters possible (kidding). He is also a cancer survivor. When I was in 6th grade, my dad faught and beat colon cancer. That time period is a collection of hazy memories, partly because I was so young but also because I think our brain has a way of blurring things that we can't quite comprehend otherwise. I don't like remembering my dad when he was going through chemo, so as a result I don't really remember it.
A few weeks ago, my dad went to the doctor for what he thought was kidney stones, and came home with the knowledge that there were masses present and the doctors believed them to be cancerous. A biopsy showed they were, and surgery was scheduled to remove them. Further lab reports showed that the masses were the same cancer from before; it had been dormant and randomly manifested itself 12 years later. Cancer does that. Because cancer sucks. Physically speaking, the good news is that it was caught early once again. The surgery went well and doctors are hoping chemo won't be necessary. Psychologically speaking, this is the worst thing that can happen. Any cancer survivor will tell you that getting cancer again is probably one of their worst fears. So not only getting cancer again, but getting the same cancer again is damaging to mind and soul. But like I said earlier, my dad is legit. He is fighting this like it's terrorism. As in, he's doing everything like normal and fighting through the exhaustion and pain. I help my mom by chastising him and forcing him to sit down, but in my heart all I can do is look on in awe. He's been a fighter his whole life, and this is only another round.
Despite that, I cannot recall a time in my life when I've been as happy as I am right now. I am surrounded by amazing people and my life is full of amazing blessings. For the time being, I'm ok with basking in that happiness. In the long term, I need to find my camera charger so I can start documenting what is already becoming a simply superb summer.
Monday, May 02, 2011
summer of '69ish.
Whew!
Today marked my last day of long-term subbing my freshman. I will miss some of those kiddos - they were a good bunch and made me laugh often. For the most part, I'm happy to be done because, frankly, I'm ridiculously tired and really over reading Romeo and Juliet. I feel bad for the students because the regular teacher is less-than-enthusiastic about, well, being a teacher to ALL students, not just the ones that get As. This will forever dishearten me, but I think you'll find this no matter where you look. School reform is a long, convoluted topic I won't get into.
Because I'm finished teaching and I am going back to school in the fall, this is technically the beginning of my summer vacation. I'll be working at the law firm between having the best summer of my life (yes, superlative, and no, I don't feel bad) and getting ready to embark on what can only be described as mental abuse in the form of law school. That said, I do have a few goals for this summer. Broadcasting them in public will hopefully hold me accountable to these goals, but only time will tell.
- Move out of my parents house (less than one month and counting!);
- Get a tattoo (I do have a design and placement in mind, and no I won't discuss it - it's personal);
- Attend my first music festival;
- Skydive with my mother (this is 100% a sure thing, actually);
- Read all the books on my list (found below);
- Farmer's Market, Art Fest, 80/35, and all the other Des Moines staples I missed last summer;
- Adopt a kitty from the ARL;
- Go to Traverse City for the annual film festival (THE most fun I have every summer);
- Camp as much as possible with the people I love the mostest :);
- Spontaneous roadtrip. Anywhere, I don't care;
- Convince Kalena to move back to Des Moines ASAP;
- Hit up all the places on my ''Periodic Table of Des Moines'' shirt I haven't been.
And the books I am going to read or re-read:
"Brave New World" -Aldous Huxley
"Mere Christianity" -C.S. Lewis
"Small Footprint, Big Handprint" -Tri Robinson
"Hunger Games" - Suzanne Collins
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" - Betty Smith (finish reading this one)
"Rock Encyclopedia" - Lillian Roxon (anthology up to 1969)
...and plenty, plenty more.
This is going to be a wonderful summer, I can just tell. Here's to May!
-
Today marked my last day of long-term subbing my freshman. I will miss some of those kiddos - they were a good bunch and made me laugh often. For the most part, I'm happy to be done because, frankly, I'm ridiculously tired and really over reading Romeo and Juliet. I feel bad for the students because the regular teacher is less-than-enthusiastic about, well, being a teacher to ALL students, not just the ones that get As. This will forever dishearten me, but I think you'll find this no matter where you look. School reform is a long, convoluted topic I won't get into.
Because I'm finished teaching and I am going back to school in the fall, this is technically the beginning of my summer vacation. I'll be working at the law firm between having the best summer of my life (yes, superlative, and no, I don't feel bad) and getting ready to embark on what can only be described as mental abuse in the form of law school. That said, I do have a few goals for this summer. Broadcasting them in public will hopefully hold me accountable to these goals, but only time will tell.
- Move out of my parents house (less than one month and counting!);
- Get a tattoo (I do have a design and placement in mind, and no I won't discuss it - it's personal);
- Attend my first music festival;
- Skydive with my mother (this is 100% a sure thing, actually);
- Read all the books on my list (found below);
- Farmer's Market, Art Fest, 80/35, and all the other Des Moines staples I missed last summer;
- Adopt a kitty from the ARL;
- Go to Traverse City for the annual film festival (THE most fun I have every summer);
- Camp as much as possible with the people I love the mostest :);
- Spontaneous roadtrip. Anywhere, I don't care;
- Convince Kalena to move back to Des Moines ASAP;
- Hit up all the places on my ''Periodic Table of Des Moines'' shirt I haven't been.
And the books I am going to read or re-read:
"Brave New World" -Aldous Huxley
"Mere Christianity" -C.S. Lewis
"Small Footprint, Big Handprint" -Tri Robinson
"Hunger Games" - Suzanne Collins
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" - Betty Smith (finish reading this one)
"Rock Encyclopedia" - Lillian Roxon (anthology up to 1969)
...and plenty, plenty more.
This is going to be a wonderful summer, I can just tell. Here's to May!
-
Friday, March 18, 2011
the best things are green.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." - Charles Dickens
"Times they are a'changing." - Bob Dylan
"Take time to deliberate; but when the time for action arrives, stop thinking and go in." - Napoleon
Obviously, the concept of time has been on my mind recently; I don't have enough of it, I'm having the best of it, I'm trying to chase it, and I'm trying to plan for the future of it. But most of all, I'm trying to learn how to balance it. Somehow I managed to finish my formal education and graduate from a post-secondary university (with relatively decent grade points), and I still don't know if I have that elusive time management skill down pat. I say this because I wasted all of today doing nothing productive. And yet, it was entirely productive. You see, I'm on spring break.
Ahh, spring break. I've managed to have a spring break for two years past most people my age, and it appears with law school on the horizon (more on that later, perhaps in an entirely different post) I am signing up for three more. Tough break. Well, except for that whole law school thing. But again, more on that later.
"Times they are a'changing." - Bob Dylan
"Take time to deliberate; but when the time for action arrives, stop thinking and go in." - Napoleon
Obviously, the concept of time has been on my mind recently; I don't have enough of it, I'm having the best of it, I'm trying to chase it, and I'm trying to plan for the future of it. But most of all, I'm trying to learn how to balance it. Somehow I managed to finish my formal education and graduate from a post-secondary university (with relatively decent grade points), and I still don't know if I have that elusive time management skill down pat. I say this because I wasted all of today doing nothing productive. And yet, it was entirely productive. You see, I'm on spring break.
Ahh, spring break. I've managed to have a spring break for two years past most people my age, and it appears with law school on the horizon (more on that later, perhaps in an entirely different post) I am signing up for three more. Tough break. Well, except for that whole law school thing. But again, more on that later.
This spring break has been one of the best of my memory. I would say going to Italy in high school trumps, but even still that is placing this past week as #2 of 23. Not too shabby. I spent five days in one of my favorite places: Colorado. I drove out there right after school on Friday with one of my oldest friends, Julia. Our plan was to meet up with one of my other old friends, Becky, who relocated to Denver about five years ago. Along for the ride was Julia's co-worker Abby, as well as Chris and Kylie, and one of his law school school buddies Matt. The boys and girls drove separately (gross, cooties!), with the boys beating us there by about six hours; six hours that they made sure to do some damage in. I got to drive around Denver at 2am trying to find an apartment that didn't exist, according to Google, just to bring every
one back to our hotel right in the center of the city. Yes, it sounds like a cluster, and it was. But it was also a lot of fun, and the initial separation of the genders allowed for some solid, and much needed, girl time. I've known Julia and Becky since I was a very small girl. In fact, we were in the same girl scout troop. For your viewing pleasure, here is a scanned gem. That is Julia on the far left with the stylish crimped hair, Becky on the far right in the ever-classic mustard colored t-shirt, and me second from the right with my trendy-yet-practical bowl cut. If we only knew then what we know now...
Denver remains one of my favorite cities. It has an understandable focus on sustainability, it is remarkably clean, and there are such wonderful gems as the Doughboy Ba
kery and the Mellow Mushroom pizza parlor. Of course we hit up both, as well as a St. Patrick's Day parade. We ended up at a bar called Sport's Column, which had an identical emblem as the Sport's Column (or SpoCo, as it is fondly called) in Iowa City. Imagine our further surprise when there were Iowa flags inside and the bar stamp was a tiny, yet distinctive "IOWA." I took a picture of my hand with my POS BlackBerry, but you can see the stamp as well as my cliche green beer.
From Denver, we made the beautiful drive through the mountains to Dillon, which is a quaint town right in the middle of all the resorts. We're all poor and could only afford to stay at the Dillon Motel, which turned out to be one of the best worst ideas ever. We skied Keystone on Sunday, which w
as Julia's first time skiing. She was a really great sport about learning on actual runs (which I maintain is the best method) until we wound up on a blue. Oops, sorry Juj. Our second day we went to Copper, which I had never skiied before. Chris and I took to the back of the mountain and I did my first black diamond run. It was easily the most physically challenging thing I've done in years, but it was easily the most gratifying as well. I took this picture from my phone, and poor quality and all, you can't deny the beauty of the Rockies. Copper is also now my favorite resort. It is really boarder-friendly, and although I don't snowboard I appreciate that the trick parks are on one side of the mountain, effectively separating snowboarders from skiers. Let's face it, snowboarders can be huge assholes to skiers, and vice-versa. I hope to make the transition to boarder next time I'm in Colorado, but until then, I stand with the skiers.
From our adventures skiing, we made the drive up to Fort Collins, home to Colorado State University and some of the best breweries in the world. We started off at ODells, which is a much smaller brewery that distributes in only a handful of states. I brought home
a case of their 90 Shilling Ale, so if you're in Des Moines you know I'll be spreading the wealth. From ODells we walked the block to New Belgium, making a pit stop at a playground on the way to swing with the children. Going to New Belgium Brewery has been on my bucket list for years, since the first time I heard about how ethically and environmentally-minded the company is. The tour absolutely did not disappoint, although Julia's camera dying did. This is the only picture I have from the brewery, and once again it's from my crap phone. If you've never heard of New Beligum, or you've tried the deliciousness of Fat Tire but don't know about the company, check out their website. You will surely be impressed with what a phenomenal company it is. At the end of the tour, our guide told us how to apply for jobs with the Brewery. We decided Julia will be the brewery's financial accountant, I'll take over the legal department (in a few years of course), Chris will be the health and safety director, and Becky will design all interior structures and elements. Now, we just need to convince the company of this plan, but I have faith it will all work out.
I truly do adore Colorado, and I hope that one day I am lucky enough to live there. There is no denying my jealousy that Becky goes snowboarding about once a week during the season and routinely hikes and camps during the warmer months. Plus, the state seems to embody the philosophy of sustainable and environmentally-conscious, active and healthy living. You know this pseudo-hippie is down with that. The rest of my spring break was spent in good old Des Moines, which included St. Patrick's Day. I am about 50% Irish and take that very seriously. I don't really participate in the get-crazy-drunk activities of most people, although I do go out. I mostly value the heritage and history behind the day, so I tend to take it far more low-key. I'll leave you with two photos, one of people, one of a far better species. My dog-envy goes crazy when I'm around this particular canine, so that is only one of many pictures I took of him.
Kate and I at the parade downtown.
one back to our hotel right in the center of the city. Yes, it sounds like a cluster, and it was. But it was also a lot of fun, and the initial separation of the genders allowed for some solid, and much needed, girl time. I've known Julia and Becky since I was a very small girl. In fact, we were in the same girl scout troop. For your viewing pleasure, here is a scanned gem. That is Julia on the far left with the stylish crimped hair, Becky on the far right in the ever-classic mustard colored t-shirt, and me second from the right with my trendy-yet-practical bowl cut. If we only knew then what we know now...Denver remains one of my favorite cities. It has an understandable focus on sustainability, it is remarkably clean, and there are such wonderful gems as the Doughboy Ba
kery and the Mellow Mushroom pizza parlor. Of course we hit up both, as well as a St. Patrick's Day parade. We ended up at a bar called Sport's Column, which had an identical emblem as the Sport's Column (or SpoCo, as it is fondly called) in Iowa City. Imagine our further surprise when there were Iowa flags inside and the bar stamp was a tiny, yet distinctive "IOWA." I took a picture of my hand with my POS BlackBerry, but you can see the stamp as well as my cliche green beer.From Denver, we made the beautiful drive through the mountains to Dillon, which is a quaint town right in the middle of all the resorts. We're all poor and could only afford to stay at the Dillon Motel, which turned out to be one of the best worst ideas ever. We skied Keystone on Sunday, which w
as Julia's first time skiing. She was a really great sport about learning on actual runs (which I maintain is the best method) until we wound up on a blue. Oops, sorry Juj. Our second day we went to Copper, which I had never skiied before. Chris and I took to the back of the mountain and I did my first black diamond run. It was easily the most physically challenging thing I've done in years, but it was easily the most gratifying as well. I took this picture from my phone, and poor quality and all, you can't deny the beauty of the Rockies. Copper is also now my favorite resort. It is really boarder-friendly, and although I don't snowboard I appreciate that the trick parks are on one side of the mountain, effectively separating snowboarders from skiers. Let's face it, snowboarders can be huge assholes to skiers, and vice-versa. I hope to make the transition to boarder next time I'm in Colorado, but until then, I stand with the skiers.From our adventures skiing, we made the drive up to Fort Collins, home to Colorado State University and some of the best breweries in the world. We started off at ODells, which is a much smaller brewery that distributes in only a handful of states. I brought home
a case of their 90 Shilling Ale, so if you're in Des Moines you know I'll be spreading the wealth. From ODells we walked the block to New Belgium, making a pit stop at a playground on the way to swing with the children. Going to New Belgium Brewery has been on my bucket list for years, since the first time I heard about how ethically and environmentally-minded the company is. The tour absolutely did not disappoint, although Julia's camera dying did. This is the only picture I have from the brewery, and once again it's from my crap phone. If you've never heard of New Beligum, or you've tried the deliciousness of Fat Tire but don't know about the company, check out their website. You will surely be impressed with what a phenomenal company it is. At the end of the tour, our guide told us how to apply for jobs with the Brewery. We decided Julia will be the brewery's financial accountant, I'll take over the legal department (in a few years of course), Chris will be the health and safety director, and Becky will design all interior structures and elements. Now, we just need to convince the company of this plan, but I have faith it will all work out.I truly do adore Colorado, and I hope that one day I am lucky enough to live there. There is no denying my jealousy that Becky goes snowboarding about once a week during the season and routinely hikes and camps during the warmer months. Plus, the state seems to embody the philosophy of sustainable and environmentally-conscious, active and healthy living. You know this pseudo-hippie is down with that. The rest of my spring break was spent in good old Des Moines, which included St. Patrick's Day. I am about 50% Irish and take that very seriously. I don't really participate in the get-crazy-drunk activities of most people, although I do go out. I mostly value the heritage and history behind the day, so I tend to take it far more low-key. I'll leave you with two photos, one of people, one of a far better species. My dog-envy goes crazy when I'm around this particular canine, so that is only one of many pictures I took of him.
Kate and I at the parade downtown.
And here's Mojo. Don't mind his pink eye.
So, here's to a good spring break, and hopefully a few more just as wonderful. All in good time, as with that post I'll make some day about law school... Until then, slainte!
Friday, February 25, 2011
wagon wheel college town.
It's been almost a month since I last posted a blog. The main reason for this was I had a jury duty summons at the beginning of February and was selected for an extensive, high-profile trial in Des Moines. During the voir dire (the attorney questioning process which precedes actual selection) the defense attorney told us we'd likely be Googled and researched, and selected accordingly. I wanted to be selected just for the experience, so I took a self-imposed hiatus from anything online that I don't have on lock down (such as Facebook and Twitter). The trial has since ended (she took a guilty plea after making us sit through 8 days of testimony and evidence, which for a white-collar crime is absurdly boring), so I am back with a vengance. Sort of.
As I type this, I am one of the hipsters at the Java House in Iowa City. I am using my trendy MacBook, wearing my blue scarf and Toms shoes, and am drinking the Organic fair-trade coffee option they have brewing today (but that isn't even true since the Java House adheres to the most pretentious of coffee processes by doing individual pours). In other words, I'm back in a college town and I look like everyone else. I lived in Iowa City for five years, and yet I somehow managed to forget what the town is even like in the year or so I've been gone. Let me see if I can explain.
I rolled into town with the smile on my face that only Iowa City can produce. The river is high, as usual, the Cambus drivers are assholes, as usual, and the streets are not plowed despite getting about 4 inches of snow last night, as usual. I drive up Dubuque Street purposely listening to Z102.9, in all its Top-40s glory and come to that terrible intersection of Dubuque and Church St. If you're familar with Iowa City, you're well aware that this intersection marks the beginning of the most obnoxious, unorganized cluster of street intersections this side of China. Iowa City is old; it was the original state capitol of Iowa back in the formation of the state in 1846. The streets are narrow, there are no turn lanes, and the houses are all up in everyone's business as they are nearly flush with the curbs. Iowa City is also a college town (thank you, Captain Obvious), so there are literally cars everywhere. What, you don't think a Toyota Corolla can parallel park in a space about 5 feet wide? Allow the law of physics to be disproved as only they can in a college town. Where there aren't cars, there are people. Everywhere (yes, I know I am overusing italics in this post; there are just too many things to emphasize). People jumping off buses, people running to catch buses, people darting across traffic, people texting on their iPhones while looking down as they cross Clinton Street, people jaywalking (I guess they have since stopped ticketing people for this), and of course my personal favorite, people walking en masse across the street despite having a "no walk" sign. Safety in numbers, right?
I finally give up on finding a free parking spot (I have mad parallel parking skills, but not quite like that Corolla driver) and jump from parking garage to parking garage, all of which are full. I end up parking at the edge of campus, and become one of the thousands of people walking around campus in the 28 degree weather. I honestly forgot what it's like to walk everywhere; I make a concerted effort to walk places around my house in Des Moines, but it's not nearly to the extent of the walking you do in college. So as I'm leaping over puddles and trying to avoid the Chicago sorostitutes talking about, like, OMG what happened last night?! on their iPhone 5Gs (didn't even know those existed yet, did you?!), my feet are freezing because I am wearing Toms, which are made of canvas. Simply brilliant, Kelli.
My first stop is Which Wich, a sandwich shop descended from heaven and one of the things I miss most about this city. I walk in and immediately see boob. Yes, boob. Some lady is breastfeeding her infant at the front table of Which Wich. She's wearing a Bohemian tie-dye skirt and a "Free Tibet" shirt (which I couldn't see at first, given that she had her shirt pulled up to her neck), and I have the urge to tell her that Tibet doesn't want to be free. But instead I simply shake my head at the open liberalness of Iowa City and go to order my sandwich. After Which Wich I make my way over to the Java House for a Nutty Irish Coffee (non-alcoholic, counter to logical belief by the name) and settle into one of the warm chairs to study for the test I have in a few hours. All is well until a twitchy man comes up to me, addresses me as 'little lady,' and asks if I will move chairs to he can set up a UITV camera to tape the weekly Java Blends show. I inwardly groan as I realize that it is Friday, and there are some who actually believe people watch the University television station, in particular a show with hairy, hemp-wearing dudes playing harmonica in a coffee house.
Let me just say, I have nothing against any of this. Wear your hemp, sport your beard proudly, hell, play the harmonica as it is a dying instrument that has a major place in American history. But why - WHY - must you take up half of the Java House, kick me out of my seat because you need the space to set up a camera, do a sound check for 30 minutes, and then glare at me when I put my headphones in? For goodness' sake - this isn't cultural, it's annoying.
I love Iowa City, I really do. I had a wonderful college experience and this town has a lot of opportunities and unique traits that encourage conversation, learning, and understanding among different types of people. If anything, we need more of that in today's world (see the recent situation in Wisconsin, which is really a display of immature stubbornness and a refusal to even seek compromise). But I'll be damned with the pretentiousness of the place. I am even guilty of it, as evidence by my previous sarcastically stereotyped description of the female students from the Chicago area.
But another thing about college towns is that you are continually challenged in your beliefs and made to re-evaluate your previously held conceptions. Case in point: Mr. Harmonica has since left the stage and a bluegrass band has taken over, leading with "Wagon Wheel," one of my favorite bluegrass songs. My Toms-clad feet are suddenly bouncing, and I'm shaking my head with the appreciation of the culture I've stumbled across in this college town coffee house. I'm also faced with the realization that I made a premature judgment, and now feel a little bit hypocritical. Fortunately, college towns are a mecca of self-improvement (although in some cases, self-destruction, but luckily not always), so I know it is a short-lived shame that will dissipate in favor of cultural appreciation and acceptance.
Parking, people, pretention, and all... I miss this place.
As I type this, I am one of the hipsters at the Java House in Iowa City. I am using my trendy MacBook, wearing my blue scarf and Toms shoes, and am drinking the Organic fair-trade coffee option they have brewing today (but that isn't even true since the Java House adheres to the most pretentious of coffee processes by doing individual pours). In other words, I'm back in a college town and I look like everyone else. I lived in Iowa City for five years, and yet I somehow managed to forget what the town is even like in the year or so I've been gone. Let me see if I can explain.
I rolled into town with the smile on my face that only Iowa City can produce. The river is high, as usual, the Cambus drivers are assholes, as usual, and the streets are not plowed despite getting about 4 inches of snow last night, as usual. I drive up Dubuque Street purposely listening to Z102.9, in all its Top-40s glory and come to that terrible intersection of Dubuque and Church St. If you're familar with Iowa City, you're well aware that this intersection marks the beginning of the most obnoxious, unorganized cluster of street intersections this side of China. Iowa City is old; it was the original state capitol of Iowa back in the formation of the state in 1846. The streets are narrow, there are no turn lanes, and the houses are all up in everyone's business as they are nearly flush with the curbs. Iowa City is also a college town (thank you, Captain Obvious), so there are literally cars everywhere. What, you don't think a Toyota Corolla can parallel park in a space about 5 feet wide? Allow the law of physics to be disproved as only they can in a college town. Where there aren't cars, there are people. Everywhere (yes, I know I am overusing italics in this post; there are just too many things to emphasize). People jumping off buses, people running to catch buses, people darting across traffic, people texting on their iPhones while looking down as they cross Clinton Street, people jaywalking (I guess they have since stopped ticketing people for this), and of course my personal favorite, people walking en masse across the street despite having a "no walk" sign. Safety in numbers, right?
I finally give up on finding a free parking spot (I have mad parallel parking skills, but not quite like that Corolla driver) and jump from parking garage to parking garage, all of which are full. I end up parking at the edge of campus, and become one of the thousands of people walking around campus in the 28 degree weather. I honestly forgot what it's like to walk everywhere; I make a concerted effort to walk places around my house in Des Moines, but it's not nearly to the extent of the walking you do in college. So as I'm leaping over puddles and trying to avoid the Chicago sorostitutes talking about, like, OMG what happened last night?! on their iPhone 5Gs (didn't even know those existed yet, did you?!), my feet are freezing because I am wearing Toms, which are made of canvas. Simply brilliant, Kelli.
My first stop is Which Wich, a sandwich shop descended from heaven and one of the things I miss most about this city. I walk in and immediately see boob. Yes, boob. Some lady is breastfeeding her infant at the front table of Which Wich. She's wearing a Bohemian tie-dye skirt and a "Free Tibet" shirt (which I couldn't see at first, given that she had her shirt pulled up to her neck), and I have the urge to tell her that Tibet doesn't want to be free. But instead I simply shake my head at the open liberalness of Iowa City and go to order my sandwich. After Which Wich I make my way over to the Java House for a Nutty Irish Coffee (non-alcoholic, counter to logical belief by the name) and settle into one of the warm chairs to study for the test I have in a few hours. All is well until a twitchy man comes up to me, addresses me as 'little lady,' and asks if I will move chairs to he can set up a UITV camera to tape the weekly Java Blends show. I inwardly groan as I realize that it is Friday, and there are some who actually believe people watch the University television station, in particular a show with hairy, hemp-wearing dudes playing harmonica in a coffee house.
Let me just say, I have nothing against any of this. Wear your hemp, sport your beard proudly, hell, play the harmonica as it is a dying instrument that has a major place in American history. But why - WHY - must you take up half of the Java House, kick me out of my seat because you need the space to set up a camera, do a sound check for 30 minutes, and then glare at me when I put my headphones in? For goodness' sake - this isn't cultural, it's annoying.
I love Iowa City, I really do. I had a wonderful college experience and this town has a lot of opportunities and unique traits that encourage conversation, learning, and understanding among different types of people. If anything, we need more of that in today's world (see the recent situation in Wisconsin, which is really a display of immature stubbornness and a refusal to even seek compromise). But I'll be damned with the pretentiousness of the place. I am even guilty of it, as evidence by my previous sarcastically stereotyped description of the female students from the Chicago area.
But another thing about college towns is that you are continually challenged in your beliefs and made to re-evaluate your previously held conceptions. Case in point: Mr. Harmonica has since left the stage and a bluegrass band has taken over, leading with "Wagon Wheel," one of my favorite bluegrass songs. My Toms-clad feet are suddenly bouncing, and I'm shaking my head with the appreciation of the culture I've stumbled across in this college town coffee house. I'm also faced with the realization that I made a premature judgment, and now feel a little bit hypocritical. Fortunately, college towns are a mecca of self-improvement (although in some cases, self-destruction, but luckily not always), so I know it is a short-lived shame that will dissipate in favor of cultural appreciation and acceptance.
Parking, people, pretention, and all... I miss this place.
Friday, January 28, 2011
top to bottom.
One of my favorite movies of all time is High Fidelity, which is based off a Nick Hornby novel and stars John Cusack - that is one of my favorite authors and favorite actors, so that explains my adoration of the movie. In the film, the main character is basically going through the Top 5 break-ups of his life. It doesn't sound very cheerful, but it is a hilarious movie, and afterwards you will find yourself obsessively making Top 5 lists for everything.
Take this knowledge and combine it with the latest adventure I've undertaken with my friend Mallory. The other day at work, one of the lawyers was playing Dave Matthews so loud I thought my ears were bleeding. Ironically, Mallory emailed me (even though we are two cubicles from each other) how annoyed she was because she also hates Dave Matthews. This started a conversation back and forth about music, and we came to discover that we have more even more similarities. It is truly becoming creepy.
So, Mallory and I started discussing music. As I've mentioned before, I am a rather "old soul" when it comes to music. Mallory is a total hipster in the best way. She listens to music before it becomes part of a movie's soundtrack because some LA jackass "discovered" the band in some concert circuit. Without making a solid plan of it, we both started compiling lists of our all-time favorite songs. She is BA and finished her's that night and came up with 85 songs, which can be read here: http://malloryalyse.blogspot.com/ I am not that music savvy, so I'm going to take the High Fidelity route and list my Top 5 songs, with some alternates because that's how I roll (and there are so many good ones to throw out there, but I don't want to diverge from the Top 5 idea). So, here we go:
1. "Better Man" by Pearl Jam
2. "Hey Girl" by O.A.R.
3. "The Joker" by Steve Miller Band
4. "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison
5. "Collie Man" by Slightly Stoopid
Alternates:
"Baba O'Riley" by The Who
"What Is and What Should Never Be" by Led Zeppelin
"Farmhouse" by Phish
"Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World
"Champagne Supernova" by Oasis
"The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows" by Brand New
"The Sounds of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel
"Let It Be" by The Beatles
There is something about #1 that gets me every single time I hear it. Maybe it's because I saw Pearl Jam in concert a few years ago (ok, almost 5 years ago... because I am getting really old) and the song holds some really great memories for me of a really great person. It also used to be my ringtone. It is a little bitter and sad, but I've always chosen to interpret it incorrectly and pretend it's positive. No harm, no foul.
The next one is my all-time favorite O.A.R. song, and I have a lot of 'em. I've also seen O.A.R. in concert four times, each show being better than the last and culminating with an amazing show at Red Rocks Ampitheater in Denver. I love this song for so many reasons, one of which is because when I saw them in Kansas City, a guy proposed to his girlfriend on stage in the middle of this song (it was planned beforehand with the band, which is even cooler). Oh, this song also used to be my ringtone.
Ahh, Steve Miller. I knew a guy in high school named Steve Miller. Clever parents. Anyway, this song just kills me in a good way. "I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover, and I'm a sinner." It might as well be my biography, which is why I think I love it so much. Plus, the "wah waaahh" part makes me giggle. Go listen to it and you'll see what I mean. And guess what? This also used to be my ringtone.
#4 is self-explanatory. My uncle has danced with me to this song at every family wedding I've ever been to, so it also has a traditional-aspect to it. In a world full of blue-eyed beauties, it's nice for the "mud pie" -eyed girls to get some lovin', plus Van Morrison is badass. No, this was never my ringtone, but it is the ringtone you hear when I call my mother. I set that one up for her, and I'm sure she's never been more grateful.
And lastly, the wild card. No, this song doesn't fit in with the rest of them. But at just over two minutes long, somehow this song can completely elevate my mood no matter what. It is the single most-played song on my iTunes, beating out the next most frequent by almost one hundred plays. It's a really chill song and completely unlike any other Slightly Stoopid song, but it's phenomenal. It also has one of my favorite lyrics of all time: "Some man lives his life on profits alone/ that very same man he lives his life all alone."
So there you have it, my Top 5 songs and a handful of alternates. It is a really interesting aspect to see what songs have withstood the test of time, because I go through so many phases of musical preferences and will listen to nearly anything. Check out Mallory's eccentric list, but be sure to round out your musical adventure with some older stuff off mine.
Where words fail, music speaks.
Take this knowledge and combine it with the latest adventure I've undertaken with my friend Mallory. The other day at work, one of the lawyers was playing Dave Matthews so loud I thought my ears were bleeding. Ironically, Mallory emailed me (even though we are two cubicles from each other) how annoyed she was because she also hates Dave Matthews. This started a conversation back and forth about music, and we came to discover that we have more even more similarities. It is truly becoming creepy.
So, Mallory and I started discussing music. As I've mentioned before, I am a rather "old soul" when it comes to music. Mallory is a total hipster in the best way. She listens to music before it becomes part of a movie's soundtrack because some LA jackass "discovered" the band in some concert circuit. Without making a solid plan of it, we both started compiling lists of our all-time favorite songs. She is BA and finished her's that night and came up with 85 songs, which can be read here: http://malloryalyse.blogspot.com/ I am not that music savvy, so I'm going to take the High Fidelity route and list my Top 5 songs, with some alternates because that's how I roll (and there are so many good ones to throw out there, but I don't want to diverge from the Top 5 idea). So, here we go:
1. "Better Man" by Pearl Jam
2. "Hey Girl" by O.A.R.
3. "The Joker" by Steve Miller Band
4. "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison
5. "Collie Man" by Slightly Stoopid
Alternates:
"Baba O'Riley" by The Who
"What Is and What Should Never Be" by Led Zeppelin
"Farmhouse" by Phish
"Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World
"Champagne Supernova" by Oasis
"The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows" by Brand New
"The Sounds of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel
"Let It Be" by The Beatles
There is something about #1 that gets me every single time I hear it. Maybe it's because I saw Pearl Jam in concert a few years ago (ok, almost 5 years ago... because I am getting really old) and the song holds some really great memories for me of a really great person. It also used to be my ringtone. It is a little bitter and sad, but I've always chosen to interpret it incorrectly and pretend it's positive. No harm, no foul.
The next one is my all-time favorite O.A.R. song, and I have a lot of 'em. I've also seen O.A.R. in concert four times, each show being better than the last and culminating with an amazing show at Red Rocks Ampitheater in Denver. I love this song for so many reasons, one of which is because when I saw them in Kansas City, a guy proposed to his girlfriend on stage in the middle of this song (it was planned beforehand with the band, which is even cooler). Oh, this song also used to be my ringtone.
Ahh, Steve Miller. I knew a guy in high school named Steve Miller. Clever parents. Anyway, this song just kills me in a good way. "I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover, and I'm a sinner." It might as well be my biography, which is why I think I love it so much. Plus, the "wah waaahh" part makes me giggle. Go listen to it and you'll see what I mean. And guess what? This also used to be my ringtone.
#4 is self-explanatory. My uncle has danced with me to this song at every family wedding I've ever been to, so it also has a traditional-aspect to it. In a world full of blue-eyed beauties, it's nice for the "mud pie" -eyed girls to get some lovin', plus Van Morrison is badass. No, this was never my ringtone, but it is the ringtone you hear when I call my mother. I set that one up for her, and I'm sure she's never been more grateful.
And lastly, the wild card. No, this song doesn't fit in with the rest of them. But at just over two minutes long, somehow this song can completely elevate my mood no matter what. It is the single most-played song on my iTunes, beating out the next most frequent by almost one hundred plays. It's a really chill song and completely unlike any other Slightly Stoopid song, but it's phenomenal. It also has one of my favorite lyrics of all time: "Some man lives his life on profits alone/ that very same man he lives his life all alone."
So there you have it, my Top 5 songs and a handful of alternates. It is a really interesting aspect to see what songs have withstood the test of time, because I go through so many phases of musical preferences and will listen to nearly anything. Check out Mallory's eccentric list, but be sure to round out your musical adventure with some older stuff off mine.
Where words fail, music speaks.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
elitist teenage dreaming.
One of my jobs is working as a substitute in an area school district, which happens to be the same one in which I student taught. I like this because I know the building, administrators, and other teachers really well. I don’t like this because the more I feel removed from the teaching profession, and the less I want to be a teacher, the more I feel like a failure that everyone in the building is looking at in horror. You see, teachers are interesting creatures. We deal with a lot of bullshit, whether from parents, the community, or the students. It comes with the deal, and most teachers will say it’s worth the trade-off because there are a lot of wonderful things about being a teacher. There were days when I would leave school laughing because it seemed absurd that my job was that fun – seriously, how many people can say that?
But teachers are also elitist in a very peculiar way. Once you’ve been inducted into the profession, if you choose to leave you are basically ostracized (or at least feel that way based on the reactions you get from everyone). I still haven’t told some of my teacher friends that I am considering going to law school over signing a teaching contract in the fall. This is because when I do, I usually get a look of utter betrayal, as though my choice not to teach directly influences my validity as a human being. You think I’m kidding. I understand that teaching is an important profession and that it is one of the noblest jobs on Earth. For that very reason, you don’t want people who aren’t utterly passionate about it in the classroom – trust me. But what about other jobs that are just as important? They do exist. Like… maybe an attorney who represents juveniles who actually likes juveniles and isn’t afraid of teenagers? But let’s move on before I get much more agitated.
Subbing is easily the best worst job possible. It’s the best job because half the time you get to sit there and do whatever you want, be it reading, writing, or doodling. It’s the worst job for the exact same reasons: sometimes you sit there and do absolutely nothing. Oh, and it eliminates every positive attached to teaching – the relationships with students, the ability to see growth, and the basic concept of knowing what the hell is going on when you walk in a classroom. With that in mind, when I substitute I usually do one of three things. I either 1) have some type of work to do, like editing my personal statements or reading for a class I’m taking; 2) doodle, update my calendar, or daydream until I realize I’m being stared at by students; or 3) do actual teaching, which only happens if I’m subbing for the lady I student taught with last year. Occasionally I have my computer with me, so I can sit at the front of the room and type random thoughts and look like I’m doing something teacher-ly. Sometimes these thoughts become a blog and…. Well, hello there!
Yes, as I write this I am sitting in the art room at a middle school in the Des Moines area. It doesn’t matter in the least, but the kiddos are working on drawing a narrative of their lives (so much to say about all 13 years of it!). I’ve been asked questions like: What represents me? (Don’t know, kid, I’ve never met you.) How do you draw an airplane? (Do I look like I have any idea how to draw a square, let alone an airplane?) What if soccer is the ONLY thing that defines me? (Um…..) There’s also the fun component that this teacher turns on the radio when the students sketch, and it’s predictably set to 107.5 (the Top 20 station in Des Moines). This is fine, until awkward commercials for skanky bars or “intimate toy” party companies fill the silent space of the classroom. I’m constantly amused by how much goes over the heads of middle school students. It makes sense, of course, but our world is so inappropriate sometimes it’s nice to see some facet of innocence. Maybe that’s why people are so scared of adolescents. They hear the latest Rihanna song, understand the lyrics, and logically assume that adolescents do, too, which would scare me as well. Let me debunk that now: while students may get the general idea of “Rude Boy,” I promise you they aren’t listening close enough to the words to realize exactly what part of the body she is singing about. Thank the stars for that.
Subbing also has the side effect of making me re-live my education on a near daily basis. This isn’t as terrifying or horrific as it may sound. I certainly didn’t like high school, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve had to experience. Rather, on days like today I am reminded of the art classes I took in high school, which leads me to remember the Notebook my friend Anna and I wrote, drew, and stuck crap in, and then traded every Wednesday (we didn’t attend the same high school). My pages were always full of words, line-to-line, paragraph after paragraph. Her pages were always full of sketches and magazine clippings she ripped out of magazines I’d never heard of. Not much as changed, and I still try to make things I give her a little artistic, much like I did the Notebook. So, it logically concludes that I would work on the Notebook in my art class; hence the trip down memory lane and bout of nostalgia. Are you with me now?
It’s also easy to see the different types of students that always have and always will be present in every class. You have the girl who is years ahead of her peers in the way she wears her hair and clothing, and subsequently presents herself. She is always the popular girl who the males gutsy enough to talk to her revolve around. You have your immature boys, right alongside the boys who hit their growth spurt years ago and as a result seem to have this self-assured confidence. Then you have students who look like they are living in their heads, and you can bet they are living in a post-high school world where they don’t have to deal with the people they are actually around. The nerds, the band kids, the artsy ones, the angsty ones, the ones who like talking to the teacher… I’ll stop because I’m sure we’ve all seen The Breakfast Club and know the stereotypes and labels. I often wonder how my teachers perceived me in high school.
I rarely talked to anyone (all my good friends went to other schools), I took every English class possible but managed to fail AP English (crappy teacher, honestly), I wore any school other than Urbandale’s apparel, and I didn’t fit into any one group. I hung out with druggies, brains, band kids, and the freaks and geeks when I had to hang out with people at all. I was a dreamer. I guess it isn’t a surprise to me that even as a substitute, I still do that. I still doodle in my agenda, stare off into space daydreaming about anywhere but where I am, write letters to my friends, and imagine what life will be like when I’m actually content.
Ok, and occasionally I teach, too. That, at least, is a vague semblance of redemption from the teachers everywhere who would rather I spout blasphemy against the union than leave the profession. Until then, I have to go turn off the radio because I cannot listen to “Teenage Dream” one more time, even if the students don’t have any idea what Katy Perry is referencing.
But teachers are also elitist in a very peculiar way. Once you’ve been inducted into the profession, if you choose to leave you are basically ostracized (or at least feel that way based on the reactions you get from everyone). I still haven’t told some of my teacher friends that I am considering going to law school over signing a teaching contract in the fall. This is because when I do, I usually get a look of utter betrayal, as though my choice not to teach directly influences my validity as a human being. You think I’m kidding. I understand that teaching is an important profession and that it is one of the noblest jobs on Earth. For that very reason, you don’t want people who aren’t utterly passionate about it in the classroom – trust me. But what about other jobs that are just as important? They do exist. Like… maybe an attorney who represents juveniles who actually likes juveniles and isn’t afraid of teenagers? But let’s move on before I get much more agitated.
Subbing is easily the best worst job possible. It’s the best job because half the time you get to sit there and do whatever you want, be it reading, writing, or doodling. It’s the worst job for the exact same reasons: sometimes you sit there and do absolutely nothing. Oh, and it eliminates every positive attached to teaching – the relationships with students, the ability to see growth, and the basic concept of knowing what the hell is going on when you walk in a classroom. With that in mind, when I substitute I usually do one of three things. I either 1) have some type of work to do, like editing my personal statements or reading for a class I’m taking; 2) doodle, update my calendar, or daydream until I realize I’m being stared at by students; or 3) do actual teaching, which only happens if I’m subbing for the lady I student taught with last year. Occasionally I have my computer with me, so I can sit at the front of the room and type random thoughts and look like I’m doing something teacher-ly. Sometimes these thoughts become a blog and…. Well, hello there!
Yes, as I write this I am sitting in the art room at a middle school in the Des Moines area. It doesn’t matter in the least, but the kiddos are working on drawing a narrative of their lives (so much to say about all 13 years of it!). I’ve been asked questions like: What represents me? (Don’t know, kid, I’ve never met you.) How do you draw an airplane? (Do I look like I have any idea how to draw a square, let alone an airplane?) What if soccer is the ONLY thing that defines me? (Um…..) There’s also the fun component that this teacher turns on the radio when the students sketch, and it’s predictably set to 107.5 (the Top 20 station in Des Moines). This is fine, until awkward commercials for skanky bars or “intimate toy” party companies fill the silent space of the classroom. I’m constantly amused by how much goes over the heads of middle school students. It makes sense, of course, but our world is so inappropriate sometimes it’s nice to see some facet of innocence. Maybe that’s why people are so scared of adolescents. They hear the latest Rihanna song, understand the lyrics, and logically assume that adolescents do, too, which would scare me as well. Let me debunk that now: while students may get the general idea of “Rude Boy,” I promise you they aren’t listening close enough to the words to realize exactly what part of the body she is singing about. Thank the stars for that.
Subbing also has the side effect of making me re-live my education on a near daily basis. This isn’t as terrifying or horrific as it may sound. I certainly didn’t like high school, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve had to experience. Rather, on days like today I am reminded of the art classes I took in high school, which leads me to remember the Notebook my friend Anna and I wrote, drew, and stuck crap in, and then traded every Wednesday (we didn’t attend the same high school). My pages were always full of words, line-to-line, paragraph after paragraph. Her pages were always full of sketches and magazine clippings she ripped out of magazines I’d never heard of. Not much as changed, and I still try to make things I give her a little artistic, much like I did the Notebook. So, it logically concludes that I would work on the Notebook in my art class; hence the trip down memory lane and bout of nostalgia. Are you with me now?
It’s also easy to see the different types of students that always have and always will be present in every class. You have the girl who is years ahead of her peers in the way she wears her hair and clothing, and subsequently presents herself. She is always the popular girl who the males gutsy enough to talk to her revolve around. You have your immature boys, right alongside the boys who hit their growth spurt years ago and as a result seem to have this self-assured confidence. Then you have students who look like they are living in their heads, and you can bet they are living in a post-high school world where they don’t have to deal with the people they are actually around. The nerds, the band kids, the artsy ones, the angsty ones, the ones who like talking to the teacher… I’ll stop because I’m sure we’ve all seen The Breakfast Club and know the stereotypes and labels. I often wonder how my teachers perceived me in high school.
I rarely talked to anyone (all my good friends went to other schools), I took every English class possible but managed to fail AP English (crappy teacher, honestly), I wore any school other than Urbandale’s apparel, and I didn’t fit into any one group. I hung out with druggies, brains, band kids, and the freaks and geeks when I had to hang out with people at all. I was a dreamer. I guess it isn’t a surprise to me that even as a substitute, I still do that. I still doodle in my agenda, stare off into space daydreaming about anywhere but where I am, write letters to my friends, and imagine what life will be like when I’m actually content.
Ok, and occasionally I teach, too. That, at least, is a vague semblance of redemption from the teachers everywhere who would rather I spout blasphemy against the union than leave the profession. Until then, I have to go turn off the radio because I cannot listen to “Teenage Dream” one more time, even if the students don’t have any idea what Katy Perry is referencing.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
hippie love.
I went on an iTunes spending spree tonight. I love a few things about iTunes: first, you can pick and choose which songs you want to buy off an album, instead of wasting money on those lame filler songs that all too often show up. Second, if you already have a song purchased off an album, iTunes has a "complete my album" option that discounts the price. Lastly, I love not having actual CDs to mess with. When it comes to books, I love the feel of paper and the weight of the book in my hands. When it comes to music, I'm a firm believer that MP3s are the best thing to happen to mankind. But I digress...
So, my spending spree. I purchased music from the following artists: The Steve Miller Band, Tommy James and the Shondells, Neil Diamond, Scott McKenzie, and Phish. With the exception of the last artist, you probably noticed a pattern. Dig through your parents' old record collection and they probably own the vinyl of those cats. It's not a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I adore '60s music. I mean, I straight up love listening to it, along with the stories my parents tell me about growing up in the '60s. When I was a little girl, the only thing I ever wanted to listen to on the radio was 93.3 (the oldies station in Des Moines) and I remember hiding records when my dad was selling them in a garage sale; I managed to save Aretha Franklin, Lesley Gore, and the Supremes. One of the major reasons why I splurged on satellite radio in my car is the channel "60s on 6" and my friends will attest to the fact that I can sing along to nearly all of the songs they play. I could go on, but I think you get the point.
I'm not one of those people who will admonish the state of music today compared to "back then." I can't do that in good faith, because I admit that I actually like Ke$ha (I really don't mind if you judge me). I just recognize that you can't compare Ke$ha to, say, the Doors. I hope you laughed at the thought, because that is exactly my point. Why do people get so pretentious when it comes to music? I listen to both kinds of music at different times depending on my mood. If I'm bummed out at work, you better believe I'm rocking to Ke$ha. If I'm on a road-trip, there is nothing better than the Eagles or Tom Petty. God bless the iPod, fo'real.
But back to my love of '60s music. Another reason why I love it all so much is because I really, really wish I had been alive during that era so I could have been a hippie. I absolutely would have been a hippie. In some ways, I think I am one now. Don't get me wrong; I do love technology and want to have a real job someday, but I also really dig the happy-go-lucky, be natural and love the earth, be good to each other and be idealistic mindset. I would have been that girl in San Francisco with flowers in her hair (and sans mustache, Scott McKenzie is not bad looking either). Plus, things just weren't as serious in the '60s. I'm not saying that things like Vietnam and the assassinations of prolific national leaders were knee-slappin' good times, but consider something like the environment. People care about the environment today because we have really, really screwed that shit up. In the '60s, I wager that most people cared because they just loved the earth. I wish people would care about the earth just because its beautiful and the right thing to do, not because we're all terrified what will happen if we can't drive our SUV to the grocery store 3 blocks away to buy overly-packaged food chalk full of preservatives fresh from South America. But, that's another story for another day. No, the 60s were tumultuous, but they were still considerably more chill than life today.
Maybe tomorrow I will dig around in my boxes of childhood mementos for the Halloween costume I insisted on wearing three years in a row: a hippie wearing an bohemian shirt, bell bottoms, Lennon sunglasses, and a ribbon around my forehead. Or, maybe I will just update my iPod's "Golden Oldies" playlist with all my recent purchases on iTunes, and happily sing to myself in my cubicle at work. It will probably be the latter, so I hope my neighboring co-worker is prepared to hear my rendition of Steve Miller's Jungle Town. We can only hope.
So, my spending spree. I purchased music from the following artists: The Steve Miller Band, Tommy James and the Shondells, Neil Diamond, Scott McKenzie, and Phish. With the exception of the last artist, you probably noticed a pattern. Dig through your parents' old record collection and they probably own the vinyl of those cats. It's not a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I adore '60s music. I mean, I straight up love listening to it, along with the stories my parents tell me about growing up in the '60s. When I was a little girl, the only thing I ever wanted to listen to on the radio was 93.3 (the oldies station in Des Moines) and I remember hiding records when my dad was selling them in a garage sale; I managed to save Aretha Franklin, Lesley Gore, and the Supremes. One of the major reasons why I splurged on satellite radio in my car is the channel "60s on 6" and my friends will attest to the fact that I can sing along to nearly all of the songs they play. I could go on, but I think you get the point.
I'm not one of those people who will admonish the state of music today compared to "back then." I can't do that in good faith, because I admit that I actually like Ke$ha (I really don't mind if you judge me). I just recognize that you can't compare Ke$ha to, say, the Doors. I hope you laughed at the thought, because that is exactly my point. Why do people get so pretentious when it comes to music? I listen to both kinds of music at different times depending on my mood. If I'm bummed out at work, you better believe I'm rocking to Ke$ha. If I'm on a road-trip, there is nothing better than the Eagles or Tom Petty. God bless the iPod, fo'real.
But back to my love of '60s music. Another reason why I love it all so much is because I really, really wish I had been alive during that era so I could have been a hippie. I absolutely would have been a hippie. In some ways, I think I am one now. Don't get me wrong; I do love technology and want to have a real job someday, but I also really dig the happy-go-lucky, be natural and love the earth, be good to each other and be idealistic mindset. I would have been that girl in San Francisco with flowers in her hair (and sans mustache, Scott McKenzie is not bad looking either). Plus, things just weren't as serious in the '60s. I'm not saying that things like Vietnam and the assassinations of prolific national leaders were knee-slappin' good times, but consider something like the environment. People care about the environment today because we have really, really screwed that shit up. In the '60s, I wager that most people cared because they just loved the earth. I wish people would care about the earth just because its beautiful and the right thing to do, not because we're all terrified what will happen if we can't drive our SUV to the grocery store 3 blocks away to buy overly-packaged food chalk full of preservatives fresh from South America. But, that's another story for another day. No, the 60s were tumultuous, but they were still considerably more chill than life today.
Maybe tomorrow I will dig around in my boxes of childhood mementos for the Halloween costume I insisted on wearing three years in a row: a hippie wearing an bohemian shirt, bell bottoms, Lennon sunglasses, and a ribbon around my forehead. Or, maybe I will just update my iPod's "Golden Oldies" playlist with all my recent purchases on iTunes, and happily sing to myself in my cubicle at work. It will probably be the latter, so I hope my neighboring co-worker is prepared to hear my rendition of Steve Miller's Jungle Town. We can only hope.
paths of greatness.
I've decided that I want to use this blog as a productive platform for once. I am working on law school applications, and one thing that I am determined to do is to make my applications specific to the schools so they stand out. Plus, this forces me to really look at the schools carefully so I know I am applying for good reasons. I have about eight schools total on my list, but I am primarily looking at three, all of which are in the Chicago area. The more I research each of the three, the more they all look incredible to me and my goals for going back to school. Let me tell you about each of them; this will help me keep them clear, articulate why they are each great, and give some insight as to my true desire to go to law school.
Chicago- Kent (part of Illinois Institute of Technology)
This school is located in the heart of the Loop and has immensely appealing programs in Child and Family Law as well as its legal writing program. Child and Family Law (or C/F as I'll refer to it from here on) is the field of law specifically focused on the needs of juveniles and family matters, ranging from domestic abuse to child custody to juvenile advocacy. While I could never see myself wanting to work with divorce clients, the rest of the field is appealing to me because it works with children and provides opportunity to work in education law. Chicago-Kent has a dual degree program where you can receive a J.D./LL.M in family law (the LL.M is sort of like a certificate/masters program in a specific area of law). This means your clinicals and field experiences are all with organizations and groups that focus on family law. So, by attending Chicago-Kent and pursuing this program, I would be working with the demographic of clients that I feel I can best help.
The other draw to Chicago-Kent is its legal writing program. It is one of the best in the nation and competes with the likes of Harvard. Most law schools require first-year students to enroll in a legal writing course. Chi-Kent follows this pattern, but also requires students to take legal writing in their second and third years. So, students walk away with the skills to be concise and effective in legal writing, which sets the stage for them to do judicial clerkships which is something I would love to do. Clerkships mean you work with a judge and write opinions on cases, so you have a very tangible effect on some of the most important decisions coming out of our judicial system. Tie this in with education law, and you've got a recipe for some actual change in the way our country views education. Can I get an AMEN?
DePaul University College of Law
I love almost everything I've learned about DePaul. It has an extensive alumni network and a definite presence in the Chicago legal field. This bodes well in this market because it means I have better job prospects after graduation, particularly in a big city like Chicago. But one of the biggest perks about DePaul is their first-year specialization programs. DePaul is the only school I've seen that has designated fiirst-year seminars in specific areas of law, one of which is Juvenile/Family law (same thing as Child law, just a different set of semantics). So, as a first year student you begin delving into an area of interest right away. They pair this with your required first-year legal writing course (see above), so your training in legal writing directly corresponds to juvenile and family law. Sounds cool, right? Now add in that they have a Special Education Advocacy clinical, and you're beginning to see the bridge between law and education, which is my end goal. This also really interests me because I enjoyed working with special education while teaching, and I think it is an area in need of reform. Too often, I think we just throw money at special education. I feel that this advocacy clinical targets the need for students to receive actual help, not just monetarily-provided support that doesn't help their specific needs.
Loyola-Chicago College of Law
Originally, Loyola was the last on my list of Chicago schools. When I started researching for my personal statement for this school, however, I learned about some amazing opportunities. First, they have something called the ChildLaw and Education Institute, which is a specifically designed part of the law school that works collaboratively with teachers and adminstrators about issues in the field of education. The interdisciplinary approach supports the use of specific courses, forums, and publications that are dedicated solely to looking at issues in education (like No Child Left Behind and other things that are at the forefront of public discourse on education). I like the collaborative approach because who knows better about the issues than teachers?
The other appealing thing about Loyola is their dual-degree program awarding you an J.D./M.A. in Comparative Law and Education. This degree means I would have a masters in education, specifically emphasizing legal issues facing schools (special education, denial of education for students who have been in the juvenile justice system, homelessness, and equitable funding to name a few). The cool thing comes into play with the J.D. This dual-degree program focuses on bridging the gap between education systems around the world. There are programs in Chile, Africa, Thailand, and India that provide support for achieving education for all children in those areas. The idea is that holders of that degree would be equipped to work with education systems around the world for the betterment of all students everywhere. Who doesn't love that?!
***
The more I research, the more I feel this is really the path I am supposed to take. There are plenty of things going against me at this point (damn you, LSAT), but I know that everything happens for a reason. It is terrifying and exciting to think about all the possible routes this type of education could take me. Now, I really need to focus on my applications and get it done.
This probably means less time listening to Coldplay... or at least finding a better balance. What is life without fun, anyway? :)
Chicago- Kent (part of Illinois Institute of Technology)
This school is located in the heart of the Loop and has immensely appealing programs in Child and Family Law as well as its legal writing program. Child and Family Law (or C/F as I'll refer to it from here on) is the field of law specifically focused on the needs of juveniles and family matters, ranging from domestic abuse to child custody to juvenile advocacy. While I could never see myself wanting to work with divorce clients, the rest of the field is appealing to me because it works with children and provides opportunity to work in education law. Chicago-Kent has a dual degree program where you can receive a J.D./LL.M in family law (the LL.M is sort of like a certificate/masters program in a specific area of law). This means your clinicals and field experiences are all with organizations and groups that focus on family law. So, by attending Chicago-Kent and pursuing this program, I would be working with the demographic of clients that I feel I can best help.
The other draw to Chicago-Kent is its legal writing program. It is one of the best in the nation and competes with the likes of Harvard. Most law schools require first-year students to enroll in a legal writing course. Chi-Kent follows this pattern, but also requires students to take legal writing in their second and third years. So, students walk away with the skills to be concise and effective in legal writing, which sets the stage for them to do judicial clerkships which is something I would love to do. Clerkships mean you work with a judge and write opinions on cases, so you have a very tangible effect on some of the most important decisions coming out of our judicial system. Tie this in with education law, and you've got a recipe for some actual change in the way our country views education. Can I get an AMEN?
DePaul University College of Law
I love almost everything I've learned about DePaul. It has an extensive alumni network and a definite presence in the Chicago legal field. This bodes well in this market because it means I have better job prospects after graduation, particularly in a big city like Chicago. But one of the biggest perks about DePaul is their first-year specialization programs. DePaul is the only school I've seen that has designated fiirst-year seminars in specific areas of law, one of which is Juvenile/Family law (same thing as Child law, just a different set of semantics). So, as a first year student you begin delving into an area of interest right away. They pair this with your required first-year legal writing course (see above), so your training in legal writing directly corresponds to juvenile and family law. Sounds cool, right? Now add in that they have a Special Education Advocacy clinical, and you're beginning to see the bridge between law and education, which is my end goal. This also really interests me because I enjoyed working with special education while teaching, and I think it is an area in need of reform. Too often, I think we just throw money at special education. I feel that this advocacy clinical targets the need for students to receive actual help, not just monetarily-provided support that doesn't help their specific needs.
Loyola-Chicago College of Law
Originally, Loyola was the last on my list of Chicago schools. When I started researching for my personal statement for this school, however, I learned about some amazing opportunities. First, they have something called the ChildLaw and Education Institute, which is a specifically designed part of the law school that works collaboratively with teachers and adminstrators about issues in the field of education. The interdisciplinary approach supports the use of specific courses, forums, and publications that are dedicated solely to looking at issues in education (like No Child Left Behind and other things that are at the forefront of public discourse on education). I like the collaborative approach because who knows better about the issues than teachers?
The other appealing thing about Loyola is their dual-degree program awarding you an J.D./M.A. in Comparative Law and Education. This degree means I would have a masters in education, specifically emphasizing legal issues facing schools (special education, denial of education for students who have been in the juvenile justice system, homelessness, and equitable funding to name a few). The cool thing comes into play with the J.D. This dual-degree program focuses on bridging the gap between education systems around the world. There are programs in Chile, Africa, Thailand, and India that provide support for achieving education for all children in those areas. The idea is that holders of that degree would be equipped to work with education systems around the world for the betterment of all students everywhere. Who doesn't love that?!
***
The more I research, the more I feel this is really the path I am supposed to take. There are plenty of things going against me at this point (damn you, LSAT), but I know that everything happens for a reason. It is terrifying and exciting to think about all the possible routes this type of education could take me. Now, I really need to focus on my applications and get it done.
This probably means less time listening to Coldplay... or at least finding a better balance. What is life without fun, anyway? :)
Monday, January 03, 2011
Twenty eleven.
Here I am in 2011, and it is 1:27 in the morning. My insomnia clearly didn't catch the memo that I resolved to rid myself of it in the new year. Alas, this is when I tend to blog; during a bout of insomnia or when I actually have something to say. In a journal-like fashion, I've decided just to update on what's been going on in my fascinating life.
First off, let me say that I am really happy we are in a new decade, and as such we've changed how we speak the year. It's not "two thousand eleven." After all, you didn't say "nineteen hundred and eleven" unless you were part of the pretentious bourgeois. The new decade means we just say "twenty eleven." It seems much more efficient and classy, in my opinion.
My New Year's Eve was pretty darn successful, if I do say so myself. I made some phenomenal buffalo chicken dip to take to a party. It wasn't nearly hot enough for me, but I really, really love hot sauce. The first party we went to was at my friend's new house. He bought acreage in Van Meter and it is absolutely gorgeous when you get that far into the country. He hosted a casino-themed party, so there we played craps, poker, and blackjack. I drake NA beer the entire time because I was planning on driving us back to Des Moines for midnight. Now, most people would scoff at NA beer as being as pointless as decaf coffee. I understand that, but I actually enjoy the taste of beer. It was a really bizarre experience to be drinking something that tasted like beer, but not to feel any of the standard "buzzed" effects after 2 or 3. Maybe it's a stupid thing to take note of, but it wasn't nearly as terrible an experience as I thought it would be when I bought it (especially when the liquor store clerk asked when I was due - as in, when I would be giving birth). But the real beauty of the situation came to pass when we left at 11 o'clock and I could absolutely, 100% feel confident that I could drive.
From there we went to a house party just off Ingersoll in Des Moines. It was a beautiful old mansion that is rented out by a bunch of artsy people. As a result, the party was themed (masquerade) and there were things you'd only see at an artist party; a photo booth with an old school tri-pod camera and an actual lobster on ice were two of my favorites. I knew about a handful of people there, but everyone else turned out to be really quite nice. Turns out, a few were excited to meet me, so I suppose that helped matters. I think the most memorable story from the evening was when someone tried teaching me how to open a beer bottle with a lighter. It probably would have been successful if I had any arm strength, but instead I chipped the lighter and sliced my finger open on the bottle cap. Either way, things went pretty well.
New Year's Day I watched absurd amounts of football (well, as much as this Big 10 fan could handle) and went to Anna's family's New Years party. It was actually a lot of fun. I ate too much food and drank my volume in coffee (hey, never said I drank NA beer all night) before driving up to Fort Dodge to see my other friend, Rachel. I hadn't seen her in months and she just moved into a new house, so that provided plenty of entertainment. Allegedly, it used to be a drug house, evidenced by the bizarre drawings and quotes that are painted on the basement ceiling, as well as the paraphenilia they found in the rafters when they cleaned. But the best part was easily the conversation we had until 3am. Rachel always makes me laugh, but she also makes me think. I also believe that if you can confess something you're weary about to Rachel, you can handle anyone. This means I'm going to have an awkward conversation with my boss tomorrow that I should've had weeks ago, but just didn't have the nerve.
In a related topic, although it doesn't seem like it, I tackled that intimidating process known as "filing the FAFSA" today. I was actually quite surprised by how easy it was. The Free Application For Student Aid would probably be more complicated if I actually had any money/assets/investments, but as it turned out, they consider me an "independent student," I made an embarrassingly small amount of money last year, and I didn't have to delve into my parents' financial information. This is a blessing and a curse, I suppose, because I maxed out at the most money you can get for grad school. Blessing because that means I have more flexibility in choosing a school, a curse because that means that much more money to pay back down the line... at a higher interest rate than undergrads have to pay. Oh well. My dad can no longer tell me I'm being overdramatic when I tell him how poor I am. The government says I'm the most destitute of applicants.
I'm looking at a year full of infinite possibilities, which I know is cliche. In my immediate future, I'm just taking it day by day, which is a very hard thing for me to do because I am a planner by nature. The quote from Almost Famous seems applicable right now: "If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt." Probably not the most responsible words to live by, but for the time being I think that's ok.
Now, if only I could get a handle on my insomnia life would really be grand.
First off, let me say that I am really happy we are in a new decade, and as such we've changed how we speak the year. It's not "two thousand eleven." After all, you didn't say "nineteen hundred and eleven" unless you were part of the pretentious bourgeois. The new decade means we just say "twenty eleven." It seems much more efficient and classy, in my opinion.
My New Year's Eve was pretty darn successful, if I do say so myself. I made some phenomenal buffalo chicken dip to take to a party. It wasn't nearly hot enough for me, but I really, really love hot sauce. The first party we went to was at my friend's new house. He bought acreage in Van Meter and it is absolutely gorgeous when you get that far into the country. He hosted a casino-themed party, so there we played craps, poker, and blackjack. I drake NA beer the entire time because I was planning on driving us back to Des Moines for midnight. Now, most people would scoff at NA beer as being as pointless as decaf coffee. I understand that, but I actually enjoy the taste of beer. It was a really bizarre experience to be drinking something that tasted like beer, but not to feel any of the standard "buzzed" effects after 2 or 3. Maybe it's a stupid thing to take note of, but it wasn't nearly as terrible an experience as I thought it would be when I bought it (especially when the liquor store clerk asked when I was due - as in, when I would be giving birth). But the real beauty of the situation came to pass when we left at 11 o'clock and I could absolutely, 100% feel confident that I could drive.
From there we went to a house party just off Ingersoll in Des Moines. It was a beautiful old mansion that is rented out by a bunch of artsy people. As a result, the party was themed (masquerade) and there were things you'd only see at an artist party; a photo booth with an old school tri-pod camera and an actual lobster on ice were two of my favorites. I knew about a handful of people there, but everyone else turned out to be really quite nice. Turns out, a few were excited to meet me, so I suppose that helped matters. I think the most memorable story from the evening was when someone tried teaching me how to open a beer bottle with a lighter. It probably would have been successful if I had any arm strength, but instead I chipped the lighter and sliced my finger open on the bottle cap. Either way, things went pretty well.
New Year's Day I watched absurd amounts of football (well, as much as this Big 10 fan could handle) and went to Anna's family's New Years party. It was actually a lot of fun. I ate too much food and drank my volume in coffee (hey, never said I drank NA beer all night) before driving up to Fort Dodge to see my other friend, Rachel. I hadn't seen her in months and she just moved into a new house, so that provided plenty of entertainment. Allegedly, it used to be a drug house, evidenced by the bizarre drawings and quotes that are painted on the basement ceiling, as well as the paraphenilia they found in the rafters when they cleaned. But the best part was easily the conversation we had until 3am. Rachel always makes me laugh, but she also makes me think. I also believe that if you can confess something you're weary about to Rachel, you can handle anyone. This means I'm going to have an awkward conversation with my boss tomorrow that I should've had weeks ago, but just didn't have the nerve.
In a related topic, although it doesn't seem like it, I tackled that intimidating process known as "filing the FAFSA" today. I was actually quite surprised by how easy it was. The Free Application For Student Aid would probably be more complicated if I actually had any money/assets/investments, but as it turned out, they consider me an "independent student," I made an embarrassingly small amount of money last year, and I didn't have to delve into my parents' financial information. This is a blessing and a curse, I suppose, because I maxed out at the most money you can get for grad school. Blessing because that means I have more flexibility in choosing a school, a curse because that means that much more money to pay back down the line... at a higher interest rate than undergrads have to pay. Oh well. My dad can no longer tell me I'm being overdramatic when I tell him how poor I am. The government says I'm the most destitute of applicants.
I'm looking at a year full of infinite possibilities, which I know is cliche. In my immediate future, I'm just taking it day by day, which is a very hard thing for me to do because I am a planner by nature. The quote from Almost Famous seems applicable right now: "If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt." Probably not the most responsible words to live by, but for the time being I think that's ok.
Now, if only I could get a handle on my insomnia life would really be grand.
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