looking back on today:

hello, readers!

another year ends. at this rate, i'll be lying face up in a rosewood coffin soon. 2008 was an epic year in many ways: birth of the iphone, record gas prices, 2008 olympics in beijing, &c. while i scarcely compare to such milestones in our world's history, i believe that 2008 was also an interesting year in the life of andrea. i'm no obama-- and don't pretend to be-- but here's a little blog post dedicated to giving me some "media" attention beyond my previous blog posts:

in 2008, i moved 3 times: from my parents' house to vista, to the yellow house in hillview, and to my own lovely apartment.

in 2008, my ipod music collection grew from 0 on 12/25/2007 to its now present size of 1573 songs and 2 videos.

in 2008, i was officially single for the entire year. the dating scene appalls me in so many ways. but in 2008, i also shopped around a little and unofficially hung out with: an immature army boy/fling from high school, a book-reading boy from the navy, a deceivingly perfect-for-me MFA student with nerdy glasses, a cardiologist, a tall army engineer from hawaii who reads hunter s. thompson, a tortured emo kid, and my ex of 4 years.

in 2008, i fell in love with japanese delicacies: sushi, miso soup, and saki.




in 2008, i experienced las vegas for the first time. with kim at my side, we explored airports, casinos, dark and smoky clubs, limousines, designer clothes shops, the bellagio fountains, the best sausage ever, swimming pools, andrea getting carded to buy a bottle of water (yes, it really happened), a bonafide VIP suite at studio 54, and dangerous cab rides.


in 2008, i became a gaming nerd. from fowl words on miniclip to rock band on xbox to color junction on igoogle, i started losing sleep over the arrangements of dangerously attractive pixels.


in 2008, i jealously coveted young hollywood's glamour.


in 2008, i learned more about teaching and read more teaching theory-- to no avail and to great impact, simultaneously.

in 2008, i witnessed two namings of america's next top model through the glorious, all-real television: plus-size southern belle whitney and painfully gorgeous mckey.

in 2008, i wrote a lot. i dabbled in creative nonfiction, and my love for poetry was renewed with ENGl 406G. i journaled almost every day from may to october. i wrote finalized 13 poems, and i am the most proud of my creative writing that i've ever been.

in 2008, i ended my teaching career at boise state. i also gave up my totally sweet office.


in 2008, i discovered ed hardy and betsey johnson.

in 2008, i was walked on and taken advantage of. in 2008, i lied, cried, and vowed revenge. in 2008, i was scared, lonely, and vulnerable. in 2008, i was selfish, self-centered and vain. in 2008, i saw a chance for a brighter discontent.

in 2008, my friend amy got married, as did my high school crush.

in 2008, i became an educated woman.



in 2008, i presently look forward to a better 2009. my deepest, most sincere wishes to you in the new year-- always.

tell me what you don't like about yourself.

a few years ago, i unassumingly flipped through television channels and stopped: on my screen in a dashing blue collared shirt, dr. christian troy pouted with his perfectly shaped bottom lip to his plastic surgery partner sean mcnamara about sucking the fat out of a size 2. words like "ethics" blurred with the sound of expensive shiny shoes tapping on the floor. a gorgeous white lamp glowed in the background.

when i subscribed to netflix, i browsed through the TV section (bad bad bad bad idea), and found "nip/tuck." i added all seasons. approximately 3 months later, i've watched all four seasons, or approximately 24 discs, or roughly 72 episodes.

let me attempt to explain how i could fall so in love with ryan murphy's brilliant show about plastic surgery in south beach, miami (even though it's actually filmed in los angeles):

1. the characters are dramatic but three dimensional. christian is a womanizer (oh. womanizer. oh.) but was sexually abused as a foster child by his father. sean tries to fix his son conor's disability because he, at one point in time, suffered from a physical abnormality that caused his parents to divorce. ava is really a man. and julia is beautiful, smart, and tragic.

2. after watching a DVD extra on the set design for "nip/tuck," i can't stop craving cold furniture, circular reflection ponds, and green & gray together. everything about this show's sets makes me dreamy.

3. you learn valuable lessons like: don't take blood money from drug lords because bad people like escobar gallardo will demand a facial reconstruction and then point a gun at your head, don't take a pretty face home from a bar or you may wake up without a kidney, and don't believe a man's rating system-- an 8 is wonderful.

4. joely richardson is magnificent. i love her. l.o.v.e her.

5. speaking of miss joely, john hensley is actually only 12 years younger than joely-- even though he plays her 18-year-old son on the show.

6. gerbils shit. a lot. and flushing them down the toilet is not a good idea.

7. just when i think i am numb and can't possibly be moved by anything, "nip/tuck" explores the devastating effects of alzheimers and a dedicated wife who undergoes intense surgery to look 20 years younger so her sick husband will recognize her. and julia decides to leave sean (again) but runs back to him outside the airport and whispers: "i love you, you know" as she wraps her slender arms around his neck. and christian is raped-- by a man.

8. everyone has flaws. some you can't see; others you can; all are what make us human.

a dear student

i complain a lot, don't i? it's such a misrepresentation of my life; i am continually reminded of the many blessings that enrich and complete me.

for example:

1. i have a fabulous new apartment all to myself. i can set the heater at 62 (please believe it, because anything else is a waste of money; that's why God invented fleece zip-ups and socks), i never have to look at a dirty dish collecting mold on the kitchen table, and i have a great view of several trees and an empty pond.

2. i love my peers, and i almost cried tonight when i walked to my car after saying goodbye to jessica after our last 561 class of the semester-- of ever.

3. i realize that no phd program will ever accept me based on my lack of scholarly research, publications, etc., but at least i don't slander the literary name like jodie foster did in "the brave one": she used robert frost's line of poetry "i could not stop for death so he kindly stopped for me" as her justification for her vigilante killing spree.

4. on the last day of 101, one of my students came up to me afterwards and said he was sad that our class was over. (insert my heart breaking here.)

then he asked if it was okay that he signed up for an hour block to go over his portfolio with me during conferences. he said our unit 3 conference helped him a lot and he wanted to make sure he had enough time for the portfolio conference. both unit 3 and portfolio conferences were optional. (insert pieces of broken heart breaking into smaller pieces.)

and then during our hour long conference going over two of his poems, he said, "can i come back later this week to talk about my short story? this is so helpful. i don't know what i'd do without you."

i thought my students had stolen my soul, tortured it with their eye-rolling, taunted it with their finger-guns silently blowing out their nonexistent brains, and crushed its vibrant desires into runny pulp and squelched dreams. but this student's comments reminded me that i do indeed still have a soul.

and that soul will miss teaching.

i'm not in denial... i just refuse to listen to your truth.

i graduate in approximately 9 days. in 9 days, i could drive across the country. in 9 days, i could listen to "brighter discontent" by the submarines over 3,103 times. in 9 days, i will be unemployed.

my impending poverty makes me question my recent purchases that could have provided 6 months of groceries, like the above betsey johnson dress. add the ed hardy watch and you're approaching 8. add the nina shoes and you're at 10. add my diamond necklace and you're at 2.5 years. all for one outfit. (i'll insert here that the black shrug was only $6 on clearance at vanity!) the occassion that calls for such extravagance: the 4th annual english majors association banquet.

nevermind that the theme of said banquet was "the great depression." boxes of baking soda, mac and cheese, and canned corn were the centerpieces. a brown, worn boot accepted donations.

two of my friends' fathers have been laid off in the past week. another friend works 2 jobs and complains about the whiny "masters holders" that work at starbucks with her. the career center rep from BSU bemoans the sudden dearth of off-campus job postings.

i'd like to think that even albertson's needs someone to arrange the red, shiny apples just right. or some lazy CEO needs a girl to staple his revised budget reports and proposed productivity increases. or bath and body works needs an "elf" in a green apron to offer product scents and squirts of lotion.

leave me to my denial. let me bask in the glory of unfulfilled expectations. it's nothing that i'm not used to.

i can't be who you are.

i just woke up for the last time at my lovely little yellow hillview house. my room is bare except for my (gutted) desk, bed, and computer. some of my landlord's furniture lines the walls-- all empty. i feel like every keyboard stroke shatters against the bare blue paint, echoes glaringly off the gold curtains (now limp and pulled taut across the windows), and weighs heavily on the floorboards that creak with my last footsteps across the knots and separating planks.

i won't lie-- i'll miss pieces of you. but for the pieces i won't, i've boxed up our memories, sealed them tightly in a circular, green box and left them for you in the corner. parcel them out yourself.

be warned: you'll find cobwebs of wide smiles, dusty lint that whispers late night conversations stuck on repeat, and many, many pictures of regret.

goodbye, you bastard. may you reign here as unhappy as you were when i first shook your hand and fell for the mask they all still ignorantly accept.

i suddenly understand:

i heard a line somewhere (perhaps read a line somewhere) that's something like this: "at the precipice edge we stand alone." sounds pretty dark, right?

but that's where i am right now.

in many aspects of my life, i've reached the end:

-the end of my student days at boise state
-the end of my masters degree
-the end of my conversations with fellow TAs about the meta-meta-metaness of rhet/comp theory
-the end of my teaching faithful yet heartless 101 students
-the end of my cohabitation with a guy i used to really admire and who seemed to emulate all those wonderful bookish-writerly things that i never was
-the end of living with roommates.ever. (husbands don't count)
-the end of purchasing spendy (and now very mainstream) ed hardy items online, since i now have a rent payment/utils to pay for SOLO
-the end of vacillating freely in the far-off notion that someday i'll have to make a decision

because i've reached the edge of the precipice. and i am alone. i won't have my student peers to remind me of how english studies dumb i am, or students to email me frantically in the middle of the night so that the first thing i do in the morning is check my "teacher" email, or loudly thunking footsteps outside my door in the AM.

i wish i could describe the view from here, but i'm afraid of opening my eyes. i wish i could dance and sashay my hips a little to celebrate that i've made it. i'm here. i've arrived.

just please tell me it's not a dead end. i don't have wings to fly. and i don't have the guts to jump.

personal essaying

last night, i sat down and wrote a segmented personal essay. it gets better: not just any personal essay, but a personal essay that i assigned for my students. i sat down in my cozy, welcoming office (*sudden outburst of hysterical laughter distracts writer*) and looked over my own assignment sheet for unit one.

i asked my students to explore the question, "why write?" which framed my entire 101 semester. we brainstormed some reasons in class, and the activities we did responded to their ideas. but it was my turn to share why i write with my students, and i referred to a list of brainstorming questions i gave them almost 10 weeks ago.

not only did i stare at the blank screen for longer than expected, but i found myself bullshitting my own assignment. "ha, i write because i have to. neener." "i write because i'm emo." oh man, is this what happened for my students too? and why did i feel the need to mock an activity that i use to define myself-- my interests-- my goals in life?

perhaps i was uncomfortable admitting to my students how seriously i really do enjoy writing. it's not a choice for me. i write because i am a shriveled up, cranky, apathetic mess without it. how could i possibly share that with them? i'd seem like a freak. (who wears ed hardy shoes. i just have to add that because i'm staring at my pink shoes with a bright koi fish staring back at me. loves.)

but i am a freak.

aren't you too? don't you write because you have something to say? and not just anything: but something you deem important enough to set pen to paper (or-- who am i kidding-- finger to keyboard)? writing is selfish; writing is self-centered; writing is--

self.

it could always be worse:

greetings, dear blog readers (all 2 of you!). i've been noticeably absent lately, and i whole-heartedly blame this on a number of things-- including the typical "i've been busying updating my facebook status... isn't that enough to appease you people?!" excuse-- but i also point the finger at the increasing emo attitude that has sunk into the return of my purple eyeliner and 3 skimmer shoe purchases lately.

(the shoes are cute though. one pair is black with blue and purple stars on them. not at all emo. stop looking at me like that.)

it seems like any post that i wanted to start would probably detail how miserable grad school makes me right now (including no literature classes...it's sooooo great that i'm pursuing a degree that doesn't offer any interesting classes at the right time for its students!), or how i die a little inside each day i walk to my 101 classes, or how much i hate being single and i'm becoming increasingly convinced that i am utterly undesireable and destined to reign domestically alongside 10 ferrets and closets full of ed hardy shirts.

but, in all reality, school is much better than i thought it would be. and my students are actually fabulous writers with incredibly rich backgrounds and beliefs about writing. and my love life would probably improve if my choice in boys would likewise improve.

so, you ask, what is your deal? can you find nothing to celebrate?

boise's rapid descent into winter has begun with the threat of rain, chilly mornings, and almost overnight change of leaf colors. this morning after i woke with a killer hangover (from my attempts to drown my emo outlook with blue boar beer and season two of "arrested development"), i made a special trip to campus to print and deliver an article for a student (i care too much, even though i said i wouldn't). on the way there, i selected p!nk's new song "so what" to blast on my stereo, slapped on my hot pink aviators, and slung my left arm over my steering wheel like a bad-a from mo-town in central cali.

i floored it. so what? i'm still a rockstar. i've got my rock moves, and i don't need you. and guess what? i'm havin more fun. and now that we're done, i'm going to show you tonight: i'm all right, i'm just fine, and you're a tool. so... so what? i am a rockstar. i've got my rock moves. and i don't want you tonight. p!nk is surprisingly therapeutic.

as i rounded the corner, i passed a lady in a light blue tank and sweats walking a large brown dog. her head whipped around to look at me with scorn as i passed. so i backed off on the gas. it's probably not a good idea for retired women with a penchant for punishing reckless driving youths to know my car and where i live.

as the corner straightened out, i slammed on the brakes so hard my ipod flew off my seat and landed on the floor.

at least 10 squirrels.

frolicking on the asphalt.

chasing, ducking, tumbling, chattering (i suppose). playing. gathering. together.

i sat there in my car watching their friendly tag. i realized how much i love boise at this time of year. if i wasn't teaching and had a "real" full-time job, i would have missed this sight. if i wasn't a student of writing, i may not have the right skills to present these miniature experiences so that you, dear reader, might appreciate it too.

oh, autumn. let me fall with you.

whilst most turn to their religious book of choice, i turn to moby-dick.

"Again: as the profound calm which only apparently precedes and prophesies of the storm, is perhaps more awful than the storm itself; for, indeed, the calm is but the wrapper and envelope of the storm; and contains it in itself, as the seemingly harmless rifle holds the fatal powder, and the ball, and the explosion; so the graceful repose of the line, as it silently serpentines about the oarsmen before being brought into actual play-- this is a thing which carries more true terror than any other aspect of this dangerous affair. But why say more? All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters around their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life. And if you be a philosopher, though seated in the whale-boat, you would not at heart feel one whit more of terror, than though seated before your evening fire with a poker, and not a harpoon, by your side."

We try to live honest lives, but like the seamen on the Pequod, death circles us-- often unbeknownst-- like a whirlpool in my coffee cup or a steady wind from the east.

los angeles: the city of traffic, palm trees, mark, and more

listen:
as i pack for my second summer trip--to las vegas (with my bff kim texting me every hour or so asking if i've packed yet... she's been packing for a week now)-- i realized that i didn't blog about my last trip to los angeles. after a tumultuous beginning of summer-- with my teaching/student dilemma, dumb boys, and moving into a new place (complete with my ex-friend-current-roommate-"awkward"'s shrinking my laundry, insulting my family, and telling me to "move the fuck out"... good times!), i really needed a break. i haven't felt this bitter about and spiteful towards people and life in a really long time, so i booked a flight to a city that makes everyone feel like they belong: los angeles. (can you sense the viscosity of sarcasm here?) my friend from junior high, mark, graciously offered to let me visit him and his new residence.

instead of giving you a detailed account of everything that we crammed into 3.5 days, here are some of the highlights:

- i toted kurt vonnegut's breakfast of champions with me to read on the plane, along with 5 fashion magazines. i read vonnegut the entire way there, immersed in the american life of kilgore trout and dwayne hoover. i pondered over words like "legume" and decided i want to start every piece of writing with "listen:" hovering over my prose.

- there are birds in LAX. no joke. chirping birds.

- upon arriving, mark informed me that his place was broken into the night before. the primary suspect is a 10-year-old boy who lives next door. however, little convict-in-training stole mark's keys, including ones to his home and car. that meant:

- going to in-n-out burger was a must before our ride departed. i would marry in-n-out.



- i got my butt kicked at trivial pursuit: dvd edition. it didn't ask me the important stuff: angelina jolie, britney spears, or "america's next top model."

- los angeles zoo! we spent 5.5 hours walking around, eating cold treats, wondering why the wax figurine makers were out of commissions, marking off all the viewed exhibits on the map (i left that up to mark), watching the "world of birds" show, and taking funny pictures like this:


(i love the camel's mouth. it's a black cavernous hole.)

- visiting mark's old seminary school, mostly because he treated me to a wonderful sushi dinner and warm sake in old pasadena:



- experiencing the getty museum: garden tour, bernini exhibit, and soaking in all the wonders of art. at the peru exhibit, a botanist drew a picture of a morning glory and assigned a latin phrase to it (here translating in english): "on the same day brings forth and ends it." beautiful.



- "nothing but beethoven" by the los angeles philharmonic symphony at the hollywood bowl. this was perhaps one of the coolest musical experiences i've ever had. if you look closely, you can see the hollywood sign above the bowl in the hills above it:



- hearing (which i did at venice beach) and seeing (from the getty) the ocean (at the same time) in santa monica:


- realizing that no matter where i go, i still feel so small. the world is such a big place; i'll leave this earth only having come to know a miniscule percentage of all it has to offer:

give me your single and beautiful:

my mother has given me the ultimatum: clean out your room or it all goes in the garbage. while i don't think she would really throw away something as precious as a peacock feather in a squatty purple vase or my portable CD player from 8 years ago (complete with car charger and cassette adapter), i'd rather not take any chances.

while going through boxes and piles of papers, i've found some interesting nuggets of memorabilia, including my senior memoirs from eagle high school. for those of you who are unfamiliar with this tradition, all seniors at ehs were required to keep a notebook (or for the more creatively inclined: scrapbook) of at least 5 key moments per month (plus an "artifact" or graphic) for the duration of our senior year in high school. i assume that the main purpose for this is to reflect over 5 years later and marvel at one's ignorance, pithy adventures, and pre-college lb's.

i came across this entry, however, which is dated march 31, 2003, entitled, "mr. right... i've only begun the search." a picture of a girl holding her heart in her hand with "here" written in a speech bubble graces the upper left hand corner of the pink stationary. i list qualities that i found important in a potentional boyfriend in big blue marker, and my elaboration around these terms (literally, i wrote around these points) made me giggle, tearful, and somewhat disappointed that i no longer hold the guys i date to such rigorous standards. at the beginning of my "memoir," i write: "even though it seems really shallow to create a checklist of qualities (not necessities) i find attractive in a potential husband. . . i did it anyway."

here's the list (in no particular order-- i'll save that for another post):

-intellectual ("to me, someone's mind is much more attractive than physical attributes. a person can change physically in my eyes if i can see their honesty and intellectual abilities in their eyes.")
-understanding ("i can often be very neurotic and comtemplative." i wonder if i meant "contemptuous".)
-amusing ("life would be very boring without jokes." a brilliant statement, if i may say.)
-writer ("people who read and write have the advantage of learning by example through text." i obviously hadn't read moby-dick yet. i also wrote, "the ultimate present is flowers and handwritten note or poem.")
-patient ("awkward silence makes for a rocky relationship." and we all know about my reticence. har. har. har.)
-honest
-realistic
-knows his own heart (this one came from a line in a jewel song: "show me one man who knows his own heart; to him, i shall belong.")
-musical (but right before this, i wrote, "he must be financially stable to support my clothes and shoe fetishes." apparently, i hadn't done my proper research on median incomes for writer/musicians.)
-focused
-charming ("he'd get along with my family and return my desire to pursue life.")

i find it pretty interesting that i didn't really comment on three "qualities": honest, realistic, and focused-- especially because those are probably the 3 most important "qualities" to me now. i think i'd forgo a lying intellectual for an honest c-average guy. and i'd for sure ditch a charming musician for a focused certified public accountant. just saying.

i wonder about the importance of creating a checklist like this; a part of me is rather regretful that i failed my 17-year-old self by pursuing people that exhibited 2 or fewer of these qualities. is it that i have changed perspectives? have i given up on finding someone who possesses these attributes? a combination?

another chapter closed:

since the beginning of june-- june 4 (the day after the rush concert), to be exact-- i have been a professional dog-walker. well, maybe not so "professional," but i am now rather skilled at handling a particular 70+ pound rotweiler puppy named kobe (beef), of whom i have become quite fond. kobe's family is really busy (and 75% of them are vacationing outside the country right now), so i was his creative and physical outlet for the day-- a break from the quiet and boringness of the backyard so that he could have his "visual orgasm" (i'm using kim's term) with a 45-minute daily walk around the neighborhood 6 days a week.

at first, i was really scared. his rawhide bones for chewing were bigger than my forearm. the first day that kim and i practiced walking kobe, he took off after paper products and we ended up mostly yelling at him. so it went for the first few days. he bit my left hand (which gripped the leash about 6" from where it connects to the choke chain collar) several times until it was swollen pink with small dots of blood. i also stunk of dog drool.

one day, we approached a freshly gardened front yard with new flowers and plants in loose dark soil. kobe stopped to smell some small purple flowers, which he quickly uprooted in his mouth. shaking the plant around, i was sprayed with dirt while shouting, "drop it! drop it! drop it!" but it was too late: he ate the flowers. he also likes to eat pine cones.

but it got better. much better, in fact. about two weeks into my dog-walking, i realized the routine we'd established: i park in the driveway (with my music usually blasting), open the garage door (and while it opens, i roll down my car windows-- save for the driver's side one...), and exit my vehicle. everyday, i see kobe's gigantic black nose and two front paws reaching under the wood fence, sniffing and softly whining. i open the side garage door to go into the backyard. kobe sits in front of me. i put on his chain collar, connect the leash, tell him "stay" until i'm through the door (a tip that shows kobe i'm in control and that he cannot run ahead of me), and ask him to "come." then our walk starts.

like clockwork.

for the past month or so, my duties expanded into a professional dog-companion. each day after our walk, i sip on a juice box (provided by kobe's owner) and kobe cools down by laying on the floor while i watch a movie or tv for a while. yes, we hang out.

since june, i've learned many things about kobe, such as:
- even though he looks like a meaner, he's really a big softie inside (i.e. he likes to smell flowers and is scared of loud noises)
- he protects me, as any object moving towards us in a faster-than-normal fashion makes him tense and alert and sometimes he growls
- he hates sprinklers, and he gives me this incredible look of scorn anytime we have to walk through them
- i know every single rock and pole that he will pee on (and trying to get him to stop sometimes means that he will pee on you... trust me)
- if kobe was a human, he would be a bulky 17-year-old boy who listens to loud rock music and rides a crotch rocket
- his most ticklish spot is right on his bark box, and scratching there makes his back foot thump
kobe has become the one thing that i see (and who sees me) on a regular basis these days. but, his family gets back on monday, so kobe will no longer need me to save him from solitary confinement; he will experience sensory overload when two little girls return from vietnam to find their little puppy isn't so little anymore. i am happy that kobe will have someone to play with him all day-- instead of just an afternoon playdate.

but i will miss him and our hang out time. goodbye, kobe koberton. your walk was mine, too.

like a broken record

sometimes i don't think i should be allowed to speak. i know i'm an english major and all, but i seriously lack effective oral communication skills. i've compiled a series of examples to illustrate my main point/thesis:

example A: "two wrongs do not make a right"
i often repeat the same word to achieve a certain emphasis. . . which really only draws attention to my lack of vocabulary, i.e. "sure sure", "like like", "really really", and so on.

example B: "read between the lines"
as a poet, i refrain from asking direct questions without considering that my audience may not fully receive my intentions properly, i.e. "can i help you?" really means "i want to help you. please tell me what to do. and when you deny me, i'm going to get kinda mad because i'm assuming that you just dont want me around and you think i can't help you."

example C: "x to the infinite power"
i say "ok" a lot-- especially at the end of a phone conversation. and i even say it when i don't really mean it (which means this example could fit into the small space between two overlapping circles-- like if A and B were really a venn diagram!). here are some specific scenarios:

the break-up OK:
"we just want different things."
"ok."
"it doesn't mean that i don't think you're a cool chick."
"ok."
"or that you're not beautiful."
"ok."
"i'm just not ready for a relationship right now."
"ok."
"ok?"
"ok."
"good. see you never."
"ok."

the best friend phone call OK:
"don't be depressed, andrea."
"ok."
"have a good day."
"ok."
"i'll talk to you later."
"ok."
"thanks for hanging out."
"ok."
"you'll be ok."
"ok."
"rove you."
"ok."

the i'm-getting-talked-into-something OK:

"trust me that this will all work out."

"ok."

"it will be fun."

"ok."

"i promise."

"ok."

"are we ok?"

"ok."

"i'm about to commit mass genocide on your face."
"ok."
"and then make it look like an accident."
"ok."
"this won't hurt a bit."
"ok."

sometimes i don't think i should be allowed to speak.

welcome back

goodbye, house: your silent floors, your humming boxes of life (stocked with guinea pigs, frogs, and sea monkeys-- separately), your messes which were only mine, your comfy and roomy brown suede couch that was home to my afternoon naps and movie-induced trances (occassionally a purse or two strung about).

goodbye, house: your sunny and spacious skylit bathroom, your cozy robin's nest tucked away under the front porch, your gently sloping yard with verdant lawns, your looming basketball hoop that i tried to avoid backing into (mostly successful). . . goodbye, house: your towering and fragrant basil plants, your childlike swingset that made my feet feel like they could poke a hole in the moon, your abundance of daisies and other colorful flowers that replenish my lungs with crisp oxygen and pollen, your shiny green cherry tomatoes on delicate and prickly vines that scale their white lattices with hopeful vertical energy. . .

welcome back, total. fucking. disaster.

(your days are numbered.)

papa johns pizza

i might have said bad things about papa johns pizza indirectly (like, "they have so many coupons... it must be a cheap pizza for college kids"), but i had it for the first time last night. their pepperoni and black olive pizza amazing. the cheese sticks were okay, but i loaded up on the garlic flavored butter. eat it, people.

put that into your car as you hit the semi.

i've started about 5 different posts and deleted them all, so here's an attempt at turning off the internal editor while still keeping my captive audience in mind:

almost 6 months ago, you may recall a post about my impatience with my own growing complacency. well, i've officially staggered across to the spectrum's opposite end and sit passively in the wake of my newfound spite. let me back up a little.

my life isn't how i thought it would turn out to be. (kim warned me about this: "andrea, don't go all fucking emo on me. if you start writing poems on your shoes, we can't be friends.") i know, i know. your reactions are probably something like:

what do you mean?
you're only 22, andrea. life isn't over yet. *hug*
you. are. so. ridiculous.

over a year ago, i decided to continue my education at boise state by pursuing a degree in english. i love reading. i love talking about reading. i love learning through, about, and around reading. it made perfect sense to join this passion with another degree stating that i do it proficiently.

but it isn't how i thought it would be.

i thought i'd sign up for classes that blended some aspect of my interests and practices with theory and larger connections that only a learned professor could establish for me. i thought i'd cradle a book spine in my hand, actively reading with a pen waiting to touch the page and ask probing literary questions, and explore deep issues of what it means to be human.

let's just say it hasn't exactly worked out that way.

i thought i'd develop an interesting and educational lesson plan with activities and assignments aimed at conveying my enthusiasm for writing to my students. i thought i'd earn some respect for my attempts. i thought i'd look forward to watching my students learn and grow not only as writers but as individuals figuring out their identities and futures during their college years.

major disappointment.

on monday, i started my second summer class about inquiry-based project learning. when i signed up in april, i thought that this class would offer me a strategy for teaching that may increase my love for preparing for class each day and executing my painfully detailed plans. instead, i draw pictures of dead rabbits in my notebook and phrases like, "shut up now" on blank pages.

as i was driving home monday after walking kobe in 6 o' clock traffic, i noticed the semi truck in front of me stopping rather suddenly. i thought about not braking. i thought about the accordian-like crunch of my car, the delicate sprinkling of glass on pavement, the blending of my chipped nail polish and gravel, a slight fluttering of my dress hem next to goose feathers and bumpers. and, hey, i wouldn't have to teach again. i'm not belittling or befriending suicide. i'm just being honest about a thought that cut through my mind like a rampid lawnmower blade.

so, dear readers, i've decided to take action: i'm not teaching next year.

i could potentially go on about other aspect of my life that have fallen through: relationships, living situations, recreational habits... all of which i questioned nearly 6 months ago as well. am i that predictable?

i look like a man. and a white girl. hmm.

my love for netflix

i'm housesitting in eagle this month, and because i know my personality, i quickly predicted that i would become a couch-confined blob eating lots of peant m&m's and occasionally indulging in a crossword puzzle or sudoku from the newspaper. fortunately, that hasn't been the entire case. although, a certain entity has brought me endless happiness:

netflix.

i should preface this post with an interesting andrea fact: my first "real" job was working as a guest service representative at hollywood video in eagle. yes, it's true. i rented nearly 300 movies in a span of 2 years (although in my defense, some of those rentals were video games for my brother or movies for the parental unit). after i stopped working for that lovely corporation and shrugged off my starchy purple shirt and black pants uniform, i became really disgusted with the whole movie-watching process. the thought of immersing myself in an alternate world with fake characters and allowing my body ample time to deposit fat cells on my butt urged me to seek other recreational activities. you know, like myspace.

however, i decided that if i was going to be in a strange house, mostly alone, that i'd give netflix a try. the movies come to me, right? i spent near 45 minutes building a 60+ movie queue last thursday, and i was delighted to find the first 3 movies on my list waiting for me when i arrived at the house on sunday night. talk about fast service.

talk about spending hours on the comfy brown suede couch drunk on bloody marys (and vodka tonics. . . and coke with vanilla vodka. . . and beer, but who's keeping track?!) and laughing hysterically at the unlikely duo of bff's in "superbad" or bawling my eyes out (really. . . i feared for the healthy balance of saline in my eyeballs) to "p.s. i love you"-- SEE THIS, people!-- or scribbling in my notebook with small snippets of information from "what the bleep do we know?"

i mean seriously: talk about it! after i watched the first round of movies, i shared one with my mom and then sent the other two away. two days later, more are in the mailbox. it's like christmas/birthday/a hot first date combined. i've watched 5 movies in 5 days. it's incredible.

"lars and the real girl" is coming tomorrow. i can't wait.

why i love ferrets:

Well, it's been an interesting month so far! To think that 22 days ago I was celebrating Kim's birthday at P.F. Changs boggles my mind.

Several dozens of pages later (including not one. . . not two. . . not three. . . but four essays for my grad classes, including an essay on one of my essays!) and several dozens of hours later (from reading 102 portfolios), I finished off my Spring 2008 semester at Amy's combined birthday-bachelorette party. We ate at P.F. Changs (I'm becoming a regular), and then went dancing and drinking at Hannah's. Yes, you read that right! I was getting my groove on.

But I can't escape school that easily. . . the next morning bright and early at 8:30, I had school. It was the first meeting before my summer school class starts in June. School has consumed so many hours of my life (waking and non-waking). I truly thank the people I work with for putting up with my office complaints, attempts at humor, and my Clorox wipe obsession. You can also view my old school computer in my office. What you can't see, though, is an autographed picture of Britney Spears hanging in my cubicle. It's glossy and totally photocopied =)

On Saturday, I watched my best friend Kim graduate (along with others like a roomie, Brett, and various peeps from Eagle) from BSU. I'm so proud of them all!

As if all this wasn't enough, Yann and his girlfriend Alexis came to Boise for the weekend. It was great to see Yann again, and his taste in girls has significantly improved since high school.
This weekend is Amy's wedding, and then I'll be moving temporary to Eagle to housesit for the month of June. I'm super excited about it. I hope you're enjoying your summer vacations too!

a few of my favorite things. . .

in no particular order. do you feel the same?

pretty pink orchids:


the ocean:



a sweet fruity drink:



call me emo. . . but i am so in love with this dude:

(he makes my heart sing sweet melodies like a caged canary sitting in front a pink rhinestone mirror.)

i also love deep fried freedom sticks:

embarassing pictures of my high school self:

the thrill of upside-down roller coasters:

elliot, my doggie baby:

taking random blurry pictures for myspace (my hands shake sometimes):

lipgloss wars:


waking up each day ready to take on the world (meaning, of course, my insular life as a grad student breathing in words of dead authors and exhaling words of writing wisdom to metaphorically deaf and literally ungrateful freshmen):

excelsior, dear readers.

some advice...

this morning when i was shaving in the shower, my razor slipped and left a perfectly vertical cut with a little slice of skin hanging off the red and puffy incision. . . inside the foldy skin of my armpit. ouch. so armpit shavers of the world, hold tight to that handle. i beg you.

update on the cruellest month....

i think t.s. eliot was on to something when he called april the cruellest month. i just want it to be may. . . or more specifically, june. is it too much to ask for a time warp? sheesh.

so, my life has been rather weird lately. not necessarily weird in a bad way-- just weird. i think this may have something to do with four weeks (ok, five including spring break but sort of excluding spring break) straight of presentations for my 3 grad classes. on top of that, i read and "evaluated" 47 unit projects, read an entire hawthorne romance, and a bunch of other miscellaneous items. as well, my hair is grossly long and i'm in desperate need of a haircut.

i've started going to the gym (today breaks my five day gym streak), and i realized what a wimp i am. my back has been hurting from muscle strain, but today when i was getting into the shower, i noticed a really yucky yellowish purple bruise on my shoulder blades, which is from a machine that works my lower back. as well, i have a weird bruise on my right forearm from hitting the doorknob in my room. i installed a coat rack on the wall behind my door (it's the only place where i can hang my coats), but then it fell, and then i hung it back up again. my door doesn't open all the way now, and i've become a creature of habit and still walk through the doorway as if the door was open all the way. . . hence the weird bruise on my forearm. go figure.

yesterday, i babysat for my favorite family in eagle, the brandecker's. i've been babysitting for their 3 great kids for about six years now, and i've had the joy of watching the children grow up into teenagers. (yes, the oldest is now a teenager!) so yesterday, the girls informed me of a father-daughter dance at their church, and the middle child who is the oldest girl decided to model her new dress that she got for the dance. she ran upstairs in great excitement to put it on and show me. she ran back downstairs, yelling, "andrea, will you tie this for me?" when she got downstairs, my eyes welled with tears at the sight of this beautiful girl in a pretty, flowy white halter sundress with blue dots and a sash around the waist. her white sandals with little rhinestones along the strap over her foot completed this very cute-- and very grown up-- look. i tied her sash. she asked me if i liked her dress, and i told her it was absolutely beautiful. and then i felt very sad inside. when did she grow up? when will it stop? (for the record, her younger sister playfully crinkled her face and said, "yuck. you look like gross." =)

tonight i went to the final moveable feast of the academic year. it was great-- great food, great book, great people. maybe i fit in with these literary folk. just maybe. this entire m.a. program has me seriously doubting whether i'm competitive enough, intellectual enough, motivated enough, and just enough of enough to get through it.

this has quickly become an emo post. i will stop now. before i end it, i bid you adieu and hope you're having a wonderful weekend.

new hairstyle?

dearest friends,

i'm thinking about perming my hair. thoughts?

i particularly like this picture. . . with the loose waves. i wonder if my hair could handle it. anyway, weigh in. s'il vous plait.
merci beaucoup.

tagged

i've been tagged by becca! (if that isn't passive voice, i don't know what is.) while i shudder to think how online tagging may negatively influence the up-coming generation of already nonathletic children, i will post this survey and pass on the tagging:

What were you doing ten years ago?
ten years ago, i was 12 and attended oakdale jr high. i was a good student, liked to read (although i have to admit that most of my recreational reading was limited to r.l. stine's "fear street" series and christopher pike's horror fiction), pine for dumb scrawny boys, and i was obsessed with hanson. i had just started listening to mainstream music a year or so prior to junior high, and i was intrigued with the song-writing process. about this time, i started writing song lyrics; a few months later in my 8th grade english class, i wrote my first poem. i would like to think that i was misunderstood and overlooked by my generation, but we all know that i was painfully dorky and had little to no fashion sense (although i had just gotten by braces off at this point!). my vision was terrible, but i refused to wear glasses on the account of physicalizing my nerdiness. oh, and i had basically the same hairstyle, as shown with the picture below:


What were you doing five years ago?on march 15, 2003, i was looking forward to graduating from high school. my nerdiness had only somewhat subsided (yes, i belonged to National Honor Society. . . back off), but i was no longer blind (i started wearing contacts when I was 15), was no longer a candidate for "what not to wear," and was no longer living in california. five years ago, my typical lunch menu was coffee, soda + candy, or nachos.
Five things on my to-do list today:1. shop for groceries. (my love affair with pushing a cart through winco ended weeks ago. i'm so ready for free grocery day.)
2. collect sources for my hawthorne paper that's due on tuesday.
3. watch "rendition" that was indirectly recommended to me by ENGL 588's class blog (creeeepy).
4. wash jeans.
5. repaint my fingernails. black nail polish looks pretty emo when chipped.
What snacks I enjoy:
well, since this isn't limited to a certain number of items, i could potentially go on for quite some time. i love snacks. however, i MOST enjoy sweets such as: gummi worms, twizzlers, skittles (the kind in the blue package), and good n plenty. i also really like apple slices with peanut butter, popcorn, and baby carrots with ranch dressing.
What would I do if I suddenly became a billionaire?
buy a house on the beach so i could wake up to this each morning:
oh, and buy a ferret. or ten.

Three bad habits:
1. procrastination.
2. picking my cuticles. (gross, i know.)
3. spending waaay too much time online.
Five places I've lived:
1. south korea (i hail from the orient)
2. ventura, california
3. roseville, california
4. oakdale, california
5. eagle, idaho
Five jobs I've had:
1. babysitter
2. guest service rep for hollywood video
3. shift leader at hollywood video
4. nanny
5. roving clerical asst at mrici
Five things you don't know about me:1. i saw the cutest zebra print coat at tj maxx and am contemplating if i have $39.99 (plus tax) to purchase it.
2. i am not a very good tipper at restaurants unless the service is awesome. yes, spit in my food now.
3. i take children's multivitamins. they are cheaper and taste a whole lot better. plus, they come in cool shapes like monkeys and lions.
4. i've cried over an "america's next top model" episode.
5. i'm seriously considering getting a perm.
I tag. . .anyone who reads this: alexandria, mango sugar, anna, and arijaan.

spring break plans.

i wanna go somewhere. . . and considering that i probably can't go to iraq to see zach, i'm guessing that something more domestic is on the drawing board. suggestions, anyone?

and people say dogs are easier than kids.

today was a rather odd day: i spent time thinking up a fun way to demonstrate effective opinion-building with my students (including finding support in both personal experiences and factual evidence), but the activity kinda flopped because i asked them to do it in silence. i guess that's what happens when you try to contain freshmen. . . failed activities. it's ok; i'm still learning.

anyway, so i got back to the house and talked to my roommate for a little bit about school. then i walked into my room so that i could change out of my black slacks and sweater and into something more comfortable (like cotton pants with small little riley-dogs on them). i unzipped my boots and threw them into my shoe box (i still haven't gotten a shoe rack yet); then i walked around the end of my bed and opened my closet.

i realized my sock was wet.

and that the bottom of my foot was warm.

yes, you probably guessed it: it stepped in kota barf. seriously. it was still all chunky and warm, which means it was very fresh.

and my reaction, you ask? i just started laughing and pulled off my sock. then i told heather and she cleaned it up. luckily the barf was on the wood floor and not on my new black shaggy rugs. but still. kota barf. at least she feels comfortable enough to just let it all out. literally.

room pics and other stuff.

Even though the room isn't finished, I still thought I'd post some pics. This first picture is the view when you walk into the room (that's the wood door on the left-hand side). You can't see them, but I have two black shaggy rugs on the floor to help cover some of the wood flooring. You also can't see the black iron curtain rod above the windows, but it's pretty cool. Obviously, the curtains aren't in yet-- but soon, hopefully.

Moving on. . . the picture above is of my desk (obviously) and a really cool spiral candle votive holder. I saved up some summer babysitting money to buy that from Pottery Barn a few years ago. The cool hanging thing in the corner is from a souvenir shop in Sonora, California. Then, the picture below is of my new bedspread and some random wall art. You can't see it, but I have a four-shelf bookshelf at the foot of my bed.

The only wall I didn't take a picture of is just my closet with sliding mirror doors; it's on the same wall as my door.

Here's Kota! (I thought her name was "Coda," but I was wrong. . . it's pronounced the same.) She's cute. I wasn't too sure about her at first, but she's definitely a great dog and keeps me company when the roommates are busy-- which is most of the time.

I thought I'd tell you this random story: I decided to stop on my way home from school to buy some salad, milk, sugar, baking soda, and frozen veggies for the Quick and Easy Chicken Pot Pie-- recipe courtesy of Arijaan and Bisquick-- at Albertsons on Beacon, which is pretty close to school. I walked through the store to collect all the food, stopping every once in a while to ponder if I need granola bars or tube biscuits (ultimately deciding to skip over those). Then, I get to the checkout lanes and opt for self-checkout. I punched in my preferred card number, and start scanning. After I finished, the nice lady in the machine tells me, "Proceed to checkout." I pushed the button on the screen with one hand and dug for my wallet with the other hand. I find my cell phone, a pen, some saltine crackers. . . no wallet. I opened my bag as beads of sweat start forming on my forehead. . . no wallet. I started freaking out.

And then it hit me: my wallet was in my sweatshirt pocket. And my sweatshirt pocket is next to my bed at home.

So, I did the forehead slap, deep sigh, and pushed the button to cancel all groceries. I looked around to tell someone about my blunder, but see no one in sight. I exit Albertsons.

The end of the story is that I retrieved my wallet and went back to a different Albertsons, cooked a yummy pot pie without the chicken, and now I need to work on some homework.

update on andrea's life as of late.

well, i am almost all moved in to my new location in boise! all my furniture is here, save for the occassional misplaced item (like getting a new shoe rack. . . the one i have is 2" too long for my closet) and getting some curtains and a bedskirt. my domestic mother has volunteered to make me both of those items out of the same fabric to tie the room together.

so, i painted the walls a really energetic, vibrant red: bougainvilla, named after a pretty flowering plant. the walls are about the color of the deepest red in this picture:the trim is white, and i've decorated primarily in white and black. both roommates have commented that this is the best this room has looked. . . quite a tribute to my interior decorating skills. don't worry; pictures to come later when i have curtains! =)

i officially moved in on thursday last week, and then i spent the next 33 hours grading papers, making a late night run to wendy's to grab a grilled chicken sandwich and some mountain dew (mostly, this was inspired by a massive panic attack after i couldn't find the coffee machine) doing homework, shopping for the medieval feast, going to class, loading my stomach up on red bull, holding office hours, teaching, and driving home-- only to collapse on my bed and awaken to my roommate babytalking to the house dog, coda. she's an akita. i'm a big fan.

this weekend was much better and restful. the one thing that i definitely have to start getting used to: eating dinner alone. this sounds kind of silly, but i am used to preparing dinner with my mother-- and occassionally, my father-- and then enjoying our meal together as a family. i never ate dinner alone prior to living here! however, i am determined to cook for myself and not let idaho pizza company do my cooking for me. perhaps i should create a "college student singles dinner club" or something similar, eh?

thoughts on a wednesday morning

bear with me: it's been a very long day/ morning, and i've decided to blog about it in a very montaigne-esque fashion. as of late, i have been struck with the overwhelming desire for change-- in so many areas of my life. i am incredibly annoyed with myself for becoming so complacent and comfortable with just about everything (from school to relationships to living arrangements); can i just pack up and flee to the woods for a week? pull a dave chappelle and roam around africa for a little while and clear my mind? transform into bruce almighty for a second so that he can use his godly powers to read and respond to the ever-growing mound of student papers on my desk? sprout some biceps like popeye on spinach to help me lift boxes of books, my tv, etc. that i've neatly packed for moving? (i'll let that image of me trying to commune with rhinos marinate for a sec.)

seriously, where are some gummi worms when i need them?

ok, so i'm being sort of whiny. (i told you this was inspired by montaigne, right?) perhaps i should follow becca's example and blog about things that i love-- being that it's february and all. well, right now i love blogger.com because it is awake and available to hear me out. thanks, blogger, i appreciate you.

moving out.

dearest faithful blog readers,

as most of you know, i am moving out of my cozy purple room on wind weaver and headed towards boise-- with some clothing in tow (unfortunately, it appears that 75% of my precious garments will remain in eagle, eagerly awaiting the day i pluck them from my closet and whisk them away in my arms to a newfound closet space). i am very excited about this new opportunity to live with two of the most free-spirited, laid-back basketball fans i've ever met.

despite my enthusiasm, there are several things about home sweet home that i will dearly miss. for example, fresh-baked homemade bread on the weekends. and my doggies (i've already tried to convince my parents to let me bring along elliot... unfortunately, no such luck). and having my entire 60-something pairs of shoes at my disposal. oh, and free rent-- i couldn't possibly forget that.

pray hard, dear friends, that this was indeed a wise decision and that i will embark on a favorable and fun journey into the land of roommates (including one very large and very hairy akita named coda).

onwards,
andrea

the world will never ever be the same.... and you're to blame.

It's been almost two weeks (in about seven more hours) since I said goodbye to dear Zachary, and I can't help but miss him terribly. He called me today from Iraq for the first time since he's been gone. . . the sound of his voice was so welcoming after a really long day at school and a painfully slow and slippery drive home from my night class. I miss him and can't wait for June. Until then. . .

Music blog

Go to the music player of your choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud and press play. Use the song titles as your answers. NO CHEATING!

How does the world see me?
Song: Cause = Time
Artist: Broken Social Scene
Comments: Mathematical equations confuse me. Alas, I shall reign solitary with my liberal arts education.

Will I have a happy life?
Song: We Still Kill the Old Way
Artist: Lostprophets
Comments: Perhaps?

What do my friends really think of me?
Song: She is Beautiful
Artist: Andrew W.K.
Comments: Suh-weet!

Do people secretly lust after me?
Song: Love Shack
Artist: B-52's
Comments: Hmm. . . maybe it's the Melville obsession that turns heads?

How can I make myself happy?
Song: The World I Know
Artist: Collective Soul
Comments: Remember, we are in the world but not of the world. Thank you, Anne Bradstreet.

What should I do with my life?
Song: Singing in my Sleep
Artist: Semisonic
Comments: See! I should spend the majority of my time unconscious!

What will fill my life?
Song: Champagne Supernova
Artist: Oasis
Comments: I'm OK with that.

How can I maximize my happiness?
Song: Shadow
Artist: Ashlee Simpson (no, I'm not ashamed that she's on my ipod!)
Comments: I think this goes along with the whole sleep thing. And besides, Emerson's light metaphors and Thoreau's symbolic awakeness get kinda old after a while.

What will my children be like?
Song: Pretty Handsome Awkward
Artist: Taking Back Sunday
Comments: Fair enough. (See, Becca, your children will be Gap-poster cute and mine will thrive on awkward moments. . . )

How will I die?
Song: Black Letter Day
Artist: The Cardigans
Comments: Surrounded by newsprint? I can deal with that.

What is some good advice for me?
Song: Cardiff-by-the-sea
Artist: The Ataris
Comments: Are you saying I need to get out more?

What is happiness?
Song: The Widow's Peak
Artist: Dashboard Confessional
Comments: Nothing makes me happier than dreaming about a new hairline.

What is one of my obsessions?
Song: Foolish Games
Artist: Jewel
Comments: Oh, please, that is so high school-- unless you count 'games' in some sort of Scattegories-esque manner.

How will I be remembered?
Song: Goodbye to You (Acoustic)
Artist: Michelle Branch
Comments: At least someone will be around to say goodbye!

Any advice for the time-being?
Song: Over You
Artist: Chris Daughtry
Comments: Oh, ipod Nano, how I love you so.

(P.S.: Pray that the folllowing semester engulfs me in fascinating literature and provides some more clarity about my future so that I will no longer post such ridiculous blog entries. Thanks for reading!)

winter wonderland

Even though I like Boise, the weather stinks. I am a California girl at heart-- a true valley girl who prefers sunshine, beaches, and orchards over ice, snow, and frigid winds (yes, I said "frigid"). However, with harsh winter comes great freedoms (do you like the 'Spiderman' speech imitation??? I truly am an English major), which delight me thoroughly-- so much so that I've created a Top 10 list for Winter Break:

1. Sleeping in. Ev-er-y day.

2. Learning to sew on the sewing machine. My first project was fleece cage accessories for my favorite ferret at EFS, Five:

I hand-delivered the hammock, floor pad, and sleep sack. Not to sound conceited or anything, but he (and his cagemate Cracker) loved them.

3. Getting my hair cut. I opted for a long-layered shaggy look a la Trish in "The 40-Year Old Virgin."

3 1/2. Taking random pictures of my new haircut and imagining that I could totally rock a body perm:

4. Ringing in the new year with Brett. We made margaritas, watched "The Pursuit of Happyness," played video games, and caught the last three seconds of the ball dropping in NYC:

5. Meeting friends for some quality pig-out time, like Anna and Christy, at Cafe Ole; Amy at Moxie Java; and the Melville Edition interns at Bittercreek Alehouse (Becca, you're next!).

6. Wimping out on driving anywhere in the snow. As the Zamzow's radio commercial warns, "Don't get overly confident if you have four-wheel drive." I'll just over-exaggerate that statement and claim little to no confidence with driving on any road conditions other than "dry."

7. Reading. I actually have time to read recreational literature! I finished "The Nanny Diaries," "The Virgin Blue" by Tracy Chevalier, half of Barbara Kingsolver's "Prodigal Summer" (I'm forcing myself to give it a chance-- slow going!), half of "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller (I need time to let his words marinate between readings), random Walt Whitman poems, and I reread "Choke" by Chuck Palahniuk before giving it to Zach...

8. ... which brings me to my next favorite thing about Winter Break: hanging out with Zachary who is on R&R from his tour in Iraq (he goes back to work on the 18th).

We always have a blast when we're together:

And another for good measure:

9. Watching endless hours of dumb television, including (but not limited to) America's Next Top Model marathons, Project Runway reruns, What Not To Wear, Rachael Ray, and most anything on E! After break, I'll bulk up on some intellectual reading material-- don't worry.

10. Mostly, I love break because it reminds me of how much I enjoy my life. Can school last forever? Can I get paid to go to school for the rest of my life? I really don't mind, as long as I have a few respites every once in a while.

Hope you're having a fun new year as well.