The last couple of months have been a strange blur. I was just reading Mandy's blog, and it occurred to me that I have seen everyone in my family except Mandy, Grandma and Grandpa in Texas, cousin Luke in Des Moines, and Uncle Tim and family in Chicago. I think I have seen everybody else in the last months.
And, I probably will get to see everybody else in the next month or so. Except Mandy.
In the meantime, I plan to head out to Los Angeles and New Jersey shortly. This is in the middle of writing syllabi for January, training for online teaching, MFA finances, and convincing myself not to go to another random country to teach for another year.
That's it. Oh, except that I picked up Kate, James, Henry, and Finn from the airport this morning, and I'm heading to Des Moines this weekend.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
It's snowing in Minnesota
The top things about Minneapolis that I forgot that I really like:
1. Uptown
2. Microbrews
3. Lots of beautiful lakes
4. The environmental consciousness
5. The diversity
6. Caribou Coffee
7. The farmers' market
8. Heartbreakers'
9. Tons of second hand book stores where I can find complete collections of Stephen Pinker, Anthony Burgess, AND Graham Greene (not much by Edith Wharton though)
10. The Lagoon Theatre
11. The fantastic bus system
12. The Irish restaurants
13. The days that last twenty-six hours and fourteen minutes in June
14. Bluffs along the Mississippi River with the occasional eagle swooping around
The top things about Minneapolis/Minnesota that I remember why I will never move back here again:
1. Snow in October (yes, it was snowing today)
2. Snow in April
3. Temperatures around -60 with wind chill
4. Having cars not start because of frozen gas lines
5. Melting gray slush on the roads and pretty much everywhere in April
6. People huddled around little holes in frozen lakes to catch fish (I never understood this)
7. People bundling up in about thirteen layers of clothing to go expose themselves to wind and snow on unprotected snowmobiles (I never understood this either)
8. Mosquitoes that can be frozen in an ice cube, only to fly out of an unsuspecting woman's lemonade or wake from a snow bank like Frankenstein's monster
9. Days that last about four hours and ten minutes in December
10. Dumping windshield wiper fluid on my junker-car-of-the-moment to try to break through the ice burg on my windshield
11. Alternate side parking
12. Seeing people throwing frisbees and wearing shorts when the weather breaks forty degrees because "Spring is here--woo, hoo!"
1. Uptown
2. Microbrews
3. Lots of beautiful lakes
4. The environmental consciousness
5. The diversity
6. Caribou Coffee
7. The farmers' market
8. Heartbreakers'
9. Tons of second hand book stores where I can find complete collections of Stephen Pinker, Anthony Burgess, AND Graham Greene (not much by Edith Wharton though)
10. The Lagoon Theatre
11. The fantastic bus system
12. The Irish restaurants
13. The days that last twenty-six hours and fourteen minutes in June
14. Bluffs along the Mississippi River with the occasional eagle swooping around
The top things about Minneapolis/Minnesota that I remember why I will never move back here again:
1. Snow in October (yes, it was snowing today)
2. Snow in April
3. Temperatures around -60 with wind chill
4. Having cars not start because of frozen gas lines
5. Melting gray slush on the roads and pretty much everywhere in April
6. People huddled around little holes in frozen lakes to catch fish (I never understood this)
7. People bundling up in about thirteen layers of clothing to go expose themselves to wind and snow on unprotected snowmobiles (I never understood this either)
8. Mosquitoes that can be frozen in an ice cube, only to fly out of an unsuspecting woman's lemonade or wake from a snow bank like Frankenstein's monster
9. Days that last about four hours and ten minutes in December
10. Dumping windshield wiper fluid on my junker-car-of-the-moment to try to break through the ice burg on my windshield
11. Alternate side parking
12. Seeing people throwing frisbees and wearing shorts when the weather breaks forty degrees because "Spring is here--woo, hoo!"
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Worst American Ever
Once upon a time, I remember how exciting all the politics and discussions all seemed. That was before I met my first senator. This quickly dulled my enthusiasm. Even after a couple of trips to the floor of the Supreme Court.
I remember being quite excited about voting. I did some research on the local elections even. Then, I found out that several of my friends had voted multiple times in the presidential election. This again quickly dulled my enthusiasm.
Then--well, not very long ago--I tried to register to vote but couldn't because I couldn't prove my residency. This quickly quelled my voting potentiality.
And this year, within the fervor of the political fever, I lost track of the deadline and didn't register in time. "We will process your registration," assured the lady at the courthouse, "but it won't be until after the election."
Okay.
This has squelched my willingness to vote (my ability to vote, too, yes) in this election.
I delude myself: I would have tried to find a third party candidate for whom to vote, so my vote wouldn't count anyway; I do not spend the time researching the election that I should; and I cannot think of voting within this two-party system currently.
Yes, I will not be voting in the upcoming election. Yes, I am the worst American in the world. Yes, I should reserve my opinions and not share them because I will not even stand up to vote.
But I do have a blog that at least two people read. So, ha. I will share.
I find the definitions of the parties muddled. I find the discussions the candidates have about the "issues" are contrived and driven by marketers and image-consultants. And the things that seem to be important to people are lost in this mess of confusion and blame and previous voting histories. Thoreau's definition of government seems about as practical as the transcendentalists' ideals of the sublime although I find both these lofty ideals something worth striving for. These are the ideals and intangibles of the government that I long for politicians to strive for.
Yeah, in a fairy tale.
I remember being quite excited about voting. I did some research on the local elections even. Then, I found out that several of my friends had voted multiple times in the presidential election. This again quickly dulled my enthusiasm.
Then--well, not very long ago--I tried to register to vote but couldn't because I couldn't prove my residency. This quickly quelled my voting potentiality.
And this year, within the fervor of the political fever, I lost track of the deadline and didn't register in time. "We will process your registration," assured the lady at the courthouse, "but it won't be until after the election."
Okay.
This has squelched my willingness to vote (my ability to vote, too, yes) in this election.
I delude myself: I would have tried to find a third party candidate for whom to vote, so my vote wouldn't count anyway; I do not spend the time researching the election that I should; and I cannot think of voting within this two-party system currently.
Yes, I will not be voting in the upcoming election. Yes, I am the worst American in the world. Yes, I should reserve my opinions and not share them because I will not even stand up to vote.
But I do have a blog that at least two people read. So, ha. I will share.
I find the definitions of the parties muddled. I find the discussions the candidates have about the "issues" are contrived and driven by marketers and image-consultants. And the things that seem to be important to people are lost in this mess of confusion and blame and previous voting histories. Thoreau's definition of government seems about as practical as the transcendentalists' ideals of the sublime although I find both these lofty ideals something worth striving for. These are the ideals and intangibles of the government that I long for politicians to strive for.
Yeah, in a fairy tale.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Busy, bored, and blase
Funny, I'm in this paradoxical stage at this moment: I'm sort of in a holding pattern, waiting for things to come through, praying that the best options will work out, and filling out tons of paperwork and applications. I'm keeping relatively busy, but I'm also bored out of my mind.
All of this planning is only peripherally exciting for me right now. The decision-making process is always too drawn out for me; if God wants something to happen, it will happen whether I spend a month pondering something or a day. So while I am looking forward to the next chapter or whatever, I'm ready to get it going. I would rather be riding on a Siberian train, sitting on a beach in Sri Lanka, or doing something--but whatever it is, well, it's just over the horizon and just out of my reach. Cicero, Indiana does not hold the same excitement and adventure that I crave.
In fact, I was having a funny conversation today with Mom in which I was trying to explain to her why Cicero is boring for me right now--a seedy part of downtown Indy might be alright, preferably within walking distance of Martin--and I was trying to explain this very nicely as I had just finished Life of Pi.
And here is where all my wise sisters are supposed to jump in and tell me about how God is teaching me patience or some other powerful lesson right now. Fantastic. I want to learn it yesterday so I can move onto the next thing.
All of this planning is only peripherally exciting for me right now. The decision-making process is always too drawn out for me; if God wants something to happen, it will happen whether I spend a month pondering something or a day. So while I am looking forward to the next chapter or whatever, I'm ready to get it going. I would rather be riding on a Siberian train, sitting on a beach in Sri Lanka, or doing something--but whatever it is, well, it's just over the horizon and just out of my reach. Cicero, Indiana does not hold the same excitement and adventure that I crave.
In fact, I was having a funny conversation today with Mom in which I was trying to explain to her why Cicero is boring for me right now--a seedy part of downtown Indy might be alright, preferably within walking distance of Martin--and I was trying to explain this very nicely as I had just finished Life of Pi.
And here is where all my wise sisters are supposed to jump in and tell me about how God is teaching me patience or some other powerful lesson right now. Fantastic. I want to learn it yesterday so I can move onto the next thing.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
It's 40 in Indy
There are a few things I like about fall: the pumpkin spice cappuccinos, laying in the sun like a cat with cold feet, starting a fire in the evening, drinking many cups of hot tea/coffee/cocoa, and wrapping a big sweater around me.
But none of these things outweigh the sense of impending doom that the fall always seems to carry.
Granted, Indiana is nothing like Minnesota. Nonetheless, I still dread the mornings when I do not want to take my icy toes out of bed, when I want to wear my winter coat around the house, when I can't imagine going outside let alone standing outside to chip the ice off the windshield of some car, when everything seems to fade to hues of gray and black, when I want to turn up the thermostat and drink some hot cider and listen to some strangely exotic music.
Okay, I'm only exaggerating a little.
A month ago, in Korea, it was muggy and 90 degrees everyday. Then, Indy was hot and wonderful when I got here. I spent a couple of warm weeks in Hawaii, and I'm ready to coast through this winter. But it was a little too much to fly into the airport in Indy two days ago and have the temperature be 40.
I think I may move to Central America.
But none of these things outweigh the sense of impending doom that the fall always seems to carry.
Granted, Indiana is nothing like Minnesota. Nonetheless, I still dread the mornings when I do not want to take my icy toes out of bed, when I want to wear my winter coat around the house, when I can't imagine going outside let alone standing outside to chip the ice off the windshield of some car, when everything seems to fade to hues of gray and black, when I want to turn up the thermostat and drink some hot cider and listen to some strangely exotic music.
Okay, I'm only exaggerating a little.
A month ago, in Korea, it was muggy and 90 degrees everyday. Then, Indy was hot and wonderful when I got here. I spent a couple of warm weeks in Hawaii, and I'm ready to coast through this winter. But it was a little too much to fly into the airport in Indy two days ago and have the temperature be 40.
I think I may move to Central America.
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