Things being a teacher taught me about being a student.

I'm one semester back into academic pursuits, and I have to be honest. It's hard. But I feel like I'm a much better student than I've ever been before. Some of that I feel like I owe to the fact that I spent 3 years on the other side of higher education, trudging through the trenches of freshmen composition. Now being back to the studious side, I've been thinking a lot about how being a teacher for 3 years has influenced my behavior/beliefs/feelings about being a student.

1. There is a point to that assignment, even if you don't think there is. Sometimes, instructors will assign what students think of as "busy work", when in fact, there is actually a point to it. Just because it's not immediately apparent to a student doesn't mean there isn't a valuable lesson or important information to be gleaned from it.

2. Packing up your bag a leaving while someone is still talking is about the rudest thing in the world. I have to admit, I was guilty of this. As soon as it seemed like a class was starting to wrap up, I would start putting away my books and notebooks, put my jacket on, whatever. When one person does it, it's not so bad. When one person starts to do it and then 20-30 other people do too, it's deafening. It's even worse even people start standing up and pushing it chairs or heading to the door. SIT YOUR ASS DOWN. You can leave when the instructor says you can leave.

2.5 Instructors need to do their damnedest to get students out on time. I know 50 minutes can be a super short time period. It can seem almost negligible when an instructor is covering something really important. However, instructors need to be aware that students often have things scheduled back to back, and that 10 minutes between classes is needed to get from one side of campus to another for class, work, meeting, etc. So if I get up after you've already gone 10 minutes past the designated end time, it's not because you're not interesting. It's because I need to be in a meeting pretty much now.

3. If an instructor gives you the option of turning an assignment in early and getting feedback before submitting a final draft, DO IT. If you don't, you're a moron. Your instructor is offering to take very valuable time out of his/her day to read and respond to your work. To tell you exactly where your project/paper does not meet the assignment requirements, where you can improve, or if they're looking for something else. Why would you not do this? It just boggles my mind. The instructor is basically saying, "Turn something in and I'll tell you how to get an A." If you don't do this, and then complain later about not understanding why you got the grade you did, you're an even bigger moron than I thought.

4. In the classroom, the instructor's word is law. You don't always have to like what your teachers tell you to do. But you still have to do it. Their classroom, their rules. Don't like it? Drop the class. Can't drop the course? Suck it up and start acting like the adult you're supposed to be.

5. As hard as it can be sometimes, you need to be patient waiting for graded assignments to come back (unless it's completely unreasonable. It was not uncommon when I was teaching for me to hear students ask the class period after they turned in a major assignment if I'd finished grading them yet. Um. NO. Grading is hard work. And if an instructor does it right, it takes time. Especially with major assignments, or subjective assignments like writing or reports, where there aren't necessarily "right" answers. I always tried to get papers turned back to students within one week of submission. But when you're teaching 4 classes, of 20 students each, and they all turn in 10 page papers on one day? That's a lot of grading. And you can only grade so much in one day before you have to stop or risk doing a disservice to your student or being unfair. So yes, as students we are eager to get our grades back, especially at the end of a term. And as teachers, we're eager to give them back. (Trust me. The thought of dragging grading out longer than necessary is torturous.)

6. It's alright to ask for clarification of why you received a certain grade on an assignment or for the course. It is not alright to be a whiny little bitch. Sometimes, instructors make calculation errors. Sometimes, they overlook things. And sometimes, a grade gets entered incorrectly. Sometimes though, you're wrong, and you did deserve the grade you got, and you'll have to accept that. If you go talk to an instructor about a grade concern you should address as simply that: A concern about your grade. Not a You-Better-Give-Me-The-Grade-I-Want regardless of whether you've earned it. I know from my own experience that after a conversation with a student during which there has not been a mistake or misunderstanding but the student simply earned a poor grade, but the student came to me calmly, discussed the problem openly and without assigning blame or being a drama queen, I am often much more willing to work with said student to allow him/her to redo the assignment, do a make-up assignment, or something else to allow the student to recoup some of the lost points. But if you go into an instructor's office, guns blazing, screaming and pissed and acting like a petty, entitled little prick: Good luck getting that instructor to ever, EVER be willing to work with you again. EVER. You'd better hope you don't have to have that instructor in class again. Because he/she will remember you.

7. Most instructors really do want to facilitate your learning process, so if they ask for your input on any part of the classroom experience, they really do want it. I used to do this in some ways. I taught writing, and as part of the writing process, for every major essay, students' papers went through a peer review process. At the beginning of the semster I would often do an informal discussion about their peer review experiences in the past. What did they like/dislike? What kind of peer review had they tried (verbal, written, group, anonymous, etc.)? I would take their responses and experience in to account, and try to do a variety of types to include ones that have worked well for a majority of the class or ones they had not been exposed to before. But guess what? If you don't answer the question, then your preferences don't matter. Generally, your instructors want you to succeed, and they want to do whatever they can, in and outside the classroom, to get you where you want to be. Be willing to collaborate a little to get yourself there.

Man I'm on a roll. This blog could probably go on forever, because there are so many things I really should have known when I was doing my BA (and to some extent, my MA). But it's getting late and this is already pretty long. So TBC, maybe. G'night folks. Happy studying for those in or getting ready for finals. And happy grading for those of you about to collect 80-120 papers in one week. Cheers!

Why am I still awake at this hour? Because I'm poor 24/7.

I realize it's been quite a while since I last posted. Honestly, I haven't got a whole lot to say now. It's 3:23 AM here in Chambana, and I am still at work. Yep. An overnight shift until 4 AM. Oh, the fun of grad school.

Classes will be winding down in the next 2 weeks. I am about halfway done with my final 2 projects, and I have one final exam next week. This semester feels like it has flown by. I'm ready for Christmas and to spend a whole month with the hubby and the dog all under one roof.

Would you believe that at 3:25 AM, there are still people in the library studying? That's dedication. It's amazing. Sure, compared the size of the undergraduate population here (about 30,000), there is an abysmally small percentage still here. But the fact remains that there are people here, still checking out reserve movies, laptops, and headphones. Pulling an all-nighter. I don't think I ever did that once as an undergrad or as a grad the first time around. Crazy people. I freakin' love sleeping way too much. But I suppose when the offer to pay you $20 an hour to work an overnight supervision shift, money talks. And hear I am, listening to the sounds of shifting in the library at 3:30 AM.

There's not a lot of excitement in my life to share with anyone who actually visits this site. My bro got married. My BFF is getting married. My dog still occasionally craps in the house. What can I say? I lead an exciting life. Maybe once the semester ends, I can concentrate some time on deeper thoughts and write some blogs with substance. Maybe I'll just write blogs about how much I love unicorns and rainbows. Either way, it's probably going to be entertaining to me. Maybe not so much to the rest of you.

I'm going to go swig some caffeine before I can't even make the walk to my car in half an hour.

Things I really, really want to eat.

Living in Champaign is pretty sweet, to be honest. I love being at the University, and I love the town. It's small, but big enough. The only problem? When the hubby and I divvied up the small appliances, I had to make some sacrifices. So, just to give myself an outlet, here are some things I haven't eaten in 2 months because I lack the necessary equipment, the money to go out to eat, and the funds to purchase the needed appliances:

1. waffles (no waffle iron)
2. onion rings (no fryer)
3. hamburgers (no grill, even a Foreman, and I don't want to bake them in the oven)
4. microwave dinners (no microwave. And I am not baking them in the oven for 45 minutes)
5. limited leftovers (Why is it so hard to reheat meatloaf?)

So pity me, friends, as I haven't had a waffle in 2 months. And I love waffles. I'd almost buy a waffle iron over a microwave right now because someone on the radio was talking about waffles earlier, and it damn neared caused a car accident. Maybe I need to suck it up and go to IHOP. Maybe my hubby needs to make me breakfast in bed the next time I'm home. Maybe both? Yeah. Both sounds good.

Enjoy your small appliances, friends. You'll never realize how much you use them until can't.

Banned Books Week: Harry Potter

It should come as no shock that Harry Potter has been challenged in the years following the original publication of the first novels, and even more as subsequent novels were published. Nor should it come as a shock that it is one my favorite reads of all time. And if any of my friends who read this blog haven't read Harry Potter, then maybe we need to rethink our friendship.

Most of my friends know that one of the worst things they can do is get me started on Harry Potter, because I love it So. Damn. Much. There is just so much about these novels that is amazing. I really can't get started because I'll never stop. One thing that never ceases to amaze me is how complete a world J.K. Rowling created; the world she created and the detail she's considered about things that never even appear in the novel. If you don't believe me, check out the Harry Potter Lexicon.

In the years that the novels were challenged, the largest voice has come from Christian parents who feel that the books promote occultism and paganism. The concerns aren't unfounded. Harry Potter exists in a world where wizards can do things that, in Christianity, only God and Jesus can. However, as I said with Call of Wild, the responsibility of educating children about the relationship between fiction and real-life is the responsibility of the parents and care-givers.

I will always love Harry Potter. I don't even know how many times I've read through the entire series or watched all the movies. And yes, sometimes I troll fan sites because I just need HP fix. So if you haven't read the series, please, for love of Merlin, do. They're nothing short of epic.

Banned Books Week: The Call of the Wild

I realize it's been a long time since I've updated, and it's a shame. I really intended to write more now that I'm back in school and not working 3 jobs. But alas, graduate school and one job are keeping me pretty busy. However, I do have a mission this week: It's Banned Books Week! BBW celebrates the freedom to read, and the freedom for anyone to access any book, any time, any where. As a future librarian, I am dedicated to the freedom of information, and strongly opposed to the censorship of information by one group of people, for another group of people. So this week, I'm going to try to post several times with bits of goodness about some of my favorite books that have been banned or challenged in the world.

To kick off my BBW extravaganza, I'm celebrating one of my favorite authors, Jack London. His novel, The Call of the Wild. As one of Jack London's most popular works, and as one of the most-read books in the world, it's hard to imagine that people have tried to censor it. But it's actually on ALA's list of commonly challenged classics, at #33 of 100, in fact.

The reasons for the challenge are easy enough to see: scenes of violence and cruelty. In fact, some people have tried to ban the novel because they felt that London's depiction of the treatment of dogs in the Yukon int he 19th century was promoting or condoning animal cruelty. However, London was simply writing about what he knew. He spent almost a year in the north, living in the towns that built up around the hubs of the gold rush, and he remembered what he saw. Abuse of dogs was not uncommon at that place and time, so his depiction of the violence and cruelty that the dogs, especially his main character, Buck, are treated with is not inaccurate. It is likely that the challenge to the violent imagery is because people often think of London's novel as a chidren's book because it does have a dog as it's main character, when in reality, its themes deal with adult ideas and feelings.

The most challenges to London's work were from European regimes. It was burned in Nazi Germany, and Italy and Yugoslavia banned it for being too radical.

If you have never read The Call of the Wild, I would strongly recommend it to anyone, adult or teenager. It would probably not be best for a young child, because of the violence, although I believe I was fairly young when I read it. As always, the decision of whether or not something appropriate for a child depends on the person's maturity, and if the parents are able to help the child understand the more adult aspects of the work. The story is the narrative of Buck, a dog stolen and sold into the harsh work of a sled dog in the Yukon. He is sold from master to master, and at times subjected to a variety of mistreatment, until he comes under the care of John Thorton, who develops a bond with Buck the dog has never experienced, having never been treated with such kindness. I won't tell you more, or spoil the ending. The novel deals with several different themes, like survival, redemption, and loyalty between dogs and their masters.

So go read. If not this, then try something else from ALA's 100 most challenged books. Take this week as opportunity that for the large majority of us, we have been given the ability and opportunity
to read. Celebrate that freedom.

http://www.ala.org/advocacy/banned/frequentlychallenged/challengedbydecade

Yes, I'm a twenty-something woman who has never ridden a public bus.

Changes have finally happened upon me. For the last year, you've listened to me talk about "when I go back to grad school . . . ." Well, here I am. This past weekend my husband and family helped me move to my new town. Got me settled in my new apartment. Today the hubby and I darted around campus, taking care of paper work and other such necessities.

So far things are going okay, but I haven't really started anything yet. It's different living in an apartment complex. I never have before. It feels a bit like staying in a hotel long term. Every now and then, I can hear the neighbor down the hall closing her door. Or the neighbors below me or in the hall way talking. It's nothing too disturbing, and truthfully, if I could get used to living with the constant, too-near train whistles while in my second college town, I can get used to people closing doors a little too hard to talking a little too loudly. In general, I like the apartment. Lots of space--almost too much--but it's nice to not feel cramped on top of my possessions.

As for the town, I'm still getting to know it, but I have successfully navigated myself to my place of work, the grocery store, Walmart, and several eateries. I'm sure I'll be fine. The next step is mastering the bus system. Never used public buses before, so that will likely be one of the coolest things I learn. I'm pretty excited about, really. The buses run every where here. They can take me from home to work, class, the store, dinner, anywhere! (For my ice cream friends, they can even take me to Cold Stone! SCORE!) Once I get them figured out, I'm sure I'll be just buzzing around like a little bee. The husband has promised to ride with me a couple times this week to get me comfortable with proper bus procedures.

I'm still a little nervous/anxious about starting classes and work. I haven't purchased my textbooks yet, so I can't comment on whether or not I'm going to feel completely overwhelmed by the course work, but I have started on the the reading list for my job--yes, there is a reading list for my job. And guess what? It's 26 articles! 26! And some of them are 30-50 pages each. You'd think I was a graduate student in a very prestigious program or something. Sheeesh.

That's all my updates for now. As things start happening next week, I'll try to post regularly about my adventures. After all, this is the largest University I've ever attended, the first time really living as a stand-alone adult, and a new chapter in my twenties. Bring it!

Sleeplessness

It's almost 12:30 AM here in the Midwest, and I'm not sleeping. Why? I'm not sure. I was tired, I went to bed. I reclined there for over an hour before I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere, and decided to get up and do something, in hopes that it would tire me out. I guess we'll see.

It is now almost the end of May, and in 2 months, I'll be packing my belongings and moving 3 hours away from my husband. All will not be roses and sunshine, but I imagine we'll make it through. I'll be there for 18 months. Whether or not he moves after the next academic year is yet to be determined. For now, I'm just trying to enjoy having him around, we're looking for his new apartment, and otherwise getting me ready to go back to school. I've registered for classes, signed an apartment lease, and accepted and assistantship with the University. I'm pretty well set, with the exception of actually physically relocating and then purchasing my books.

I'm so ready to be going back to school. So ready for the last 3 very difficult years of my life to be over. Even though the 'mart and I have had a love-hate relationship, I know for a fact there will be things I miss. Like a several of the employees I've gotten to know well, especially the girls that work in softlines with me. Two or three of them have promised to road trip to visit me, though, if I promised to take them to Cold Stone Creamery when they come (which, gosh, was a hard thing to promise). But other than the people, there's not much I'll mourn about my adventures in retail.

As far as leaving the town I'm in--that will be quite the adjustment. I'm leaving not just my husband, but my parents and younger brothers, some friends. I like this town. I always have. Even growing up when most people hated the small-town, not-much-to-do atmosphere, I still had a soft spot for it. It's such a great place to live. It's small enough that you can let your kids walk home without worry, or play in the street (in some cases). But it also has a lot of the things bigger cities have to offer: movies, theatre, sports, festivals, music. Sure, we move a little slower here, but the pace suits me just fine. I think the one reason I'm reluctant to leave is because I'm not certain I'll ever move back to this area. That will be hard. I've spent the majority of my life here.

But if staying here means staying in 3 part-time jobs, still barely able to make ends meet, well, it's not worth it to me. Change will be good. Change will also be hard. Here's hoping I'm built strong enough to handle it.

The internet: not the liberating force we imagined?

            In my writing classes, I hope to challenge my students to critically consider the topics we discuss, and learn to see themselves as capable of expressing intelligent, informed ideas on them. In truth, this does not always happen, but I can hope. Sometimes I wonder if the topics I present them with are too difficult—and then I remind myself that they’ll learn more from the challenge. Recently I’ve been thinking about tackling the writing assignments I give them myself. For lack of less-compelling things to right about (Kmart is so boring right now), I’ve decided I’ll start tonight.

            The first essay assignment was this: Read an excerpt from S. Craig Watkins’ book, The Young and the Digital. From there, identify an issue, formulate an opinion on the topic, locate a second source, and draft an APA-style essay that accomplishes 3 goals: summarizes each article, rhetorically analyzes the pieces side-by-side to identify similarities and differences, and draws conclusions about the topic from the research.

            I’m not going to do the assignment in its entirety.  I don’t have the time right now to locate another source on a topic. Instead, I’m going to look at the gist of the argument Watkins presents and offer discussion.

            The excerpt that we read was, I believe, from the introduction to the book. One key thing to note about this book is that is was published in 2009, with much of the research Watkins and his assistants conducted taking place in 2007. This is significant because Watkins discusses social networking sites, specifically considering Myspace and Facebook. Before I discuss the relevancy of his information, though, it would be helpful to first explain his premise.

            Using several examples, the most memorable being that of a cartoon drawing of a dog, Watkins seeks to call in to question many people’s belief that online social networking has changed the way people interact socially—specifically that it removes racial, economic, and geographic barriers. He argues against those that would say that sites like Facebook and Myspace have made the world less segregated, mainly challenging the belief that by interacting over a computer screen, people are less likely to discriminate in ways we have in the past. In fact, he even goes so far as to suggest that Facebook (more so than Myspace) actually creates more fractured communities than before. Because it is easier to ignore or dismiss a profile than a real person, our online interaction in some case may be, in fact, more segregated that our real-life lives.

            Watkins makes a fairly compelling argument, with much of his information coming from surveys he both conducts and cites. He interviews the people who use social networking the most: college-aged kids. The problem I see with his research, at least from the small excerpt we read, is that his sources are largely homogenous. Only rarely does he cite the opinion of a non-white, non-college student. Or at least, if he does, he does not clarify the person’s demographics.

            After reading the essay, many of my students—from several different countries, ethnicities, and socio-economic backgrounds—vehemently disagreed with him.

            Things like, “Of course he’s wrong. I can be friends with whoever I want on Facebook. It’s easier to get to know all different kinds of people online,” were common reactions. To this, I would respond, “Of course you can. No one is saying that you can’t. What Watkins is saying is that you don’t.”

            Again, many students vocally disagreed: “That’s not true,” they would argue. “I’m white, but I have black friends on Facebook,” or vice versa. Again, I respond, “I’m sure you do. But how many people are you friends with on Facebook are people you would not have befriended in real life?”

            Because in essence, race and other factors stripped away, that is what Watkins argues: We still only befriend those online that we would normally befriend in real life. Which in most cases happens to be people who bear significant similarities to ourselves (such as race, class, location).

            You may remember that earlier I mentioned that Watkins’ book was published in 2009, and much of his research conducted in 2007. I bring this up again because as an academic and an avid social network user, I question whether the data he would collect now would corroborate his earlier studies. As an optimist, I want to believe that things have changed. That his argument that Facebook is only for the college-enrolled is outdated because Facebook, now, is open to the public, where it had not been when he was doing his original research. But now, perhaps, that the demographic has been allowed to shift, it has. But even if more people are on the site, and the type of user has diversified, I wonder if his claims about who we choose to socialize with online have changed. Even though there is a larger diversity of people, are we still largely socializing with a restricted type of people? I’d be interested to see if more recent research has been conducted on the topic, and whether it supports or contradicts Watkins.

            I, personally, am a bit ashamed by the poor diversity of my friends list. Mostly friends from college a few from high school, coworkers, and family. Not many people that I wouldn’t have come across in my everyday life. And without knowing specifics, I would imagine that many of them share a similar background with me: white, middle-class, college-educated, Midwestern. There are exceptions of course, but shockingly few of them. Just from my own personal experience, it is possible that Watkins’ argument would hold today. Perhaps the internet, and social networks, are not the barrier-eliminators many want to believe they are.

Good news. FINALLY!

I finally have something other than my-life-sucks-stories to share with anyone who actually still reads this. I applied this past fall/winter to graduate programs in Library Science. I applied 3 places: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign (#1 program in the country), University of Washington Seattle (#4), and Indiana University (#7). After taking the GRE and epically failing the math section, I sent in my apps and have been waiting patiently (read: sarcasm) since December to hear.

I heard from IU first, and was accepted! Woot! I knew I was going to go back, because at least one place wanted me. I got in touch with my friend who is out there now and we're having a weekend visit.

The second school I heard from was U of I. Imagine my shock when the first line of the email said, "Congratulations!" Followed by telling me how amazing I am, that they couldn't possibly let me study any where else, etc. No. Truthfully, it was some boring mumbo-jumbo like "we're recommending your admission to the graduate college." But whatevs. I'm going back to graduate school, and I may just be going to the NUMBER ONE PROGRAM IN THE COUNTRY. Boo-yah!

Take that Kmart shoppers. Bluelight special in aisle 3: YOU CAN KISS MY ASS GOODBYE.

(I feel like it's a good thing I write sad, introspective posts more often than happy ones. This? Right up there? That's terrible writing. It's all over the place and doesn't really say anything. Yep. This just proves my theory right. I write best when I'm pissed off or crying my eyes out.)

[But really, Kmart shoppers. Kiss it.]

Oh, the wanderings of my bored, tired mind.

Yet again, it has been far too long since I updated. There isn't a lot to say about my life anymore. My weeks blur together. I get up 3 days a week and teach class. I work every other weekend at KMart. And I occasionally throw in another day or two during the week. When it's all said and done, I'm boring and predictable.

Beginning at the end of this month, I should start to hear back from grad programs for the fall. The husband and I are still discussing what our move will be when the time comes to make the decision. At best, I'll be 3.5 hours from my current town, at worst, 29 hours. The hubby is reluctant to leave the job he has now if I go to one of the schools that is within the 3.5-6 hour driving distance. He's not particularly attached to the job, its simply that he is a field where jobs can be hard to come by, and walking away from a perfectly good one that offers security, benefits, retirement, and more experience in his field is a lot to give up. Obviously, though, if the chosen school is 29 hours away, we're both packing our bags.

The most frustrating thing about this situation is that I keep trying to get him to actually sit down and talk with me, and he'll talk for less than 10 minutes and then say something like, "I need to think about this." And then when I bring it up a few days or a week later, he "hasn't really thought about it," and we end up saying the same things over and over again.

For me, this is a simple decision. Assume that I choose to go to one of the closer schools. Either we live separately for 2 years, or he goes with me. Weigh the pros and cons. When he thinks about leaving the job he is in, he can't conceive of it. So when I tell him then, that we should just plan on living separately at least for one year, he freaks out about not wanting to do that either. I just want to look at him and say, "Man up, my friend." You're going to have to make the decision sooner or later. I'd prefer sooner, because in about a month, I'm going to start looking for housing. And at that point, I'm going to need to know if I'm looking for housing for one or two.

I'm sure in the end, it will all work out. Then I'll just be left praying that I made the right decision at all. No pressure, though.

Let's talk about sex.

Warning: Adult Content (not that this whole blog isn't adult content, but thought I'd issue fair warning).


I was reading some crappy article earlier today, and one of the comments on the article made me laugh out loud, so I had to share it. This is what he said [I assume the poster is male]:

"isnt the real issue here the fact that cosmo has been using some variation of that "his best sex ever" headline FOR EVERY SINGLE ISSUE for like the past decade. it baffles me what they could be pawning off as sex advice. to all you ladies, your man is not that complicated. his junk is not some sort of rubik's cube."

I barked out a laugh, and wished the hubby was home so that I could share that little morsel with him. Because, really, isn't it just completely true? It just highlights, for me, how different men's and women's mindsets are. Sex isn't that much of a mystery. It's definitely not something that should require a mathematical algorithm to accomplish. Sex is sex. Insert Tab A into Slot B. They've put it on tshirts. Watch the Discovery Channel. Truly. Though to be fair, I'm not really a fetish kind of girl, and if you throw that kind of stuff in, I'd probably need a user's manual. I'm a meat-and-potatoes kind of girl.

I look at a piece of sexy lingerie, and I think about how hot it would be to wear it for my husband. He looks at it, and all he sees are straps, buckles, and small pieces of fabric that stand between him and what he really wants. It's not just being poor that prevents me from purchasing sexy little things to wear to bed. It's also the fact that when I have worn lingerie in the past, he just looks at me like, "Why are wasting my time by putting on clothing, when the goal is to take it off?"

Granted, I will not argue that my husband (nor my) mindset is the norm for men and women of are age. Not being a sociologist or conducted any kind of legitimate research, I can only speak from personal experience. But my personal experience is being a tomboy who grew up with a "manly-man" father, four brothers, in a neighborhood without any girls my own age. I relate far better to, and think far more like, the men of my acquaintance that the women. So it probably stands to  reason that when it comes to sex, I tend to think more like a man than a woman.

Sexy lingerie? What's the point?

When I read or hear friends talk about spending hours having sex, my first thought is: Really? What the hell is there to do that takes hours? I get it, I do. Foreplay, different positions, etc. But hours? Seriously? I guess I'm just a wham, bam, thank you ma'am kind of girl.

I'm not opposed, either, to trying to new things. But when adding things in to the mix that make the act more about properly executing a tricky maneuver and less about being 100% there, in that moment, with the person you're with, count me out.

Question, though. If women think men's manly parts are a Rubik's cube, then what does that make women's? (Being, truthfully, the infinitely more complicated anatomy.)

How do you measure a year?

One of the most helpless feelings in the world has got to be looking at where you were one year ago, and realizing that despite the best intentions, you are still in the same, mediocre spot as you were last year. This time last year, I was preparing to say goodbye to KMart, moving into to several part-time teaching positions, and looking forward to a less frustrating new year.

This year, I'm back working at KMart, and looking forward to something, anything, changing for the better this year. It could be a good year--I've applied to go back to school, so I may be moving to another part of the country in 7 months. Regardless of whether that happens, something has got to give. I'm going to make a change. I've got to get out of how my life is now. I'm sick of struggling to pay bills, fighting to stay afloat every month, and feeling like I've failed myself because I'm not using my 6 years of schooling to do something more than get continually frustrated by the customers at KMart.

I'm not going to spend a whole lot of time reflecting on the last year. If you're reading this, you've probably been along with me for a lot of it. Teaching, living, learning. That's what it's all about. I'm trying to learn to enjoy my life as it exists right now. Some days are harder than others. But hopefully this year, I'll live and learn (but no Luvs--so not ready for babies).

Seriously, I'm about to go off on this.

I've been reading all these articles lately about how employees of some retail chains are ticked off because of  the new Black Friday hours being implemented this year. Walmart is starting its Black Friday at 10PM on Thanksgiving--not really a big deal, because 99% of Walmarts in this country are open 24 hours anyway.

However, a lot of other stores are now getting in on the "open the earliest" action and many, like Best Buy and Target, are opening their Black Friday doors at midnight. There's been this big to-do all over the internet about employees and customers alike throwing their arms up in resistance. Apparently, in order for these stores to open, many of the employees have to report to work on Thanksgiving by 11 or even 10 PM. So they're pissed.

You know what's pissing me off? All these people bitching that they have to go in at 11:00 at night on Thanksgiving. That it's ruining their holiday, taking them away from family on a day that should be about family, not shopping. Well, kiss my behind Target and Best Buy employees.

Kmart is open ALL DAY on Thanksgiving. It opens at 6 AM. Yeah, that's right. For the last 3 years, I've been doing a juggling act hoping to get to see my family AT ALL on Thanksgiving, and now you're making front page news because you might have to leave early in the afternoon to catch some sleep before your shift? Go fly a kite.

And to hear the customers complaining? Blow me. The stores wouldn't open early at all if there weren't going to be people there to fill them. Do you think Kmart is empty on Thanksgiving day? Hell no. There is a line outside of the store at 4 AM waiting for the doors to open, people rush in just like they do on Friday to get deals. And then it's busy all day long. So, you think it's terrible that these other companies are making their employees come in to work AFTER they've been able to spend the entire day with their families, eat a good meal, and even get to take a turkey-induced afternoon nap? You know how I spent my Thanksgiving my first year at Kmart? In the break room with a plastic to-go container from the nearby grocery store with leftover turkey, green been casserole, and mashed potatoes, while my husband was able to go visit his family. There are men and women who have worked their lives in retail who NEVER have gotten to spend the day with their families, or least not in years.

So spare me the petition, Target employee. Be happy you have the day to see your loved ones. I'll be at Kmart at 7 AM, helping the people who won't be shopping in your store.

I'd like my romance novel without the side of freaky-as-hell vampire porn, thanks.

I've started reading this new series on my Kindle: The Black Dagger Brotherhood. I went searching for fantasy novels with a side of romance, and popped up. It's a vampire series about a group of male vamps who fight against the "Lessening Society" who is bent on destroying the vampire race. They stories also follow the storylines of their love lives.

When I downloaded the first book, I was excited. I wanted to read the storyline of the war between the vamps and the "lessers" as they are called. And that plot is in there, but it takes a very, very small backseat to the love stories. I confess myself disappointed.

I like romance novels, don't get me wrong. I am a girl. I like cheesy, dramatic lines delivered by men unlike anyone you'll ever meet in real life. But these books simultaneously suck me in (to the plot about the lessers and the plot of the romance) and repulse me by the overwhelming amount of, and unbelievable nature of, sex.

It seems like the more fantasy romance novels I read, the more I am convinced that romance writers only use the fantasy backdrop to create obnoxiously unbelievable heroes and borderline pornography. Seriously. There is a group of like, six, of these guys and they're all the studliest, super-hung, amazing physical specimens that break women into drooling piles of quivering nerves. In the second book, the main vamp character is named Rhage (yes, that right, Rhage. With an H.). He has this curse that when he suffers intense pain, or anger, or apparently sexual attraction, he transforms into a scaly, dragon-like beast. Well, of course the romance part of the novel has to allow for the woman he loves to either accept or reject "his beast" as the writer has termed it. Oh, not only does she accept it as part of him, she lets it come out while they're doing it.

I'm sorry, what? This female character has just be re-diagnosed with leukemia and she decides she'd loved to have sex with a dragon? Wow.

I do not defend romance as a genre as being anywhere near a higher class of literature. It's entertaining smut, truthfully. They're formulaic and use very little imagination and don't exactly bring the human condition into sharp perspective. But writers like Nicholas Sparks manage to write beautiful love stories, have a little fade to black when the nooky starts happening, and I devour the books. Fantasy romance, in my opinion ranks even lower that just straight romance novels, and that's saying something.

This "Black Dagger Brotherhood" series, though. I'm on book three and I might just have to stop after this. I like the plot of the war and restoration of the vampire race, but I just don't know if I want to continue to wade through all the crap to get there. And frankly, some of its grossing me out.

Metal and stone

The theme yesterday on the 10th anniversary of 9/11/01 seemed to be, "Where were you?" and, "How has your life changed as a result?"

Well, at the risk of being boring and redundant, I'm going to spend a few minutes reflecting.

9/11 wasn't just a tragic event. It is my generation's Pearl Harbor, Kennedy assassination. It was the moment of a young life that will forever be etched into one's mind. It will be the marker by which a life is measured: before the Twin Towers fell and after.

Before I never had a reason to feel anything but secure in a country that boasted bravery and freedom. Battles that spilled blood onto American soil were left to the history texts; things like that didn't happen in our world. In our safe, modern, free world.

Until an airplane struck a tower of metal and stone in a city so far away yet too near to my tiny Midwestern town. I, like most everybody, heard about the first impact and thought, "How does someone crash into a skyscraper?" It never entered my mind that someone would do it on purpose. Until the second plane hit. And then the third. And then the fourth one went down in a field outside of a town smaller than my own.

I was in class when another faculty member rushed in and told us to turn on the tv, then left immediately to tell the next class. But after the first impact, there seemed to exist and unspoken agreement between the teachers and the students. The class material was irrelevant. The television in each classroom stayed on. The classes without tvs poured into rooms that had them. Few spoke. The halls were as silent as they are in the dead of night, when no one is around to hear the creaking of the old lockers. Faculty, staff, and students watched in rapt attention and horror as a plane struck the second tower, and still when the pillars that guarded New York's skyline fell crumbling, reminding us that our mark on this Earth will never be as permanent as we think it will be.

Would it be so unreasonable to believe that until that day, I'd never even heard of the World Trade Center? I knew nothing about it. Back in a town entrenched on the Mississippi River, things that happened in New York City were foreign and exotic. As a 16-year-old girl, my life seemed filled with my own immediate surroundings.

Classes got out early, parents in a panic to pick up their children and get them home. Home, into more buildings made of stone and metal that no longer felt as safe as they always had. Dinner was eaten in front of the tv that night. Whatever was in the house that could be made into a sandwich was, and we watched as the country tried to make sense of what had happened. Tried to understand that there were people in this world who would kill mothers, fathers, children, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and friends because they didn't like the way those people lived their lives. Because they had been born on a particular piece of earth.

Before 9/11/01 my world was very small. After, my world became too big. Things like "terrorist alert levels" became common in news broadcasts. Grief struck so many, but remained alien to me, a young girl who didn't understand.  I could no longer believe that the American Dream was something that everybody wanted, but had to realize it was also something that some wanted to destroy. That were people in this world who had a capacity for the kind of evil and hatred that kills innocent men, women, and children.

I knew nobody in the Twin Towers that day. I'm not even sure if I knew anyone who lived in New York at that time. But my world shifted, just like everybody else. As a child, it was the moment when I had to confront the real world. It was thrust into my consciousness by crumbling steel and concrete.

We all watched in horror that day. The horror still feels fresh today. I hope that there will not be a day when those of us who were watching will become numb to the tragedy of what occurred. Because that will mean that we have started to forget. To forget what it felt like to watch people just like us--who got up in the morning, went to school or work, and never knew they wouldn't come home again--forget what it felt like to watch their lives stolen. The absolute, astonishing horror of watching life being extinguished on live television, as we stood by helplessly.

I will not pretend to know what those families live through every day. 9/11 happened to all of us, but it mostly happened to them. It happened to someone whose life was probably exactly like my own, only in a different place. All because she happened to be born on a particular piece of earth.

It will always be a defining moment in my life because it didn't happen to me, but it did happen to me, too, and I will never forget.

Sometimes, it's all a matter of perspective.

I know that I've ranted about having to work at KMart and all the crazy and stressful things that have happened to me while there. But a friend of my shared this link on facebook, and it made me so, so happy that I worked at KMart.

Man with Exposed Erection Arrested Outside of Walmart

Addition to the previous post:

I forgot to mention these in my previous posting:




Yes, everyone, that's correct. We now carry socks designed to be worn with flip flops.
















Is there no shame anymore?

Deep Thoughts from KMart

Deep thoughts from today's shift of freight at KMart:


You make think you've seen ugly purses, but I present to you the Ugliest Purse Ever:


And it comes in black, silver, and pink in addition to giant-purple-people-eater.












You know that saying, "Don't count your chickens before they hatch"? Well, I'm tweaking that for KMart freight: "Don't hatch your rubber duckies before you count them." We got in BOXES of rubber duckies for infants. I took them out of the boxes, and threw the boxes out before counting them. And I had to count them to put them on locator in our stockroom. There were approximately this many:



(In actuality, there were 300. 100 per box. So I didn't have to count after the first 100, once I figured out how many were in each bag that was inside the boxes. But can you imagine counting 100 rubber duckies by hand? Just try. It's not fun.)

And of course, there were the incredibly smart people who thought they could get away with swapping a UPC for a $7.99 car accessory for a $50 motorcycle battery and the cashier wouldn't notice it. And it left me doing this:














Goodnight folks. May tomorrow bring shenanigans for you to enjoy.

Let it be.

People are sometimes so predictable and benign that it's funny. Like those that come into KMart. Sure, I complain about stupidity and rudeness, but honestly, most of the people I've written about on here are completely harmless. They just think that some of life's tiniest road bumps are huge obstacles; and no one taught them to control their anger (it was probably indulged by bad parenting) or to treat everyone with respect.

Other times, people surprise me. Some are humbling surprises of the wealth of kindness that can be found in the world. When I read about people putting their lives in danger to save a loved one, or this kid who who gives to those he knows need it more. There is a remarkable amount of goodness in the world, the problem is that usually, the bad gets more attention.

Take the Westboro Baptist Church. They're coming to my state this week, to Springfield, IL, to be exact, to protest in the capital. Their website says they are protesting at the capital because of the attempts of the state of Illinois to block their right to protest, and they're also apparently protesting at some KISS concert because KISS fans don't like them either. Well, frankly, trying to block their protesting may be one thing that the state of Illinois actually did RIGHT, and this may be the one thing I have in common with KISS fans. Go figure. I, quite honestly, have a few dogs in this fight. They protest military funerals. My Grandfather was in the Navy, my brother is in the Army. They hate Jews. My brother, sister-in-law, and her family are Jewish. They hate homosexuals. I have quite a few gay friends. So when people hate my people, I get angry.

I'd never been to their website before I saw one of my friends commenting on a Facebook event trying to rally people to go protest their protest. So I thought I'd check it out, and while it did make me angry, oh did it light a fire under my ass, it also made me so sad for those people. Not the ones being protested, but the protesters. How terrible must it be to live with so much hatred in your heart? They hate law makers, they hate this country for "allowing" homosexuality, they hate other religions, they hate, it seems, everything. And I feel bad for them, because they'll never really know love or happiness, because they will spend their whole lives following others they hate around a land they hate, trying to spread hate.

I'm not an expert on religion. I haven't read the Bible cover to cover (I'm a bad Catholic, what can I say?) but I do know that the message I've been taught since I was little was a message of love, not hate. There are all sorts of places in the Bible, Old and New Testament alike, where the words are ambiguous, sometimes even seeming to advocate anger, hatred, and violence, like the famous, "I come not to bring peace, but a sword."

I could go on and on about places in the Bible where Jesus talks about loving one another, and suspending judgement of your fellow man, but I won't. Because I think this even goes outside of religion. People who aren't religious get fired up about these folks, so it's not just religious sensibilities that they're offending. Even were I not religious (and my level varies from day to day, truthfully), I would still be angered and saddened by this group of people. Who are they hurting but themselves? If we all just ignored them, maybe even gave them pity (because let's face it, they're pathetic), maybe they'd go away. They want people to get angry. They want us to stomp and tirade against them, becuase they see that as their message being clear, inciting a response, and being broadcast even further by the enraged. So maybe we should just stop giving them lip service and start ignoring their hate-filled asses. If they've got no one left to preach to, their existence becomes meaningless. You cannot fight fire with fire, after all. That only creates more of the same. You have to pour out the flames with cold water. So fight hatred with indifference. It's difficult to keep fighting with people who have no interest in a fight. Try hating someone who not only doesn't hate you back, but has no investment whatsoever in your hatred. It's hard, if not impossible, to sustain.

How about some fries with that shake?

How many people reading this have visited a Steak n' Shake at least once? I assume that most people have, some of you probably with me at least once. In case you haven't, or you're just not aware, when one goes to Steak n' Shake, their bills come pre-split (in a way). It lists what each "seat" ordered, the total for that seat, and then the total for the entire party. It's nice, because it makes it SO easy to split a bill. No trying to remember what each person's meal cost, no trying to factor out tax so that someone doesn't grossly over or under pay. It's simple. But apparently, it's only simple for the customers.

A friend was in town last week, and we went to Steak n' Shake. We both got the same meal, except I had a milkshake and she had something else that wasn't a milkshake (was it water? tea? She reads this, so she may remember). Moving on. When the bill came, it listed each seat total, with one saying "double with cheese" and "cookies and cream shake" and the other saying "double with cheese" and "something not a shake".

(A short aside: the waitress brought my milkshake out AFTER our meals had arrived. She actually came over after we'd been waiting over 15 minutes for our food--which I'm not opposed to in a restaurant where they're actually out killing your steakburger when your order comes in. Anyway, she comes out to ask if she can refill our drinks and apologize for the wait for our meals. When she asks, "Can I get you a refill?" I tried to politely respond, "No, but you can get me my shake." Yeah, the food came within 5 minutes, and my shake arrived a little after that. I get annoyed when I go places and my appetizer isn't served prior to my main course. Imagine my displeasure that my beverage arrived post-first-bite of the burger. Not. Okay.

And now back to our feature presentation . . .)

So my friend and I go to pay our bills. I hand the cashier the check, tell her we need to split the bill, and I'm paying for the double meal and the shake. She punches approximately 26 buttons and tells me my total is $3 something. I must have given her a stupid look, because she mumbled something about a milkshake. I corrected her, again politely, that I'm not just paying for a shake (Seriously? Why would my friend come in and eat TWO of the same meals, while I sipped on my late-shake?). She gets all freaked out because she already split the bill and doesn't know how to un-split it. After calling for someone to help her and while having to wait for that person, I tell her just to ring up the whole bill. The meal was $4, so friendly and I just decide to trade cash, and I'll just swipe my debit card for the whole thing. This is, apparently, just as complicated as splitting it. It takes another 3-4 minutes before the bill is put back together, my card swiped, and the transaction finished.

And for the grand finale, she doesn't tell me until AFTER the whole incident is finished and the transaction complete that the receipt printer ran out of tape, she didn't know how to refill it, and wants to know if it's okay if I don't get a receipt, because she can't reprint it if I do. A little late, don't you think?

I guess I can't blame some of the people who come into the 'mart and assume I'm not firing on all pistons. Look at their reference points.