Happy Birthday Mansfield Park!

Actually, no, not the Jane Austen novel. It's the REAL birthday of my blog! I created it one year ago today...

Ahhh... the wonders of weblogs. I ought to write a bit of something on the action at fortawesome.blogspot.com, demonstrative of the crazy power blogging seems to hold over (one can only assume) what were once rational people. The upcoming election seems to have long-since taken hold of many people's minds. Either I just wasn't paying attention last time (which wasn't true) or things are getting much more heated much earlier for the 2004 election. Comments like:
*Make a collection of your soap box and every other liberal soap box, and have yourself a grand bon fire.
*If you feel the need to be this [i.e. the liberal bonfire comment] oppressive, go live in Communist China. (ok, so this one was me)
*WRONG, freaks
*John Kerry is nothing short of evil... He is a lying piece of shit.
and my personal favorite: *Say what you want about being independent or liberal. Say what you want about your wrong viewpoints. Say anything you want about you or your sexual attraction to sticks used by Dan Rather. Do NOT, bash George W. Bush. He is a great man. Fuck you all, assholes. (For further explanation on the Dan Rather comments as well as other, more profane commentary check out grant's blog).

But HONESTLY! Presidential elections make people into raving lunatics. The last few quotes on there are just abysmal. Freedom of speech does not equal freedom of vulgarity! Ugh, what was a decent debate devolved into a mud-slinging contest full of conservative BS from people who don't know Grant at all but somehow think that he deserves that kind of crap? I don't think W. is a great man, or even close to one. Nothing he's ever said could have convinced me of it. And now I'm none-too-impressed by his supporters either.

OMG!

Just came to the sudden realization that Jim Broadbent, who plays Bridget Jones's father in the fab movie, ALSO was Harold Zidler in Moulin Rouge! MY GOD! Talk about a versatile actor! You would never know he was the same guy..... The things you learn on IMDB while bored at work!

the best weekend

I didn't get enough sleep last night, so I'm feeling rather sickish, but I think that writing a nice post might help the fatigue... Socially speaking, it was the best weekend in as long as I can remember.

I took on role of personal shopper again on Friday afternoon when John [Aho] and I hit EP mall to look for some new duds for him. I didn't have to work and it was LOVELY. Was very proud -- only bought one thing for myself (a pair of replacement sunglasses which I may return due to insufficient funds). Later that night, Amanda and I went into Uptown to check out the tea bar we're coming to love dearly. It felt good to get out and even better to just talk candidly with her about the girliest of things.

On Saturday night, it was time to let loose a bit. Now, those who know me know I'm def no drunkard, but it was a good way to get the very last bits of partying out of my system before next week and a year of RA-dom. Aho and Tim had been playing baseball in the front yard and stayed, much to my delight. were the obligatory discussions of baseball and politics. I even tried smoking a ghetto cigar, which was fairly vile. It felt like being back in high school in a good and nostalgic way.

Sunday, I drove to Rosedale Mall to meet the Jimmy and do more personal shopping. It's far more fun to dress one's boyfriend. I was so proud of him! He got actual college-aged things! No more Old Navy poster boy. I shouldn't tease. We all did the walking label thing. It was a good day for me too. I got hot-ass jeans at American Eagle, a couple shirts, and a new little crabbie! I shouldn't say little, cause she's approximately Cami-sized. I think I'm almost scared of her! Still, I hope she survives better than the really vulnerable, little ones. She needs a name though.... If you have suggestions for crab names, do comment.

However, the only down side to this weekend was the ridiculous amount of money spent. Jeans, shirts, new shells, drinks at Starbucks and tea bars. I was a baaaaad girl and I feel guilt-ridden. I wish I could spend little to no money... ever. Still, some purchases are flexible and able to be taken back if need be. And the need may arise quickly. Ack. Time to work, now. Bye to all.

breaking point

You know what? My family's happiness levels have reached record lows. And I am confident in saying that the issue is not me. This summer has been a point of realization for me. I've gotten to see the parental perspective on numerous occasions from coworkers and just people I watch when I'm out. And, my dad is just out of control. I didn't tell really anyone what happened last week, but there was another little skirmish. My dad lost his temper so utterly... it was not pretty. And it would have been enough for me to call police dispatch and report domestic violence. But I didn't. I don't want people to hear indepth about what goes on at our house or for my dad's teaching to be hurt. After all, the very best of him comes out in the classroom to other, luckier, and to him better children.

And I have just one question: why did he ever have children in the first place? I think that when you have kids, you give up the right to hate them because your own feelings are hurt. Kids do that without realizing it but it's no reason to turn your back on them. They need patience (in spades) and the knowledge that they have your unconditional love. And you have to be open-minded: there is a possibility that you could be wrong, and there will undoubtedly be times in which you show them how to apologize like an adult. Without these essential things, I don't see how a person could possibly expect to make a positive difference in their child's life.

And so, I am done with living as if everything is happy at home. Our extended family and friends have an inkling as to how things really are and I'm about to get them all involved. I'll do anything if it has a chance of improving things long-term. I still care enough about my dad to want to see him happy. And I definitely want things to be better for my mother, brother, and myself. No one should voluntarily live like this.

Dreams:
Going back to school will be like waking up after a troubling sleep to realize everything's ok
My dad will voluntarily go to some sort of counseling
Being an RA and a manager will ROCK
I'll get everything done and packed with time to go get ice cream before move-in
My studies in bio/ES will be validated by this internship
Lighten/cheer up!

feeling contemplative

Do you ever wonder if the whole way you think and view the world around you is terribly skewed? Every so often (ok, so I'm lying, it's about every week) I get into some psychological rumble with myself. Am I seeking truth or just playing at sophistry?

Typical rumble-esque self dialogue:
When we're younger, American culture paints a beautiful picture: you're unique and special -- you can be or do anything you want. As you get older, however, the internal message switches to survival of fittest: work hard, out compete your fellow citizens, find the drive in yourself to win that good grade, job, game. We aren't celebrated for our differences anymore and you have to wonder if we ever really were. But then there are always exceptions and I think those are the people who are driving the evolution of our culture. You can always being accepting and tolerant of those around you. Actually, it's even better to do more... you could actually appreciate those quirky people you run into each day. I think there's a stigma that you and your friends should all have similar tastes, interests and lifestyles. I see it in my little brother, who's afraid to do things that his friends don't approve of. One of the great things about friendships is how much new stuff you get to experience (and not just in that hallucenogenic drug way) via one another.

Sometime in the last four years, I gave up dreaming. Not in the REM way, but in the idealistic, "this is what I want to happen in my life and I'm not afraid to think it'll come true." It might have been failed romance or reading more literature or things at home or going away to school or maybe even the chronic fatigue which slowly set in starting about four years ago. I think that really, the combination of these things led me to self doubt which then turned into self doubt. Did I really deserve a fairy tale happy ending? Was I extraordinary enough to leave the world a better place than when I found it? Was I even right about anything? (Here is where truth vs. semantics came from). Did I just over analyze everything? I started to see other adults with families and jobs that became so wrapped up in the mundane details of life that they forgot what it was about in the first place. Once you're aware of this phenomenon, it's hard not to become infected with it. Thus, it is time for change.

I really, really don't want to stop dreaming or hoping that what I'm doing with myself will make a difference. I think I am going to institute dreams on Mansfield... even if they're outlandish ones, who cares, I'll have fun writing them and one of my friends will have fun reading them.

Dream #1: I get to work fairly high up (eventually) on some lovely humanitarian organization that finds homes/jobs for people struggling in rural America.

Dream #2: I clean up my bedroom and don't get tired/angry in the process. Better yet, I sleep in a hammock and save floor space for my new fort. haha, j/k

Dream #3: I invest in a beautiful new digital camera that can take b&w, sepia, negative, night shots WITH a quick flash, decent resolution and an optical zoom.

Dream #4: Bocce on Mellby lawn. Enough said. Bocce kicks ass AND it's Italian.

Dream #5: Graduate from college with grades that I am not ashamed of. Get to play Buffet Bass Clarinet in SOB. Oh yeah.

R.I.P. Frida

I was on a sampling trip for the PCA over the past couple days. When I called home on Monday night to see how everyone was, my mom said that Frida the Hermit Crab Extraordinaire was changing shells! I was sooo sad to be missing it and couldn't wait to come back, however, Frida did not make it through the process. I came home to an empty crab carrier and a sad little crab body that had slipped out of its shell. Frida, being the lively little gal she was, was an especially personable crab. She enjoyed scuttling sideways, often falling into a roll, and was of the pale blue/green variety of hermit. She also liked to sit in front of the heat duct in my room. She was not too fond of bathing. She and Cami used to curl up together in the corner of their tank. They also chirped at one another. He's very lonely now. Poor Cam... Here is a slightly melodramatic, though rather heartfelt tribute to Frida --

Gregarious crab:
though small, you were full of life
but now silence falls.

R.I.P. little crab.

I am 20!

I remember reading in Anne of Green Gables that once you turn 20, your character was fixed (i.e. shape up now or turn into a bad girl forever!)... So, I've always thought of 20 as a landmark heralding you through the end of childhood. I must say, it ended up being quite a good birthday. The beginning, though filled with some gift opening and a picnic, was not much to speak of as I ran errands for the better part of it. I was feeling pretty let down towards the end of the afternoon and just wanted to be by myself for a while. Little did I know that several conspirators lay in the midst. (MWA HAHAHA, and it was a good thing too!) Thus, I was totally and utterly surprised when Jimmy and I walked in Rey Azteca (a restaurant everyone in the Chanhassen area should visit) to be greeted by a bunch of friends! I could only think was "all these people are here to see me!?" The whole thing was so much fun, especially for those who don't get out often due to work like me. Grant and Jimmy had even made a birthday cake... it was splendid delicious and wonderful to see (I had thought I was a cakeless girl since my parents were either recovering from surgery or extremely busy). And Jimmy! That boy! The whole party was completely his idea!!! He and his conspirators (whom I fondly will refer to as helper monkeys) called or emailed or imed sooo many people! Thank you helper monkeys! I was also spoilt by gifts, while was another total surprise -- dirty girl books, accessories (who knew they made gum?), and porn, btw. This morning, I checked my email and there were no less than seven emails or cards waiting for me. I feel more relaxed than I have in... well, years. It was a really great birthday. Thank you all.

NY trip

I thought my blog had eaten my long post about vacation, so I rewrote the whole thing only to find that it tried to eat it but could apparently only manage the title. I think I like the list version better. In a nutshell, here's Upstate NY (which is its own entity separate from the city but just as crazy):

-huge dinners required three+ tables to fit everyone and all the food
-lots of people coming and going at my aunt and uncles house
-everyone's always talking and laughing
-there are a lot of people!
-family is really important
-no urban sprawl
-visiting Auburn is always fun... so much family history!
-wish we hadn't lost so much culture (like the language) when my mom's crowd was growing up in the effort to homogenize and become "American"
-Ny accents are fun to pick up
-my cousin Michelle is one wild gal!
-despite my brother driving my [publicly] up a succession of walls, it's good to feel I belong
-my Great Aunt Josie talks about my grandmother and I desperately wish I knew more about where I came from
-my mom's cousin now lives in the house my mom grew up in. while remodeling, she found some old clothes of my mom's, uncle's and grandmother's IN THE WALL. we brought said wall clothes home
-bass pro stores are awesome (think cabela's with a 22,000 gallon tank of natural lake fish)
-you can do a lot with paint, like paint literally every square inch of your house
-miss family, almost wish I lived in NY (real estate cheaper)
-little cousins stomping on floor above my head at 7am make-a me sad!
-"vacation" is the key word for exhausting, not relaxing, but in that good way

Depression is everywhere

and I'm as guilty as the next person of it.  Looking over friend's blogs and websites (as well as talking to them in person), it's hard not to notice a pattern.  Everyone is depressed, feeling dejected, frustrated, sad and alone.  Whatever you want to call it, I think it's an epidemic.  

I wish I could help my friends... no one wants to see people they love in so much pain.  I'm no pinnacle of cheer, but I can see the good things, too.  In old movies, the characters' hearts were broken and they thought life would never recover but then they see something good and innocent, like children playing in the street, and suddenly they remember why they and all of us must go on.  There are so many simple pleasures in life.  As good as it feels to earn grades, go onto graduate school, get internships, etc., the real things that keep me going at St. Olaf are not career preparations and resume builders.  It's things like walking behind Mellby a dozen times a day in the fall when the sidewalk is engulfed by a tunnel of color and rustling.  Or being able to sit under the trees and read.  Or smelling the Malt-O-Meal, going for walks into town, coming inside on a cold night, watching snow fall for hours at a time, and making easy mac.  These keep me happy (and sane) when nothing else will.  Even if you're doing well in school, have friends, maybe even a fabulous boyfriend, it's the minutae that makes all the difference as far as I'm concerned. 

Maybe it's part of living in the moment.  In Star Wars, Yoda chides Luke for always looking to the future.  When I was younger, I thought that perhaps Yoda had had one too many fights with R2.  What's wrong with looking to the future if you're unhappy in the present?  After years of watching that movie, I decided the implication that inevitably the future would come and suddenly the present would be alluring and livable is dangerous.   What if the future isn't all it's cracked up to be?  What if you don't get into your top grad/law/med school?   For many people, it's these big, risky aspects (perhaps the more societally recognized things?) that make or break life, but I think that if everyone got excited about drinking lemonade, brushing their pet, or going for a walk outside in the sun and let themselves live in that moment instead of passing it over as unimportant and just filler material until the next big break, the world would be a much better place. 

 

Less than an hour to go...

I think the best thing about these long, mid-week sampling trips are the added benefit that I either work for a few hours on Fridays or get them off.  Today, it's the former, but I have so little to do that the work day is consisting of catching up on emails and blogs.  Another added benefit of being in the field is the color you pick up.  For instance, I no longer look like a Scandinavian ghost.  It's lovely.  I have tan cleavage.  Mmmmhmmm.  I've also had time to catch up on finances.  I've spent about $200 on trips that needs to be filed for reimbursement.  It's like opening a big Christmas present, even though you bought, wrapped, and placed it under the tree yourself.  I'm trying to look on the bright side of things.  I also tried to be a good parent to Noah last night, trying to make him feel better after he got his modem taken away.  He decided that this meant he could blame on me because of course he should be able to tie up the phone line whenever he pleases.  My venture into parenting was short-lived.  Pity I was really not that bad.  Aitkin County is kinda like Mexico in that being there makes you feel guilty.  They aren't very well off up there and a lot of people live in old trailers.  I realized how well off people in the burbs are.  And how lazy that makes us.  Maybe it's better to struggle.  You appreciate things more when they don't come easily to you.  But then again, I realize things like that because I am wealthy enough to travel and perceive differences.  What a catch-22. 

Tonight's the last Community Band concert.  While I'm excited for certain parts of going back to school, I could leave a lot of others.  For instance, taking Remote Sensing/GIS with Welch, the most close minded professor I've yet heard of at St. Olaf.  Or perhaps the parking permit that I was supposed to get over two months ago from NiNi Hopkins thus enabling the coffeehouse to operate.  Still, there are good things, like living next to Bridget and Jennifer in Mellby, having my very own room, seeing all sorts of people (like Vanna) from school again, feeling redeemed because by God, I had a damn reputable internship over the summer.  Band... hmmm... that one's mixed.  I feel like a fish out of water.  I would love to be someone that people remember is in the room or maybe even acknowledge in the hallways of Christiansen, but until I either become a music major or play an instrument that puts me in the spotlight (HAHA to both of those), I guess I'll be content with the backseat.  The actual act of playing is joyful.  It's more the bureaucratic pieces that pull it down.  A lot of things are like that, actually.  Look at state agencies! 

I don't like people and they don't like me

It was a long weekend.  They always are.  Because of the trips for work each week, I usually have half or most of Friday off.  This week was no different so I went up to Askov with Jimmy for a long overdue visit to the farm.  Between band concerts in Superior, embarassing talks with his mother, and still being sick from the week, it was not the most pleasant stay imaginable in the Northland.  I came home to struggle with my dad to be able to work on my floor's door decortations in our living room.  I did get the new car, which is lovely if unnamed (strangely everyone asks if it has a name yet -- I'm thinking).  I went out and spent too much money on gas, cheesecake, and a movie with gals from high school.  The next day (Sunday) I decided it was high time to get to the beach.  Amanda, the Johns, and I went to Excelsior to swim off the point.  And that short bit of time was heavenly.  However, it was short as the others were hungry and thus we spent less than two hours there at all between walking and eating.  Sigh.  That evening I tried again to be social, only to be teased and part of my NEW car ripped off.  Amanda's boyfriend, Rory, who I thought (and still think probably) to be a nice guy, stole the hubcap to my car, ran with it, and then proceeded to tease me ala middle school while Amanda and her friend laughed at the situation.  How fun.  To those reading, do NOT steal any pieces of your friend's brand new car and then rip into someone.  It will only inspire entries like the following:
 
 
"I think I'm throwing the human interaction towel in. 
 
"Another weekend of trying to fit in left me feeling more than a bit empty.  There's simply no use in hovering around a desperate desire to find people with whom I feel more than a passing connection that doesn't inevitably fade into an awkward nothingness.  I look back at the defining points of my short and often trite life.  Photographs record little more than a brief moment in time, yet I surround myself, as if placing them in succession will somehow make the parade more complete.  But I see holes everywhere that I would wish to fill with meaning.  The people around me are most likely extraordinary, but we're surrounded in fog for as much as we realize it.    
 
"How is that people can be so downtrodden in a land of such plenty?"

back from the field

I haven't been blogging much lately due to the small amount of time I've had free in the office. Instead, I've been out in the field taking the lake samples that are constituting the better part of what's left of my time at the PCA. And I'm not complaining! I think that next time, I'll get better sunscreen and put it on right away to avoid the sunburn that it making it hard to move my shoulders currently. I will also try to even out the racerback tank tan (one pale stripe down my back that looks remarkably like a skunk). I think that I'll have the better part of Friday off this week, which means that it's time to hit the beach. Beach days (despite the numerous hours spent on the lakes) have been in pitiful supply this summer with the total at a whopping zero. I hope that it stays nice and that Jimmy and I could hightail it to somplace fun and relaxing. Next week will be full of more field work, this time up in Aitkin County. I hope that I can effectively fight off whatever cold or such I've caught that's making it hard to think or sit straight. There's still no update on my car. No one is sure what's wrong with it and it's been in a garage for nine days... It looks like I might be buying that 2001 Prizm. Who knows. Well -- happy midweek to everyone. Time for me to stop being such a slacker.

my car!

Wow -- I was looking at an article and was pleasantly suprised by some good environmental news. Paper recycling is at an all-time high in America. 50% of paper produced comes back to be recycled. That's awesome! Just more proof that education and awareness work pretty damn well to change public actions.

In case you can't tell, it's been a slow day at work. I only hit the environmental news sites as a final resort. I was supposed to spend two days looking over a lake report... needless to say I've read the 40 pages allotted and am sitting here dawdling. I haven't had an abundance of tasks to be completed at the PCA thus far, so it's not like I can fall back on some piece of work I was too busy to finish before.

I guess I ought to update everyone, eh? My car is most likely dying. She could be ok, but I don't think the chances are swell. She overheats, but her radiator is fine. That's never an omen of good things to come. It could be her head-gasket, it could be a cracked cylinder, or it could be a repair under the $2000 mark. My uncle, the car aficionado of the family, said cars ought to have their radiator fluid flushed from time to time. It prevents acid from building up and doing nasty things to one's engine. Apparently, my dad should've known to do this. So folks, do yourself a favor and flush that fluid! Even if My Antonia is ok for now, this could be the point at which to pass her on. I'll have a car at school (if NiNi ever bothers to writeup my permit request for the coffeehouse) for the next two years. Should I upgrade now that I've found a couple of sweetass deals? Is that selling out? At what point is it time to trade in your faithful compatriot of many happy years? I don't want to be the one to junk her. Besides, Civics are such notoriously good cars that I could easily get a lot of money to resell her, provided this head-gasket or cracked cylinder business blows over (hopefully not literally). I'm in car limbo. How is it that these vehicles become extensions of our personalities? Amanda would never dream of giving up the Cougar despite its atrocious safety and gas mileage because it's a damn cool car and it completes her music dreams. Grant loves his Blazer; like a good Buddhist, he didn't kill me when I backed into it. And then there's me. My Honda was my partner in crime: she's sleek and always dependable; has good gas mileage; was there for ever tear, peal of laughter, and explosion of loud Moulin Rouge, and I never really considered her mortality. One day or another, she'll kick the bucket. It might be kinder to both of us to pass her before I'd have to witness that day. Either way, there's something about your first car like there is about the first time you really fall in love: you take it with you wherever you go.

I feel like a toad

How much discretion should a blogger exercise? I feel like this handy little journal is an outlet for me in which to pour everything noteworthy (both good or bad)that happens. I don't try to be overly-dramatic, though I know that's a flaw inherent in myself. I ought to say nicer things about subjects like my home life, but it's really hard to half the time! Do you gloss over all the things that make you fret? I've lived in other places and I've certainly been in other homes. I think ours could improve in ambience and general comfort, but it's not anywhere near the bottom of the heap. It just is what it is. I get angry and frustrated; it just builds up with nowhere to go but here. I know every family has their problems and that some have more than their fair share. There must be others out there that have less to average everything out. My parents are well-intentioned and my mother is certainly aware of how depressed (and therefore difficult to live with) my dad can be. I guess that's all that matters. They want the best for Noah and I and they try their hardest to see it through. That's as much as any parents could do. And I in turn am trying to balance being as selfless as I can (*note: my abilities are sadly lacking) while not forgetting what I think are basic human rights when it comes to the domestic explosions that inevitably occur. I'm never perfect, or even close, but I've been trying for as long as I can remember to improve myself. I wish my parents, especially my dad, saw that so they could see that they really are doing a great job.

nothing welcomes you back to the office like a krispy kreme!

I've been up around Grand Rapids for the past three days doing lake sampling. You haul up a boat and a bunch of gear and hit lakes for about 11 hours in the day, going out to the deepest points, collecting data and samples. It was a swell time AND I learned how to drive a boat, along with a lot of other practical knowledge. I also put in 35 hours in the last 3 days, which means I only have to stay today until 1:30 and I have tomorrow off! My first weekday off since probably Easter. It feels real good. I think I'll drink spiked lemonade to celebrate [at home]. Today is treat day (always a favorite of mine) and there on the table, were Krispy Kremes. I don't want to think about calories or carbs. I just want to indulge and play the happy "I'll pretend this is good for me" game. Yum -- patriotic srinkles.

But I'll stop fancying colored bits of sugar for a moment. While up north, I couldn't help but realize how peaceful life was. The lakes are everywhere and most of them are of good quality. Driving a boat and seeing miles of blue ripples rush forward would have its appeal to even the blackest of anti-environmentalists. A lot of the towns we stopped in were quite small and conversation in the diners and cafes was fairly constricted. Still, there was a sense of being in no hurry and that's a fair tradeoff in my opinion. I was welcomed home by rush hour, hail, and rows of houses as far as the eye could see. Compared to beautiful oak savannas and naturally grown trees, it was a bit of a shock.

After that wore off, I turned to the upcoming delights of the 4th of July. For the first time in over four years, I won't have to work on the 4th. I'm positively giddy. I think I'll be in Northfield. I know that Jimmy, Meg and Grant will be, too. Is anyone else hanging around campus? I have three hours left of work... not including a lunch break. And, I've nearly finished a major project. The sky is blue. The lakes are clear. I'm a green and it's time to celebrate!

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.