Magic School Bus!

I found this great video of The Magic School Bus online. (Apparently all of the episodes are on YouTube.) I actually remember watching this as a young girl. I totally wanted to have field trips this cool.
What I didn't remember was how delightful the individual kids were. I'd kind of like to know what happened to them post-Miz Frizzle's class.
Speaking of Mis Frizzle: I had no idea that Lily Tomlin did her voice. I guess that explains why I love her so much. I kind of want to see a life action version of this show, with Alex Kingston in the teacher role.

Minute to Win It with Grandma

Went to visit my Grandma.  She was excited to see my Mom and me.  And she was reading a sports magazine when we found her.  Among other things, it had an article about next year's Final Four.  They postulated that next year it would be the traditionally good at basketball schools, including MSU, which was on the cover.  (They were also big fans of North Carolina.)  I read bits and pieces of the article after she abandoned it, including anything on MSU and Butler.  Paul, Jimmy, Nate and Danny talk sports a lot, and I always feel lame for not knowing as much as they do.  (Though I honestly don't know if anyone knows as much as Danny does.)  So I try to keep up with the basics. 

Grandma wanted to watch this show called Minute to Win It, which I've never seen before.  I have to say, it's not really my kind of show.  I tend not to watch game shows, and when I do, the ones I like are trivia games, which is why Paul and I once had a standing Jeopardy watching date on Mondays.  (I still watch it occasionally, and I like to play along, because blurting out stuff and using my brain are both my cups of tea.) 
Anyway, the show is mostly silly and strange things, involving household items, like stacking cups in a certain way or throwing ping pong balls.  I wasn't really impressed, but I feel like the stuff on the show would make fun games to play with friends at a party.  Possibly they'd be even more fun with alcohol. 
The show had a young male teacher and an older Mom, and they were pretty cute together.  Then the next contestants were an older Dad (who looked weirdly German) and a cheerleader for some Atlanta team.  The cheerleader reminded me vaguely of Amanda.  The guy was kind of creepy.  A lot of the energy felt false and contrived and there was something about most of the contestants that mostly made me think they just wanted to get on tv. 

Awards Night

So, Erin was lucky enough to win an award, so I (with some of her other friends) went to support her.
There were all sorts of awards.  Bobby, for example, won an award for an essay he wrote, though he wasn't there to receive any praise.  Another young woman I occasionally talk to won an award for an essay she wrote on Pacific Islander fiction, which I know nothing about.  I'm particularly proud of Bobby, because he once told me that I had a positive influence on him.  When I first met him, I didn't think anything like I'm going to positively influence this boy, but I guess that's the way life worked out. 
For prizes, in addition to money, they gave away seed packets, which I really liked.  It's almost it's own metaphor: at school, teachers and books plant ideas in you; now you have seeds to literally plant.   
I had classes in this particular building, and at one point, I heard the nearby bell tower chiming, and it reminded me of one class I had.  It was in the morning, and I remember how much I enjoyed the quiet walk there, and how I was usually the first one there.  It was so warm in this room, I would usually go over to the window and open it up, and somehow, this was unintentionally timed to correspond with just about the time that same bell tower would chime. 
Erin got an award for creative writing, and she read a short piece about herself.  It was about how she doesn't like to be touched.  (I need to write on this same topic, now that I'm thinking about it.)  She read really fast, and honestly, I don't think anyone in the audience really got all of it. 
Erin tends to write longer pieces, which aren't really conducive to the format.  (Other winners, including Lia, were reading poetry or performing small pieces from a longer play.)  Erin needs to pick shorter pieces and she seriously needs to slow down.
I did get to see the professor in charge of screenwriting.  Erin had complained, in passing, that he wasn't much of a creative writing teacher but more of a public relations/advertising kind of guy.  The moment I saw him, I whispered to Erin "Seriously?" which made her choke and laugh. 
After the ceremony, Erin revealed that her parents and uncle were in town.  And she hadn't invited them to the awards night.  This surprised me a little and then it made me sad.  I would give anything to have my parents come to something like this, but they wouldn't.  Not that I'm ever going to win an award, but I would never not tell my parents about something like this, especially given that they were here anyway. 
They were at the coffee shop across the street, so a group of us walked over there.  I had never met Erin's parents before, but some of the other friends in the group, like Liz and Jon, had. 
Erin has told me a lot of stories about her parents over the years, so I thought I would know them better than some of my other friend's parents.  And there wasn't anything about them that struck me as a lie on Erin's part, but I had always imagined them differently. 

For example, I had always imagined her Dad to be tall, almost entirely bald, and had little tuffs of white hair, which he wouldn't comb and would stick out all over the place.  I imagined he'd wear glasses.  And be overweight.  Basically, I imagined George Bluth, the Grandpa, from Arrested Development. 
Instead, he was shorter.  And his hair was sandy, and possibly he had a comb-over, because it looked strangely similar to Donald Trump.  His face was wider instead of longer.  He didn't wear glasses.  And there was something Hobbit like about him. 
The other thing about him was that I imagined he would speak like Erin spoke, which is to say, like me.  But he had a distinct accent, something I've heard people refer to as a Yooper accent.  Erin hates that term, and I can understand why.  I would describe his accent as sounding something similar to a Finnish American. 
I imagined her Mom would look almost exactly like her, only older, but she was shorter and very slim and her face was longer than I had imagined.  She actually looked similar in appearance to Erin's brother. 
And her Uncle looked a lot like her Dad, except he had long hair.  Come to think of it, he looked a lot like I imagined Erin's brother would look like, before I had met him.   
This is a good example of why I want to meet people's families.  I want to know everything I possibly can about my friends, and their families are an important part of their lives.  And because my imagination is clearly off. 
Erin introduced us, and her Dad clearly remembered Jon and Liz.  We spoke briefly.  There were some awkward pauses, which I guess I should of expected too, but there was something about having the quirkiness of Erin's family confirmed that made this funny to me.  Erin was right, they were different, but in ways that I hadn't considered.  They were looking for somewhere to eat, and someone suggested one of the local bar and restaurants, so we trooped over there.
It wasn't really that late yet, but the bar at this place was totally full.  We had a big group so we got a long table for ourselves.  I sat near Carrie, Erin's brother, and Erin's Mom.  I ordered a burger and some drinks. 
I tried to make conversation.  Carrie and I talked about future plans.  I tried to talk to Erin's brother about what he was studying and where he lived, since these were some of the few things I knew about him.  He was sort of hard to talk to, not because he was mean, but because he didn't offer much.  I was hoping maybe he would talk about his program, since I had friends who were part of the same thing.  I asked him if he liked where he lived, but he didn't have much to say on the subject. 
I racked my brain for other things to talk about, but I really couldn't come up with much.  I remembered Erin complaining about the Bart Stupak controversy last year, and remembering something she had mentioned about him, I asked her Mom about it.  This turned out to be a mistake because Erin's Mom did not have the same political views as Erin, which I thought she did, because of the way Erin talked about her family's politics. 

Poetry Reading

So, picking up where I left off on my last little story, I went to the poetry reading and did manage to surprise this professor.  It was sort of a relief to finally have achieved this surprise without too much ruining it. 
There is always this table in the back to the theatre where they sell poetry books and sometimes other stuff, and I was back there talking to Stephanie and Lia.  At one point they both looked over my shoulders and said "hey Mark!"
I turned around and, indeed there he was.  When I saw him last, his hair was a light blonde and it was close shaven.  Now he had grown his hair out, it seemed darker, it was highlighted, and he had a goatee.  I was kind of surprised by this change of look, because he had changed his look not that long ago. 
"Hi," I said, a big grin spreading across my face.  I was very happy to see him.  "You're looking very Renaissance." 
I mean, obviously he wasn't wearing the tights and those poofy pants that Shakespeare rocked so well, but I think he understood and took it as a compliment. 
Mark was surprised to see me as well, which was unintentional, since I wasn't even sure if he was going to be around tonight.  But I was glad he was.  We got to talking, shuffling off to the side to let people in.  We did the usual small chat and then talked about a teacher we had together.  I had seen this teacher recently and I reported to Mark that said teacher remembered him. 
This was not the whole story, but I was reluctant to tell him the whole thing.  When I saw this particular teacher, he had asked about Mark and I.  And by asked, he simply said "So, how are you and Mark?"  There was this terribly awful pause and then I realized this teacher thought we were dating. 
We aren't. 
The truly bad thing is that this is not the first person or even the first teacher to comment on Mark and I, which makes me a bit uncomfortable.  It's one thing when your friends know you like someone.  That's normal, especially when you make your preferences to them known.  But it's another thing entirely when it's just people you work with or teachers.  My feelings aren't meant to be so obviously to the world. 
As Mark and I were talking, Lia came over to commend us for not talking so loudly.  This was a problem I had last year.  (Actually, it's been a problem I've had forever, but it became of particular issue last year.) 
Derek came by, and it was my turn to be surprised.  Derek graduated ages ago, and although it wasn't a complete surprise to see him, it hadn't crossed my mind that I would.  He sort of looked at the two of us strangely and I realized that he was probably thinking the same thing as everyone else. 
I guess it's a good thing I didn't pursue a career in acting?
Mark and I decided to sit together.  We walked down to some seats near the stage.  As I sat down, I noticed another teacher from a few years back sit down.  He was surprised to see me, and I nicely waved at him. 
On a whim, I turned to Mark and said "So, how's your girlfriend?"  I couldn't remember her name, though I remembered she was a redhead, very pretty, and very slim. 
Mark looked a bit surprised and uncomfortable, but he said "We're not dating anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
This was sort of a lie.  On one hand, I've had enough bad breakups that I know it hurts like hell, and can actually make things between other friends miserable.  (And has gotten to the point where I'm usually apathetic towards dating.  It takes a lot to get me interested in a guy to the point where I want to date him, and frankly, liking him isn't enough for me anymore.  I have to trust him, and the vast majority of guys I like never pass into trustable.) 
On the other hand, I do like Mark, and she was the reason I didn't pursue him earlier.  He was already dating her when I met him.  It was sort of a disappointment, but I promised myself years ago that I would never encourage a couple to break up.  If the guy really does like me, he'll realize it isn't fair to date someone else, and he'll do the breaking up on his own, regardless of whether or not he knows I'm willing to date an unattached version of him. 
The reading was starting up, so I didn't question Mark further.  I don't know if there would be that much to say either.  I think I would have just graciously offered to hear Mark out if he needed someone to talk to (always something I've needed post-breakup) but then also make clear he was under no requirement to talk to me if he didn't want to. 
The reading went okay.  I really like this professor, and the poetry she has been writing the last few years has been super intense and Wallace Stevens like.  I've been very impressed by it, especially since it was such a departure from her earlier work. 
Which is why I was kind of disappointed that she read her less challenging poetry.  She read more of prose stuff, not her deep image stuff.  She read one poem about sheep blocking a road, and I thought about how that was the sort of poem that would please non-poetry people. 

After the reading, I introduced Mark to Derek.  Mark and Derek both happen to be big fans of Arrested Development.  I told Mark about how Derek and I use to refer to one another as "Hey Hermano," which is a reference to the show.  (There's actually a slightly longer story there, but one I won't bore you with.)
Mark and I continued talking, slightly in the corner.  I told him about my roommate fiasco from a few months ago.  I told him about how I was raised by a master of passive aggressiveness, who was also raised by a master of passive aggressiveness, so really, I was quite good at being that way. 
"I can make anything sound passive aggressive," I said.  "Even something like 'yeah, okay.'"  I emphasized the words so that they sounded the opposite of "yeah" and "okay."

This is What a Normal 24 Hours Looks Like

I was advised to put the mail in the mailbox next to the subway, which I did.  Since I was on my way out, this worked out surprisingly well. 

As I was in the subway, I put on my MP3 player.  The first song to come on?  "Mercy Me" by Alkaline Trio.  Just before I had left, I had a conversation about punk rock and I mentioned that I loved this particular band.  Funny how life happens that way. 

When I got home, I was all alone, so I played music loudly and enjoyed myself.  I was reading some blogs online when one mentioned about a recent National Suit Up Day to celebrate How I Met Your Mother.  I don't really watch that show, but Dan does, so I texted him. 
"Are you wearing a suit?" I asked.  I imagined him in one.  Cut rightly, it would flatter him.  The actually suit would have to be form fitted, and the pants would have to be the right length (covering the ankles and slightly covering the shoes), but he would look good and adult and mature. 
"I don't own a suit," he texted back.  Way to blow that fantasy. 
I was a little surprised this was the answer, since Dan drinks gin and has elitist views about art.  But I can't really think of a reason he would need a suit either.  He's also an awkward science boy; he needs clothes he can use to trample around in the mud and whatnot.

Dan texted me back.  "Do you know who does have a suit?" 
I thought maybe he'd mention his roommate, who also has no particular reason to have a suit.  "James Bond" I texted back. 
"Glenn Beck," he answered.  I actually had a hard time remembering what Beck wears.  Usually I'm too busy being annoyed at him. 
I decided not to text Dan further, just because he is anti-text message. 
Inga came home, and we chatted about our days.  Inga's an actress, so she told me all about how annoying her opera teacher is and how annoying this other actress in her class is. 
Jackie, one of the other roommates, came in, and we chatted about boys.  Jackie's boyfriend is thirty years old, which is way older than her and which I think is kind of creepy, though I don't think it's my place to tell her what to do. 
Inga and I had dinner together.  (Jackie's been sick recently and hasn't wanted food lately, though she had a little later than us.)  We had a nice conversation about siblings.
I like my roommates a lot, but everyone goes to bed so early.  Around 10:30 or 11, which is ungodly early, really.  I am use to going to bed, at the earliest, midnight.  And when I'm having sleeping problems (which haven't affected me much in the last week) I'm lucky if I make it to bed before 3 in the morning.  One of my former roommates, Sam, had the same problem as me, and I can't imagine her living with these girls. 

Since I don't have to be up as early as them, I've been staying up later.  I go to another part of the building and work on other things, mostly catching up on email.  I sat in one of the lounges as this girl watched Law and Order: LA.  It's by far the most boring of the franchise, and this comes from someone who watched all of Conviction. 
I went back to the room to go to bed, and I don't think I made too much noise.  And then I crashed. 
Camilla gets up around 6 or 7 to exercise, which is fine but she exercises less than a half foot from my bed.  The first time I noticed it, my voice caught a little.  I didn't quite gasp. 
I had breakfast that morning with Jackie.  I don't think we talked much, but we were both tired.  I stole a box of Cheerio's and a bagel out of the caf. 
The girls all left before I did for school.  My schedule looks like it's going to be later in the day than most of them.  After they left, I did all my usual stuff to get ready: brushing my hair, brushing my teeth, putting on my perfume, etc. 
I worked on some things online as I waited for it to get closer to when I needed to leave.  I wrote some notes to friends. 
I noticed that Justin was online, so I chatted with him.  Justin is about to turn 25, and he mentioned that some of his Chinese friends want to take him to a strip club.  I still think this is a great idea, one that Justin should totally go for, but I don't think this is going to happen.  I suggested that he get a couple of other friends together for this little outing, like Nick, Dan and Daniel.  There were few things I could think of that would be as funny as those four trying not to be awkward in a strip club.  They're awkward around girls dressed normally; I can't imagine them around the scantily clad kind.  Justin had to get going to class, and I was leaving soon myself, so I let him go. 
I finally got my stuff together, and caught the subway.  Sort of.  I went into the car, and waited and waited.  Finally, three fire fighters came by on the platform, wheeling one of those cart things.  I had enough time to think "Er..." before someone came over the intercom and said that a customer was sick and that they would be starting off soon.
And eventually we did get going, though they changed where we would be stopping.  This didn't affect my traveling, but it did affect a lot of other people's, who got off. 
When I got to work, Alex wasn't in, so I got started on a project that Alexander had for me.  He wanted me to do some research and familiarize myself with some stuff on ecofeminism.  I don't really know much about ecofeminism, so I got started on the project, reading the materials he gave me.
I guess for the time being this is what my schedule is going to be, which is weirdly normal.  I don't know if I can handle having a set schedule and being normal and all that.  I'm use to having nothing set in stone and getting frustrated.  What am I going to do when I don't have to be frustrated all the time?

Good Morning!

My dream this morning started off normally.  I was in a classroom, and one of my old math teachers was up at the front, teaching.  Everyone from these math classes I used to take was sitting in the desks, only they were older now, as these classes were years ago.  After class ended, I put on my backpack (which was heavy) and my Dad came and picked me up. 
This is where the dream started getting weird.  We were walking along a river, and then we were walking on stepstones to get across the river, and then there was a strange sideways fountain that I think I was suppose to use as a transport device. 
I never really found out because my phone rang and woke me up.  It was Nate, sending me a text message, simply saying good morning.  The first thing I thought was "What could Nate possibly want from me?"  Not that Nate usually wants something (he's pretty good at taking care of himself, especially since the beginning of this year) but I felt like I was getting buttered up for something.  I don't know Nate's schedule right now, but it was at the time of day when a lot of people are suppose to be in class. 
I didn't reply right away because I was hoping to fall back asleep.  Sometimes I am awoken by something but it's close enough to when my body would have naturally woken me that I am unable to fall back asleep. 
But Nate hasn't texted me back yet, so maybe that means he really just wanted to be nice and actually wish me a good morning. 

Anger and Artwork

Another day of babysitting.
This time, the little girl got really upset when her Mom decided to leave.  I've babysat for this family before, and yesterday she was fine, so I don't know what got her so upset, but she went ballistic in that impotent way that most children get.  I found myself thinking about the things my Mom would say to me when I was this way as a child: "I'll give you something to cry about."  (Or my Grandma: "I hit you so hard, your teeth go marching out of your mouth!") 
I'm a big fan of using psychology to deal with children.  I don't know much, but I've been consulting with Josie, and will continue to do so as this job continues as how best to deal with children.  My sense right now is that you shouldn't reward any bad behavior with any kind of attention, positive or negative.  So, the little girl sat in front of the door, screaming and crying for her Mom, and I let her.  I sat nearby reading a book, on the off chance that she did something destructive or ran out the door into the street so that I'd be close at hand. 
It was tough to concentrate on my book, but I managed through three chapters sitting there.  One of their pet cats came by and meowed at me.  She, on the other hand, would eventually get tired and just lay there, in front of the door.  Then she'd get enough energy back and start hollering again. 
I was glad that her Grandma, also in the house, is deaf.  Lucky thing.  It takes me a few minutes to get use to the screaming before I tune it out. 
The last time she had one of these fits in front of me, last year, she ran into her room and screamed in the same way, with the screaming becoming shorter and with longer gaps of silence in between.  She screamed herself so badly that when I finally went in there to check on her, she had fallen asleep.  I was hoping this would happen this time, though I was wary of her sleeping in front of the door.  This little girl doesn't have regularly scheduled naps, but I feel like she should.  I suspect her parents are just not around enough to enforce them, and babysitters like myself probably don't like to start fights. 
After reading three chapters, I moved to the couch.  She could see me sitting there watching her, so maybe making her think I was even less interested would help.  I read through a whole another chapter and I was starting a fifth when she finally got up, went to her room, and brought out a toy, and we started playing.  Like nothing was wrong. 
That took about forty-five minutes.
We played with this dress up doll that was basically an updated version of paper dolls, only the clothes and doll had magnets so they'd stick better.  Then we played with her cats, which I like.  I get the feeling I am already their buddy because they follow me into rooms and come up to me looking to be petted.  The little girl got out one of those toys that is just a strip of cloth with a bell on the end.  She would run from room to room and the cats would chase her. 
One of the things the Mom left me to do with her was to help her set up a toy that required some artistic patience.  She asked me if was arty.  I just told her no, instead of the longer answer of "I'm creative.  No one who makes arty would dare say they were arty.  It's a demonized word by anyone who does it past eleven."  Also, I feel like it's not my job to be your kid's art teacher. 

Con Virgin

Yesterday, I headed over to a steampunk convention. As some of you know, I'm really interested in subcutltures, and steampunk is one of the newest around. I wanted to do a little amateur anthropology work.
But one of the things that happened was that I ran into my old friend Jack, who I went to high school with. It was through him that I heard about the convention.
Jack's a transman, which means that he's going through a transition right now. He's really cool. He mentioned to me that he wants to go back and see a particular teacher, but since he's begun taking hormones (his voice is very different now), he's a little worried about going back to see that teacher. Not so much because that teacher would hate him, but because it might be a little bit of a shock.
I know if I was in Jack's position, I would feel really awkward about it too. I told him that if he went with a group of friends (we all sat together in the back) or someone gave the teacher warning, it might be fine. I didn't think about it at the time, but I probably should have offered to go with him. Hell, I'd even be polite to my ex-boyfriend to get this to work for Jack.
Anyway, I digressed before I even got started on what I wanted to say. The steampunk convention was really cool. There was a merchants room, and I saw all sorts of cool costumes and props and other nerdy things for sale. Even though I had a fair amount of moolah on me, I always feel like I should be very careful what I buy. (NO impulse purchases.) So I mostly looked. There were some beautiful hats and costumes for sale, and they were very expensive looking. I actually managed to make myself a pretty decent costume just out of the stuff I have in my closet. The only thing I really need to do is to improve this look is maybe add an accessory or two to make it more steampunk-y. I collected tons of fliers and business cards, so I'm hoping that there will be people for me to go to for more stuff, should I decide to buy it. I'm a big believer that it's never too early to start making wishlists for Christmas or your birthday.
The only thing I ended up buying were some clip on magnifying glasses. Basically, one of the most important parts of a steampunk costume is the goggles. But of course these goggles have a very particular design, one that suctions down on each eye, making them less than ideal for those of us who wear glasses full time. So, even though this is one nerdy subculture, you can't help but feel, as someone who wears glasses, that you're being discriminated against once again. But they also make these handy magnifiers you can clip to your glasses to give you a steampunk look and still use your prescription lenses.

I'm also thinking that maybe I should use one of my belts and just buy a few simple add-ons, like a flask or jar or gun holster (with gun, obviously) and that will look way more steampunk than some of the other people I saw there. Steampunk is all in the accessories.
Matt and I headed over to the game room for part of the convention. We played the game Arkham Horror, which is based on the Lovecraft stories. It was this big, impressively complicated game involving investigators trying to stop monsters from destroying the town. The representative showing this game looking like he belonged in a mobster movie and smelled like Burger King fries.
100 posts! Which would probably be more impressive if I hadn't skipped two days of posting, just because there hasn't been much going on or too much going on for me to get to room in the day to post something.

Super Extreme Mega History Heroes

Sometimes, even your teachers manage to surprise you.

This morning, I found this video waiting for me in my inbox from my feminism professor. Even though it's true that she is a huge Bronte sisters fan, this is not exactly her style. But I love it. It makes me smile.
"Girls can't write books, ha ha ha!" Lol. I love the idea of boys and girls enacting feminist narratives.
Also, brontesaurus. The only thing I'm a little bothered by is the lace on the dinosaur. I feel like it needs an old school cameo pin too.
My one disappointment when it comes to this professor was not taking her Jane Austen class last year. I think one of my seminars was at the same time, and I didn't want to give that up because I didn't know her and had no idea if she was going to teach a good class. Turns out the feminism class was awesome. I would have almost certainly enjoyed her Austen class.