I did a very bad thing. I threw my body clock all out of whack. I made the mistake of allowing myself to sleep from midnight on Friday until noon on Saturday. When I got in bed on Saturday night, I ended up reading until 5 a.m. on Sunday. The sun was coming up. Well, the sun was up. The sun had started coming up at around 4. So, I slept until 1 today instead of another 12 hours. Perhaps we can do it tonight...and by "do it," I mean go to sleep at a normal hour.
It's a beautiful day in Pilsen today. It is in the low 70s, high 60s, with a nice breeze. I had a brisk walk through town, some Risotto at the corner pizza parlor, and then I stopped by a corner store to buy some milk for my coffee, but ended up with yogurt. You know, same old, same old.
One of my favorite things about cities in Europe are the little dogs everywhere. It can be a bit difficult, though. I hate having to run into an animal without being able to touch it. I saw a dead hedgehog on the side of the rode today...didn't touch it though. At first I thought it was a porcupine, but those have really long needles. Wasn't there a porcupine in Ol' Yeller? I seem to remember one.
It amazes me how much emotion being back in Europe is causing me. It all reminds me of my time in London, of my previous times here. I'm kind of lonely and stuck with these thoughts. The restaurant right down the street from the dorms has closed, so I can't count on running into people lounging on the patio in the afternoon. My room mate, while nice and talkative, doesn't seem too interested in hanging out with me. She seems like she would be burdened by hanging out with me, like she's worried she'd be waiting around a lot...but I walk way faster than her...so...maybe that's it. I don't know. Not like the old days. I'm sure it will get better once school starts, but I'm currently having trouble connecting with people.
Hopefully my next post will be a little less...blue-ish?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
In Czech
I've brought my laptop to Europe, and I can't seem to get the internet set up in my place of residence. It is infuriating. I am at a coffee shop about to break a 1000 kc note for a coffee that is going to cost me around 30 kc, and I'm sure the server is going to rue the day that I walked through the door. The Czechs hate, HATE, making change. Of course....that's all the damn ATM will give me, so...whatareyagonnado?
The weather here is cool, chilly at night, and clear. I forgot how quiet it is before school starts. I also forgot how rich the food is. I had pizza for lunch today with about two blocks of cheese melted on top. Last night, I ordered a specialty at a restaurant, and ended up with about 50 pounds of potato, meat, gravy, and vegetables...as well as two beers. I ate until I was satisfied and still had about 45 pounds of food left on my plate. The server was aghast.
By the time I made it to bed last night, I was hanging by a thread. I had been walking around Prague all day...with slow walkers...after maybe six and a half hours of broken sleep while sitting up on a plane. I took a nap on the bus from Prague to Pilsen as well. Nothin beats waking up with that horrible pain in your neck from sitting up and snoozing. I lay awake in my bed for a moment, and then disappeared from existence for almost 12 hours.
To tell the truth, the shower in the sink doesn't really bother me as much as it did before. The smell of the room is nostalgic. I woke up to the sound of tennis balls bouncing on the court across the street.
I missed the walking tour this afternoon, for the third time in a row. I always intend to go, and I always end up missing it...so I have to give myself a walking tour. I'm sure I'm missing some secret amazing thing by not participating in the guided tour.
Europe reminds me of England...or of Europe...or maybe it all just runs together. There is something similar about the whole...experience?
The weather here is cool, chilly at night, and clear. I forgot how quiet it is before school starts. I also forgot how rich the food is. I had pizza for lunch today with about two blocks of cheese melted on top. Last night, I ordered a specialty at a restaurant, and ended up with about 50 pounds of potato, meat, gravy, and vegetables...as well as two beers. I ate until I was satisfied and still had about 45 pounds of food left on my plate. The server was aghast.
By the time I made it to bed last night, I was hanging by a thread. I had been walking around Prague all day...with slow walkers...after maybe six and a half hours of broken sleep while sitting up on a plane. I took a nap on the bus from Prague to Pilsen as well. Nothin beats waking up with that horrible pain in your neck from sitting up and snoozing. I lay awake in my bed for a moment, and then disappeared from existence for almost 12 hours.
To tell the truth, the shower in the sink doesn't really bother me as much as it did before. The smell of the room is nostalgic. I woke up to the sound of tennis balls bouncing on the court across the street.
I missed the walking tour this afternoon, for the third time in a row. I always intend to go, and I always end up missing it...so I have to give myself a walking tour. I'm sure I'm missing some secret amazing thing by not participating in the guided tour.
Europe reminds me of England...or of Europe...or maybe it all just runs together. There is something similar about the whole...experience?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Brave New World
Bon jour mes amies. I'm sure if you didn't know before, you know by now: I have moved to Dahlonega, GA. I now live in a small town in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. I suppose I must have been here for a little over a month now. It's surprising. I have never pictured myself much of a small town girl, and I'm not sure I do now. I feel a little like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, but it's not terrible. It's interesting, exciting even.
I have spent the past four weeks falling over myself to unpack, fighting off insects numbering close to the population of the citizens of greater Memphis, struggling to get out of bed, and eventually domesticating myself for the time being. I do have a job in which I work in an organic garden, but, as we are in the middle of the heat of the summer, the only work to be done is work that I am unable to do: drive a tractor. Don't get me wrong, I would KILL to be able to drive a tractor, but it's easier to get people with a great deal more experience than I to do it while I read books on companion planting, fighting off pests and disease, and what to plant when.
I made a quick trip to the mid-west to reconnect with some of my family and bid one member goodbye.
I rarely have to stop at stoplights on my journey's into town. There are very few in the city, and none outside of it, where I live in a little cabin on a creek, shaded by a cave of trees.
I have also been exploring the world of shade loving plants.
My cats are in love with this place. What is it inside of us that causes us to become so attached to our pets? I find myself so enamored with my pets that my heart floods with joy when I see them lounging in the sun, in their element, at peace with nature. Am I crazy? The only thing they don't like is when I cross the creek to the island on the other side. They refuse to brave the very shallow waters of the creek, and when I skip across on stones and climb up the bank to enjoy the small patch of blue sky that peeks through the ceiling of the woods, they sit on the opposite bank, crying for me to come back, confused.
I am sure that someday soon I will experience some sort of neurological damage from the amount of insect repellent that I blanket my skin with. Ticks make up the other half of the insect population that aren't moths. They are rude, blood-sucking, and hard to kill. I have only found three on myself, hopefully due to my wholeheartedly clinging to the "myth" that consuming large amounts of garlic will put the insects off.
As far as domestication goes, I have made this house somewhat of a home, with an inviting, huge back porch, complete with shade loving flowers, color-coded recycling bins, a number of chairs, a pre-existing hammock, and colorful Christmas lights. I have explored the world of "daylight" lightbulbs in order to beat the one tragic flaw in my house: very few windows allowing very little natural light in. It's okay. I should be outside anyway. I live in the country.
I have spent the past four weeks falling over myself to unpack, fighting off insects numbering close to the population of the citizens of greater Memphis, struggling to get out of bed, and eventually domesticating myself for the time being. I do have a job in which I work in an organic garden, but, as we are in the middle of the heat of the summer, the only work to be done is work that I am unable to do: drive a tractor. Don't get me wrong, I would KILL to be able to drive a tractor, but it's easier to get people with a great deal more experience than I to do it while I read books on companion planting, fighting off pests and disease, and what to plant when.
I made a quick trip to the mid-west to reconnect with some of my family and bid one member goodbye.
I rarely have to stop at stoplights on my journey's into town. There are very few in the city, and none outside of it, where I live in a little cabin on a creek, shaded by a cave of trees.
I have also been exploring the world of shade loving plants.
My cats are in love with this place. What is it inside of us that causes us to become so attached to our pets? I find myself so enamored with my pets that my heart floods with joy when I see them lounging in the sun, in their element, at peace with nature. Am I crazy? The only thing they don't like is when I cross the creek to the island on the other side. They refuse to brave the very shallow waters of the creek, and when I skip across on stones and climb up the bank to enjoy the small patch of blue sky that peeks through the ceiling of the woods, they sit on the opposite bank, crying for me to come back, confused.
I am sure that someday soon I will experience some sort of neurological damage from the amount of insect repellent that I blanket my skin with. Ticks make up the other half of the insect population that aren't moths. They are rude, blood-sucking, and hard to kill. I have only found three on myself, hopefully due to my wholeheartedly clinging to the "myth" that consuming large amounts of garlic will put the insects off.
As far as domestication goes, I have made this house somewhat of a home, with an inviting, huge back porch, complete with shade loving flowers, color-coded recycling bins, a number of chairs, a pre-existing hammock, and colorful Christmas lights. I have explored the world of "daylight" lightbulbs in order to beat the one tragic flaw in my house: very few windows allowing very little natural light in. It's okay. I should be outside anyway. I live in the country.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I Like It; Yes, I Do
After years of telling students, "Don't use the semi-colon. You don't know how, and I don't think it's really that necessary," I have finally decided that I actually DO find a semi-colon, now and then, a little bit necessary. The thing is, I just didn't understand how to use them. That was an okay excuse for a while, but my students soon began to pester me. "Semi-colons are going out of style" simply wasn't enough to keep them from wanting to use them; thus, I had to learn the usage and merit of the semi-colon.
I had cleverly fashioned my policy regarding this mark of punctuation after taking a class with Dr. Nasheeb Shaheen, who said, more than once, "A semi-colon is a weak period," in his characteristic drone. That was enough for me to decide that, in addition to the fact that I didn't really know how to use one anyway, the semicolon needed to be absent from my writing life.
However, it kept coming back, poking its nose into my business, rearing its ugly head. Too often I marked in bright purple ink (I refuse to use red when grading papers) "DON'T USE SEMICOLONS," on a student's work; too often I repeated the narrative of my time with Dr. Shaheen to students that asked how to use a semi-colon. The Guardian even published an article on the fate of this grammatical tool: The End of the Line?
I finally had to relent; my clever avoidance of the issue was not sufficient. I have slowly begun to explore the world of the semi-colon. I have dipped my toes into the waters of punctuating creative expression. I have opened my heart to the frontier.
As some woman I read about said:
Sadly, anyone lazily looking for an excuse not to master the colon and semicolon can always locate a respectable reason, because so many are advanced. Here are some of the most common:
1. They are old-fashioned.
2. They are middle-class.
3. They are optional.
4. They are mysteriously connected to pausing.
5. They are dangerously addictive ...
6. The difference between them is too negligible to be grasped by the brain of man.
Lynne Truss
Hey lady: Don't use a comma with "because" unless the dependent clause comes at the beginning of the sentence. Gees.
I had cleverly fashioned my policy regarding this mark of punctuation after taking a class with Dr. Nasheeb Shaheen, who said, more than once, "A semi-colon is a weak period," in his characteristic drone. That was enough for me to decide that, in addition to the fact that I didn't really know how to use one anyway, the semicolon needed to be absent from my writing life.
However, it kept coming back, poking its nose into my business, rearing its ugly head. Too often I marked in bright purple ink (I refuse to use red when grading papers) "DON'T USE SEMICOLONS," on a student's work; too often I repeated the narrative of my time with Dr. Shaheen to students that asked how to use a semi-colon. The Guardian even published an article on the fate of this grammatical tool: The End of the Line?
I finally had to relent; my clever avoidance of the issue was not sufficient. I have slowly begun to explore the world of the semi-colon. I have dipped my toes into the waters of punctuating creative expression. I have opened my heart to the frontier.
As some woman I read about said:
Sadly, anyone lazily looking for an excuse not to master the colon and semicolon can always locate a respectable reason, because so many are advanced. Here are some of the most common:
1. They are old-fashioned.
2. They are middle-class.
3. They are optional.
4. They are mysteriously connected to pausing.
5. They are dangerously addictive ...
6. The difference between them is too negligible to be grasped by the brain of man.
Lynne Truss
Hey lady: Don't use a comma with "because" unless the dependent clause comes at the beginning of the sentence. Gees.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Here is Something That I Have Been Thinking About
I was on Central yesterday, stopped at a red light at East Parkway, and there were kids with orange warning cones, a white piece of poster board with "North Memphis Tigers Football" scribbled on it with a black marker, and just, you know, open hands, walking up to cars and asking for money for their team. I'm sorry, but when did pan-handling become okay for Jr. sports? When I played sports...er...I mean...when I participated in extracurricular activities (band, choir, academics), we sold things that were sponsored by fund raising companies. It was a business. People got good products and were able to give a little bit of money to our programs. It doesn't work for bums downtown, why should it work for kids on street corners? When did we decide that cutting out the middle-man and training kids to beg for money was a good idea? I don't know a lot about economics, okay, I don't know ANYTHING, but I know that this is kind of ridiculous. NO, not kind of, it is totally ridiculous. Now, homeless people have to compete with kids that want to play football for money at stoplights. Is there no justice in the world?
I have a problem with this.
I also have a problem with kids going into a grocery store, buying candy for fifty cents a pop, and then selling it to me for two dollars to help out their little league. Again, isn't that just like, I don't know, scalping tickets? Instead of encouraging kids to panhandle and/or scalp, why can't we encourage them to, I don't know, learn something useful? If I sell $50 of these special candy bars, I get $30 dollars donated to my cause, and I get a t-shirt, or something. I mean..isn't that like, retail experience? I'm trying to work this out in my head. Somebody help me out here.
I have a problem with this.
I also have a problem with kids going into a grocery store, buying candy for fifty cents a pop, and then selling it to me for two dollars to help out their little league. Again, isn't that just like, I don't know, scalping tickets? Instead of encouraging kids to panhandle and/or scalp, why can't we encourage them to, I don't know, learn something useful? If I sell $50 of these special candy bars, I get $30 dollars donated to my cause, and I get a t-shirt, or something. I mean..isn't that like, retail experience? I'm trying to work this out in my head. Somebody help me out here.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Pop Up
You know what I wish? I wish that adobe acrobat would leave me the hell alone. Honestly. I can't count how many times I try to do something on my computer while Adobe tries to get me to "make it better." I'd like to enjoy it the way it is, thank you very much.
Another thing that keeps popping up in my life, and in my mind, is this sinking feeling that I have no say in my future. I suppose that's a little fatalistic of me. I try to take control of situations, only to feel, invariably, that I have no say in what happens next. I'm becoming what Emerson became: a cynic. C'est la vie.
I can never pump myself enough to sit down and grade papers. I suppose I should find some way to enjoy this if I want to continue my career in this direction. I have to sift through a ginormous pile of papers for a pretty long time this weekend. I feel overworked and underappreciated. It is also magnificent outside. I'm rested, and the sun is shining, but instead of going on outings, I've got to sit in the back yard and grade papers. If only I could pay someone to do it for me...If only I had the clout of a true professor.
I'm currently waiting for the kitchen floor to dry. It might be almost there.
Another thing that keeps popping up in my life, and in my mind, is this sinking feeling that I have no say in my future. I suppose that's a little fatalistic of me. I try to take control of situations, only to feel, invariably, that I have no say in what happens next. I'm becoming what Emerson became: a cynic. C'est la vie.
I can never pump myself enough to sit down and grade papers. I suppose I should find some way to enjoy this if I want to continue my career in this direction. I have to sift through a ginormous pile of papers for a pretty long time this weekend. I feel overworked and underappreciated. It is also magnificent outside. I'm rested, and the sun is shining, but instead of going on outings, I've got to sit in the back yard and grade papers. If only I could pay someone to do it for me...If only I had the clout of a true professor.
I'm currently waiting for the kitchen floor to dry. It might be almost there.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Three Weeks Left
I have been teaching Developmental English at Southwest Tennessee Community College for twelve weeks now, and I have just recently discovered the key to getting the attention I have been battling for. As much as I hate lecturing and turning my back on my audience, I have started writing everything I say on the board, and the classroom has never been more quiet. Someone in their study skills class must be telling them the old truth that you should write down everything that the teacher puts on the board because it is probably important. Maybe I just didn't think that everything I had to say was important until now. They sit on the edge of their seats, their pens and pencils poised in their hands, with baited breath, awaiting the next nugget of priceless information about how to successfully conclude an essay.
Then, of course, their are those that are texting. Next semester, I'm going to be a hard ass about the phones. I'm pretty good at ignoring it, but there are some students that just get under my skin. I'm going to start taking their phones, just quietly walking up to them and taking their phones. I've spent too much time this semester getting my feelings hurt. It's difficult teaching a DIFFERENT class every damn semester. I never get a chance to improve my strategy. I figure out what works by the end of the semester, and I have to learn a new class. It makes me want to shave my head, set myself on fire, and run around laughing hysterically. Okay...maybe not. It pretty much just makes me want to drink a lot of whiskey. That's about it.
I have recently rid myself of an annoying skin problem. I feel like a new woman. I am now going to finish my coffee and look over my lesson for today. What's going on with you guys?
Then, of course, their are those that are texting. Next semester, I'm going to be a hard ass about the phones. I'm pretty good at ignoring it, but there are some students that just get under my skin. I'm going to start taking their phones, just quietly walking up to them and taking their phones. I've spent too much time this semester getting my feelings hurt. It's difficult teaching a DIFFERENT class every damn semester. I never get a chance to improve my strategy. I figure out what works by the end of the semester, and I have to learn a new class. It makes me want to shave my head, set myself on fire, and run around laughing hysterically. Okay...maybe not. It pretty much just makes me want to drink a lot of whiskey. That's about it.
I have recently rid myself of an annoying skin problem. I feel like a new woman. I am now going to finish my coffee and look over my lesson for today. What's going on with you guys?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
