this is your life/the end of an era
This afternoon, I was asked to enter each and every post-secondary course I've ever taken, one by one and in sequential order, onto a computer screen. A daunting task for the sentimental at heart. So much has happened, so much has changed, over these last four years, that it seems odd to reduce it all to a list of departments and course numbers. The cold descriptions don't do it justice.
The list doesn't include people like my friend Jesse (who is so oddly interrelated with every aspect of my life at LSU it's a bit creepy), or the time I skipped a midterm to see 311 in New Orleans, or even my freshman year dorm roommate who had sex with a 16 year old (who went to a Catholic all-
girls school, no less) while she thought I was sleeping. There's no mention of the three years I spent in a relationship doomed to fail, or the strength I summoned up to get over it. All the Mondays I went to class after working till dawn on the crisis hotline, or the Fridays I dragged myself to campus after 80's Night at Spanish Moon. The summer I learned to drink beer, the summer that I smoked too much pot, or the summer that I sold my soul to AmeriCorps. All the wonderful people who have come and gone, or had the good fortune to stick by my side a little while, are omitted as well. I'm not ready to leave all this behind, but I know that if I stick around too much longer, it'll all leave me soon enough.
Alright wordy people...
I did this activity in one of my classes today as a group-building activity, and led my group to massive victory. I know how obsessed some of you are with words, so I thought you'd get a kick out of it as well. No cheating!
Directions: Reduce these sentences to familiar proverbs.
1. A period of preeminence is passed through by each and every canine.
2. It is fruitless to be lachrymose because of scattered lacteal fluid.
3. Similar sire, similar scion.
4. Articles which coruscate are not fashioned from aureate metal; at least not necessarily.
5. Prodigality is produced by precipitancy.
6. Pulchritude does not penetrate the dermal plane.
7. It is not proper for mendicants to be indicative of preferences.
8. Your immature gallinaceans must not be calculated prior to their being produced.
9. A pterodactyl ungulate mammal may be addressed toward aqueous fluid, but it cannot be compelled to quaff.
10. It is fondness for notes of exchange that constitutes the tuberous structure of all satanically inspired principles.
11. Lithoidal fragments ought not to be hurled by tenants of vitreous abodes.
12. Beholden vessel never exceeds one hundred degrees Celsius.
13. A feathered creature clasped in the manual members is the equivalent, value-wise, of a brace of the bosky growth.
14. A detached fragment of the terrestrial lithosphere, whether of igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic origin, and whether acquiring its approximation of sphericity though hydraulic action or other attrition, when continuously maintained in motion about its temporary axis and with its velocity accelerated by an increase in the angle declivity, is, because of abrasive action produced by the incessant but irregular contact between its periphery and the contiguous terrain, effectively prevented from accumulating on its external surface an appreciable amount of the cryptogamous vegetation normally propagated in umbrageous situations under optimum conditions of undeviating atmospheric humidity, quiescence, and comparative sequestration from corrosive-erosive agencies.
Find the answers
here
Denim
I will never name my child Khaki.
It's the type of name that, upon first encounter, seems oddly likeable, mysterious, unique. You think that it's special, has a nice feel to it, and most importantly, seems so original. You think there can't possibly be another Khaki in the world.
Then, one day, you meet another Khaki, and you're just an ass named after a color. Not even a really solid, legitimate color, but a color ranging from off-white to army green.The color for which you are named not only has a complete lack of focus, but is primarily reserved for clothing. You are an unfocused pair of pants.
on confidence, courage, and change
I got invited to a final interview with
Teach for America. I'm, like, totally stoked.
It occurs to me occassionally how much I've grown over the last two years. Back then, I never would have thought myself capable of many of the things I've done since. I don't know where the jolt of self-confidence came from, but somewhere along the line I told myself I could do it, and I did. I'm not sure now what the next two years will hold for me, but no matter what, I think I can take it on. Whether it's teaching inner-city kids or selling my soul to graduate school, I've totally got this. Breaking down, breaking up, moving out, moving up, eating ramen every night and changing lives--my world is going to be turned upside down over the next two years, even if I never leave Louisiana. Maybe someday I'll work up the courage to go live somewhere new, but for now, I can find plenty of challenges right here at home.
"everything changes, nothing perishes"
[omnia mutantur, nihil interit] -Ovid, Metamorphoses [15.165]
a boycott, a smile, and a sunset
I broke my Wal-Mart boycott Tuesday night in a state of crisis. But after eight months, three weeks, four days, and about twelve hours, I think I had a pretty good run. I'd bought a pair of
super-hott Chinese Laundry shoes to dress me up a bit for my interview the next day, only to get home and realize I couldn't walk in them because the backs kept slipping off my heels. So, Wal-Mart being the only place that was open, I begrudgingly broke the boycott with Best Friend Roommate. But alas, in typical Wal-Mart fashion, they were fresh out of heel grips. I had to settle for some ball-of-the-foot pads that I thought might push my feet up a bit, but only succeeded in making my shoes a little more squishy. The entire experience reassured me that my boycott was, in fact, justified, as even at 11pm Wal Mart is miserable. I was competing for aisle space against men armed with forklifts and hand trucks, I could have sworn the electronics section was being robbed for the constant, rhythmically beeping, ear-piercing noise, and, of course, I waited in line for twenty minutes to check out. When I swiped my card I was randomly selected to evaluate the cleanliness of the store, and you better bet I said it was filthy. I wish it'd been an open-ended question--I would have written an essay on all of the reasons I hate their store.
Fortunately, I had enough time to run by Payless on my way out of town yesterday and grab some heel grips. I got down to New Orleans about thirty minutes early, plenty of time to find the building and a parking spot. Now straighten that skirt, girl, stamp out that cigarette, and act like those shoes don't kill you. I marched in like a champ, my ambivalence about the job itself hidden by my sparkling charm. I got a quick tour of the building, my shoes making what seemed like quite a clamor on the ancient wood floors. It was all winding halls and nested offices; I don't think they even had air-conditioning. Very nonprofit, very New Orleans.
They were great, awesome, amazingly cool people, but about halfway through the interview they broke it down for me--they really liked me, but the position had already been filled by a former intern, and they want me to intern for them instead. It's basically the same job, full time, but unpaid. I told them I'd keep it in mind, but I'm sure they know better than to hold their breath. I left with a smile in my heart nevertheless--I'd gotten the chance to meet some really cool people, I'm always happy just to drive around New Orleans, and I had time to go see an old friend before meeting Nick for dinner.
I'd never driven across the Causeway before, as I'm always taking either the twinspan or the spillway out of the city. It crosses the longest part of the lake, over to Mandeville where Nick lives now, and I realized that for several miles in the middle of it, you can't see anything but water. You might as well be in the middle of the ocean. I was driving at dusk, and could follow the sun setting into the water through my window. It was awesome. I had a beautiful day.
and yet I'm blogging
Oh my gosh, I've been so busy.
I've been working out, working late, applying and interviewing, reading, writing, studying, testing, aceing. I've got three minutes to write before my web-conference begins, after which I'm off to the mall to find that perfect pair of shoes for that job interview tomorrow, and no time at all to figure out whether I actually
want this job. My boyfriend moved an hour away and I've barely noticed, except that he keeps calling to say he misses me, which is really starting to interfere with my productivity. These antidepressants have really given me a kick to get more done, but it seems like I've hardly been coming up for air.
I'll come back to write more soon. I promise.
