read this

Dang blogger. I attempted to be all witty with a link, but the site was malfunctioning and didn't show it had published the post or even display the link I wanted. Click on the title now, folks. It's a blurb on the situation in Iraq, the personnel chosen, the president's half a brain, and how political ideology is getting in the way of practicality. Sorry for the inconvenience!

the lemonade stand

After moping for my poor car and hating work, I've realized how many good friends of mine couldn't find a job this summer! It's crazy that intelligent, capable, and DISCIPLINED people have nothing to do because no one will offer them a position. I think that everyone should make a point of sending out apps next year in March to beat the crowd. But for this summer, Nic and I had a great idea: a lemonade stand!

Think about it! We could make MUCH better lemonade than those little tykes with their grimy hands and inferior stirring muscles! What's more, I bet that by holding up a sign that said "Fresh lemonade to keep me in college" or some such thing, everyone would stop by! I mean, you're not going door-to-door and annoying them and they'll think "awww... that's so cute!" And once they taste your gourmet lemonade, you'll put competitors out of business and become Lemonade King or Queen in your neighborhood. After you have a firm hold on the sidewalk drink industry, you can then expand into edibles, like hot dogs or veggie dogs. You'll reach your audience, believe you me! And just think, no more job applications and a fun source of income this summer. What am I doing at the PCA when I could be tapping the lemonade markey in Chanhassen?

one bad day

Argh. I hate those days when you feel like everything that could go wrong is. My car is overheating, something I had prayed it wouldn't start doing again. I had it checked out last summer and none of the obvious things were wrong with it, so that's not a good sign. This could be the end of my old girl. Jimmy stopped by last night while on his way up north to go work on the farm for the weekend. My parents thought this was "excessive" and that 10:40 is much too late. With Noah gone at camp, my parents need someone to scold for unsatisfactory behavior and as I am the only one left to tell off, the responsibility falls on me. Suddenly I seem to have regressed from the rational person who manages just fine on her own without their almighty guidance to a gawky girl who can't manage her own affairs and would stay up until all hours of the night unless forced to go to bed at a decent hour. It's hard not to feel the tiniest bit insulted because I'm so conscious of how many hours of sleep I get a night because I need to be in order to function as a relatively normal human being. Note: I do say relatively normal. It wasn't either of them that pushed me to go to the doctor to try to put a name to what was wrong with me and it feels like they're only too happy to use the CFS as a scapegoat to scold me with any time they feel it is convenient. To make matters worse I feel and look like an old shirt that has been wrung out one too many times. Every day now, when I look in the mirror, I see this blearly-eyed, extremely pale person with deep shadows under her eyes. I look ill and I don't feel much better. I certainly don't give off the aura of a competent employee. I wish I could go home (via a magic carpet that cannot overheat), take a shower, and pretend that life was great, that I liked (or could at least tolerate) my job, and that hoo-ha it's summer, time to go have fun. But alas, I've lost my genie and wishes like that don't even make the going easier.

Hobbits

I found this article on www.tolkeinonline.com and I really liked it. Most of us are wondering which road to take and quite a few are looking for romance. Thus, I thought this might be appropriate to put up. Tell me what you think.


"On Valentine's Day, better a hobbit's heart than to lust after a lord
Too many people are hoodwinked by our society's cult of romantic love.

The other day, a bunch of us in the office, Lord of the Rings fans all, were talking about our favourite characters from the book and movie. I said when I was a girl, I loved to imagine myself as Arwen, the dark-haired Elven princess.

Arwen, for those (few) who've neither read the books nor seen the movie, is the heroic beauty who sacrifices her chance at immortality in order to marry her great love, Aragorn, the handsome, brooding warrior who becomes the High King of Middle-earth.

But, as I joked with the guys here, I didn't end up as Arwen, married to Aragorn. I grew up to be Rose Cotton, married to Sam Gamgee.

That line got a good laugh in the newsroom. Rose Cotton, you see, is no elf princess. She's a short, plump hobbit, with a tendency to be bit bossy with her men-folk. Sam is her hobbit husband, a down-to-earth cook and gardener with hairy feet.

Most of the people I was talking to thought I was taking a shot at my husband. But in actual fact, I think I was really paying him the highest of compliments. As far as I'm concerned, Samwise Gamgee is the real hero of The Lord of the Rings, not Aragorn or Gandalf or Frodo.

Sam isn't a warrior by training or inclination. He isn't looking for glory or adventure.

He gets dragged into danger because of his love and loyalty for his gentle master, Frodo, the soulful hobbit who's been given the great task of destroying the Dark Lord's ring of evil.

As Frodo's squire, Sam travels all the way to heart of the Dark Lord's kingdom, battling orc-goblins, giant spiders and his own fears and frailties. He fights as bravely as any of the story's flashier knights -- more bravely, because he's no superhero with a magic sword, just an ordinary guy overtaken by extraordinary circumstances.

But his real heroism lies in his unshakeable loyalty to his best friend, and in his unshakeable loyalty to his hobbit values, his moral code.

When all the battles and quests are over, Sam returns to his prosaic hobbit life, marrying Rose, raising kids, planting trees and nurturing the community he loves.

The problem is, our culture doesn't validate the heroism of the Samwise Gamgees of this world. The romantic heroes every teenage girl is taught to pine for are the Byronic brooders like Aragorn.

But outside of books and movies, Aragorn-types are hard to come by. So, for that matter, are fantastically beautiful Arwen elf princesses.

No wonder so many people end up disappointed and disillusioned, hoodwinked by our cult of romantic love, which tells us that if we don't end up with an Arwen or an Aragorn, we have failed in the game of life.

On Valentine's Day, in particular, anyone, married or single, who doesn't have a storybook romance is all but encouraged to feel dissatisfied and cheated.

But life is not a fairy tale and love is not a myth. And this is my valentine to my husband, my Samwise Gamgee. I call him that, not because he's short and stocky and hairy-toed -- though he is. I call him that because he's brave and funny and loyal and kind, because he's a fabulous cook who makes the best fried mushrooms I've ever tasted.

He's my hero, because when our daughter breaks a toy he takes out his super-glue and puts the little pieces back together. He's my hero, because when I'm sick he makes me steaming cups of honey-lemon water and steaming pots of chicken soup and rubs my back. He's my hero, because he can roll out a pie-crust, change a tire in a blizzard and settle our little girl to sleep faster than anyone else.

Is he perfect? Far from it. About as far as I am.

Here's my advice on this St. Valentine's Day. Don't flagellate yourself if you're not embroiled in a big-screen love affair with a perfect prince or princess. Whether you're coupled or single, straight or gay, spend today celebrating the heroism of real love -- not "romance, " but the love of friends and family and community, the "ordinary" garden-variety love that conquers darkness. Don't worry about loving like an elf lord or a princess. Love like a hobbit.

And may the hair on your toes grow ever longer. "

life after high school

I realized that none of my high school friends (with the exception of Chris Mueller) bother to read my blog. Not that there is anything particularly profound in it, but they manage to read each other's Xangas pretty dang well. Come to think of it, I haven't seen many of them in a while. And I don't get the feeling that any of us are really sad about that. Maybe we're all busy, which has been my social limitation this summer, but maybe we're really just apathetic and too busy trying to sort out our own troubles to remember that "HEY, I haven't seen so and so."

John Aho mentioned that it was hard to break out of who people thought you were in high school and I must say I quite agree. I look back at myself and at pictures and I see someone who was more insecure, who was crazy and out of control and liked being that way, who was good at school and liked to be, who got noticed more but didn't listen as well, who was more outgoing and made friends more quickly, and who was just as busy, but had a lot more energy. I feel like I've mellowed. I also can't help but feel that a lot of people from home haven't realized this. I mean, we've all changed. Tim has Jessica and is much more outspoken about what he believes. John Aho goes to Carleton and is subjected to much more rigor than I think we realize. I've never met his friends there, but he goes out with them on the weekends. John K. has gotten much closer to his Gatsby ideal. He works hard, dresses well, and go after that suave gentleman aura. Amanda has given up on classes for a long time. She's done with school and is deciding to work instead. She sees a lot of more of people like her, who live in the area fulltime, than she does of the kb.qb crowd she scorns.

Maybe I'm totally wrong and seeing things from an outsider's perspective. That would only prove my point more. I think it's hard for us to see our friends outside of the box in which we met them. When I try to sit down and have deep conversations with any of my home friends, I distinctly feel that I am being neither listened to nor my opinions really being considered. They're too busy and they're not used to the Great Con me who tries really hard not to interrupt people. Still, I feel like I have more connection with these people who I've known for years and years than I do with many Oles. Am I getting shy or just unwilling to let go of the past?

Isn't college supposed to be the greatest time of your life? Why then do I read so many internet journals in which people are sad, down-trodden, feeling hopeless about job prospects or interpersonal relationships, or wonder what they're going to study/do? Are we really that different from people who went to college before us, or do you only gain that sense of "golden years" after you leave school and realize that the real world is much worse. What do we have to look forward to? Stress, more stress, and then retirement? We think that doing it all is the sign of being successful: having a great career, family, and making enough money to support the latter. I think you make sacrifices of one for the others. Maybe you have a job you like and can spend time with your family, but it doesn't pay that well. Or suppose you have a high-intensity career that gives you all the financial security you could want, but you neglect your family in the process. You could hate your job, love your family.

Where is the sense of meaning that is supposed to be found in life? Maybe what really ties me to Chaska High School, to knowledge bowl, and the people I knew there is that I felt life had more meaning way back when. And I'd like to hold onto that memory for as long as I need to search for it now. Because I feel like I ought to have it all and yet I don't because some critical, maybe spiritual, piece is missing. Maybe a lot of my troubles would be solved by a shorter work week? Maybe if we had the time to tackle them, to read, and to rest our minds and bodies, things could be different. But I think that things are different: a simple life is no long valued, but looked down upon as not having accomplished enough. I guess we're supposed to balance all these pieces like the legs of a table and maybe that's what college really is supposed to teach us. Paths cross and then weave apart again and perhaps I just need to be more open to the current.

Go My Antonia!

With hot summer weather and a lot of tedious, stop and start commuting, I was dreading filling up my tank to see what sort of gas mileage My Antonia had been getting. I was SHOCKED when I realized that my baby had gone like 215 miles on 7.15 gallons of gas. She's an old girl and literally getting 30 miles to the gallon in spite of radio and AC usage as well as some bumps and frequent accelerations. Amanda my dear friend, I love you and I love The Bitch, but as you make fun of my car, in your face! This is why Honda Civics kick ASS! Ahhh... I love my baby.

On unrelated subjects, let's see. Ah yes. I've really hurt my neck and upper back at work. The chairs are atrocious and I'm working at the computer every minute. I had to go in late to work this morning for the combined reasons of pain and generally not feeling good. It always feels sacreligious to be sick during the summer, as if you're betraying its spirit and the freedom it represents. Still, I know myself and the days of getting only 8 hours of sleep a night are catching up to me. Yes, I know that for others this would be ok. And yes, I do have moral objections to going to bed earlier than 10:20 or 10:30 with any regularity.

Tonight it's off to Northfield to hang out with the boyfriend in Thorson. I'm looking forward to the drive down. Only two and a half hours to go. I'm out of things to do at work, so I guess I'll continue educating myself on environmental issues. Happy weekend!

good read

I stole this from Grant, but as it's something everyone should read, here you all go. Yay Star Trek!

something cheerful

I decided I needed something cheerful to supplement the gloom of last post. I've realized the great thing about getting older is that you get to start over family-wise. You move out, you really have your own life, you get to start your own family. It's like a clean slate. All the sad Christmases and holidays as well as years of being lonely at night, shut up in a bedroom, not being able to ever watch TV on the couch, or listen to music, and every other unfair thing has the chance to be erased. I know what I want to avoid at all costs. I'm not perfect, no one is, but at least there's a better chance of being allowed to be happy. You're couch commando now and there's no one to tell you to go away. That's got to be an improvement. Especially if you've right person to be happy with.

9 months today!!!

MWA HA! Jimmy and I have been dating for exactly 9 months today. How exciting it is to be able to write that! I'm going down to campus tonight to celebrate. I can't wait to see him, can't wait to see the room, can't wait to just exist after work, which will probably be exhausting as usual. I should also mention that I saw Jimmy last night, too, but under very different circumstances. We had a pretty big fight at home last night and I took off to Burnsville for dinner to meet him. I don't care about the gas anymore. I'm getting a raise and there are more important things. I don't understand why my family lets things continue as they are. No one enjoys being home. Last night was all about a fridge. My fridge, to be exact. My 18th birthday present. That my Dad yearly fills with his crap. It hasn't bothered me too much thus far, that is until last night. The fridge is the last battleground. I've retained control of most things in my life: my car, computer, and now phone. There is very little my dad can impose when he gets mad and wants to flex his control. But the fridge, which lives downstairs much to my dismay, is something that technically belongs to me but isn't mine to do anything with. I was trying to find dinner and quickly. After getting a bit upset when things my parents had stashed someplace seemed to have disappeared (I'm always afraid of it going bad in a dark corner, forgotten about), a bag of quesedilla cheese making was launched at me from across half the house. It broke, making a mess of course, but the more important thing was the anger behind it being chucked. Every time when I go home, I get bitched at for doing things like that when I'm angry by none other than my dad. Things were quickly degrading and I thought to solve it once and for all, the fridge should just move upstairs for the summer until it goes back to school (I actually have space for it now!). This was unacceptable so it got sat on to prevent its removal. There are many things I'll put up with from my father, but insults and refridgerator sit-ins are just too much. I ended up running out to my car and driving away. My father stationed himself unnaturally in front of the fridge all night and now day in a HP and the Sorceror's Stone fashion. Again with the power struggle. Well, it's effectively ended now! It's a difficult time to balance the faults of your parents, your own very flawed nature, decide what's right and what's wrong, and some how come out of it all alive. I've always been an adult in their eyes, unable to make the smallest mistake without being flayed alive. And now that I actually am "grown-up", I feel more and more like a child.

just another frenzied friday

I wish it were my day! Instead, I'm at the office for the whole day, of course. At least this week has passed by more quickly than last. But the real reason I'm in a frenzy is that St. Olaf grades are due to be posted this morning. And that is enough to make my blood pressure catapult. I'm guiltily refreshing the webpage every couple minutes in the hope that a sure sign that I a) am a good student, b) deserve to consider myself a nerd and c)am not going to be chucked out of school will appear.

Still not there. What are they playing at? Do they know people all over are brooding over their grades, waiting for them to be displayed? What kind of torture are they attempting to inflict? I mean, sweet Registrar, put them up now pretty please? If they do it according to last name, then mine should be coming soon, right? Right? ... CURSES!

AH! I keep doing it, so I've closed the window and that's that. MMMMHMMM. I'll look again in a few minutes... err, hours.

Ode to a Secchi disk

Secchi disks have to be one of the greatest inventions of all time... errr... limnological time. But seriously. A whole bunch of water quality info from this one little white disk on a string. A long time ago, Mr. Secci needed to measure the clarity of the Mediterranean Sea for one of the popes and he invented this happy little beast. What's more is that making Secchi disks today got me out of the office for a whole 5 hours!!! I get to go home in only 3 hours and it's been the best day of work so far. Today, we made 15 shnazzy, proto-type Secchi disks. Usually, they're quite heavy so that one can get an accurate reading of water clarity. As you lower it into the water, the moment at which the white disk is no longer visible is the Secchi depth. The string is marked with paint pens (which I successfully avoided getting all over my white shirt!) so you round the depth off to the closest foot as marked on the string. However, backpacking through the BWCA presents a challenge to the avid lake-monitorer. One cannot simply lug a several pound Secchi disk about. Instead, a man here designed a new one, made of durable plastic, with a net pouch attached. One simply adds rocks to the pouch and voila! The portable, yet potent, Secchi disk is born and one may monitor freely! We even got to model their use. Jimmy, the bracelette you gave me is making its debut all over MN as my hand casually adds rocks to the pouch. I got to go out to lunch today, too. Again, Secchi disks are one of the greatest inventions.

Ned's here!

Finally -- human contact! Ned Brooks, who resides in the cubicle across from mine, is back from a work-related trip to South Africa!!! It's exciting to have another living soul nearby. It's really a shame that I'm so tired every day that I can't keep my head up. I literally go to bed at 10:30 every night and get up at 6:30 -- that's a whole 8 hours! I don't know what else to do. My body is clearly saying "you're working me too hard" but that's sort of a problem with the whole internship thing. How do people like me balance this? There must be someone out there who is fatigued and works an office job! Maybe they don't have to commute as much? Still -- I'm on the lookout for anti-exhaustion ideas or tips. If you have any, do comment.

car bashings, etc.

This weekend had some downs. Me backing into Grant's car accidentally was definitely a big one. Of course he graciously told me it was ok (like I knew he would 'cause he's just that nice) but I still felt Stupid with a capital S about it. Gotta look into getting that one undented. I also bashed in the back of My Antonia. Damn with a capital D. Poor baby. Stupid owner. Still, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. And what's more, a lot of things aren't as bad as they could be by any means.

The job. Well, the commuting is a pain in the ass and pushed me from mental exhaustion to complete physical exhaustion as well. Still, it's not that bad. It's very tedious and monotonous work, but I'm sure I'll be happy that the MPCA is air-conditioned come July. And, it looks like I'll at least be in the field once or twice so that's something. What's more, it's a slight ego boost that I can do this job. As far as the report writing goes, I've learned a lot in high school and some at St. Olaf and by God, my worst fear that I'd be totally incompetent has passed. I might need to cut back on hours as the CFS stuff worsens, but for now I'll just bear having to go to bed at 10:30 (pathetic) every night and save my social life for the weekends.

The weekend! Jimmy came to visit! YAY! I had tons of fun with him, just as always. We went bed shopping with my mom (because my sad little bed has nearly all of it's supports broken) and ended up finding a similarly metal headboard, but much older looking bed AND bought a frame and boxspring to go with it. He also helped my destress, organize my mess of assorted CDs, movies, and books. It was in short, the ideal weekend.

Amanda! I saw her FINALLY. Sheesh. It took me long enough. But it's splendid to see her, even if we are in very different places.

My room! It will be livable, so help me God. It's a tiny room, yes. It's a full room, as one is bound to be when the college stuff moves back in. But you know what? It can be cleaned! It will be rearranged. And I am just the girl to do it... on a weekend.

See all these lovely things to be happy about, to find refuge in. I just need to keep reminding myself when I'm feeling ready to throw in the towel. :)

what makes a career worthwhile?

I was always under the impression that in order to have a worthwhile occupation, you would do something related to what you liked to study. However, I'm not so sure about that. A lot of things that you love to read and think about make for frustrating jobs, as I'm finding out. I love being outside and cleaning up the Earth, but the desk job at the MPCA isn't ... really my thing. However, I really love the coffeehouse and I never tire of that job no matter what. Now honestly, how does that work? Even if my friends never came to visit, I'd love it. Shouldn't it be the other way around, that the more challenging, scientific internship beats out the college work study job? I think it takes a lot more to be satisfied at work than prestige or academic pursuits. If you can't really get the satisfaction of making anyone's day better through the work you do, then I find that I'm not really feeling satisfied with the job either. I think in the end, go to college, learn, find things you like to do and graduate. THEN, think about what you want to do, even if it has nothing to do with anything. I can always take hikes or monitor lakes for fun, but I doubt that I'd feel content devoting my life to it.

MPCA and marriage

Two huge things happened this week.

For starters (as a lot of you know), I began my first "real world job". Actually I think I may be the first one of us all to actually have a real office, cubicle, work environment, etc. job except for maybe Wendy.

And that brings me to number two:

Wendy's getting married... this August.

My Wendy! MARRIED! I wondered when this would happen (and I rightly guessed when we told me she had exciting news for me) but I didn't think I'd be in such shock. Happy shock, mind you. Wendy is wonderful and BYU boys are all nice, responsible, caring and older, thus they are at the point in life during which one intends to marry. I mean, he's 24 -- because good Mormon boys go on missions for 0.5-2 years -- and having just graduated will be going to med school. And Wendy is giving up the single life of living with "the girls" in her moral, bachelorette pad to marry him, to change her name, leave her apt., friends and possibly even BYU to follow him. Is this "bacheloretter" than waiting a year?

BYU operates, from all that I understand of this mysterious place, on a different time scale than the rest of the U.S. People get married to other members of the church in college and this is perfectly normal. I can't help but compare this to St. Olaf, where it's kosher to wait at least until the day after graduation to tie the knot. But, are these two religious schools that different? Here Wendy is, 20 years old, about to marry a fiance she's been dating for not even six months. And then there's me planning to marry the guy I've been dating for 9 months. I guess it's a fair point that Jimmy and I will NOT be doing any marrying in the next two years, thus extending the courtship period into the "acceptable" length of time that one tests the waters. I have to wonder, what would it be like if we all were getting married right now? It seems like there's so much to do and to learn and many mistakes to make before you "settle down." But people didn't always believe this needed to happen while single. In fact, to many it's perfectly acceptable to go through these life experiences with someone else at your side. It's like a safety net.

This whole marriage thing is Scary with a capital S. I hope Wendy feels she's making the right decision (which I know she does), that everything goes off without a hitch, and that my time won't come for a blissfully long while.

From a lonely cubicle

Sigh. I was really excited for this internship, but day one has been anything but eventful and I have been counting down the hours since I got here. I am sitting alone. In a cubicle. Reading various Lake Assessment Programs. Alone. With nothing else to occupy my time. Can you say Office Space? Man. This is supposed to be meaningful, experiential work, but I am longingly thinking of my lovely little Coffeehouse in Larson Hall where work is never dull and other human beings dare to speak to you. I was supposed to get some data to analyze, but thus far nada except a hundred pages on Lake Assessments in Itasca and Cook Counties. Hey -- "expect" is like "except" EXCEPT for the c and the p are reversed. Cool!

OMG... Did I actually just write that? I think I've hit rock bottom and am cracking completely. Well. I better go partition the end of my food to last me. So f*ing hungry.

peace and rain

I marvel at how wonderful it is to be on campus when most people have already left. It's a tranquil Wednesday night and the rain is falling outside my window onto some much needed earth. I also marvel at how good it feels to have a nearly-empty room. Right now, 501 Larson is clean and open and I just feel at peace inside of it. There is little clutter, no posters or bits of paper tacked to the walls. It's like the man-made image of nature. I only wish Jimmy was still around! It's lovely to have some time to think and be peaceful, but I know I'll have a lot of quiet nights this summer after work and I wish I could just be with him for right now. I talked to him on the phone, so that's some consolation. But still, perhaps there's a sweet calm to this melancholy that makes it much easier to bear than the confinement of home. I could live like this for months on end.

cursed superego!

I think I've figured out what my problem is! I have an overactive superego! I'm way too rule-conscious with other people ("oh, that's not polite!") -- blah blah, so who cares? No one will suddenly hate you if you're not on your best behavior. I think my superego is my parents! Guilt, catholicism, academia, being "perfect" and "good" all time. My superego is the messed up one, I should just not worry! While I love Freud, I do have a bone to pick with him: I don't think that your entire personality is formed by the age of 5! Look at me! Until age 5, serious parental depression was out of the picture! It was after age 5 that that set in and I got pretty messed up hearing all kinds of traumatic things, like what a bad kid I was. So honestly Mr. Freud, sheesh! J/k. It's ok. Everyone has history. Sometimes it's just really crippling, that's all. Anyway, thus ends my con-prompted ponderings. :) Nighty night all you Freudian sex fiends!

HAHAH! Houston, we have TITLE!

Mwa hahahah! Blogger rocks my world. I decided to boycott studying for a bit longer in order to check out my potential blog possibilities. Y'all can comment and such. How exciting! It's time to bite the bullet (or perhaps the contralto mouthpiece?) and get ready for jury, finals, and other such important events in the next day or two. Good luck everyone!

itunes!

My computer got a facelift! I'm so proud! It's all beautiful with Mozilla and itunes! I'm excited to perhaps clean up some of the junk I've got about... :) yay!!!