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!