Let's get this party started...

Like I did every year when I had a Livejournal (and once on my myspace, although I had to delete it because the head-nun found it online and asked me to remove it because of "inappropriate talk of masturbation"), I am going to recap 2009 in 42 questions. And while I have a tendency to hyberbolize responses in an effort to garner more laughter, you can take each answer with a grain of salt and sort out fact from fiction as you like.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before?

Travel-wise, I went to Boston. Other than that, everything was old hat.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I rocked my resolutions! Mainly, I wanted to get a job in Houston, find a place to live near my family and settle into a "new life" rather seamlessly. Done and done. AND I dropped 30 pounds between Christmas 2008 and Christmas 2009. Hello skinny pants...

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No, although the pressure for that person to be me is getting a little intense.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, no one close. As I get up in years, though, I'm afraid this one is about to change.

5. What countries did you visit?
Just America. Sadly, no hardcore travel in 2009. And as long as my "partner" refuses to get on a plane, I fear that my international travel is temporarily on hold, at least until I can get my hands on some good drugs and trick him into getting on a plane.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
A boyfriend the entire year. And rock-hard abs.

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Too many important dates to count. This was a big year of ups and downs, all of which are etched upon my memory.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting back into my skinny pants. And snagging a quality man.

9. What was your biggest failure?
New Years alone (as a way to celebrate my independence) was a pretty epic failure. Also being broke up with over a $325 dinner (that I paid for) wasn't quite a highlight of my year.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
My immune system is the shiz-nit. No problems there.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Things are not important to me. But the thousands of dollars I spent on booze to help me drown my sorrows and/or make a fun time even funner were probably a solid investment.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I don't really care about anyone but myself, and landing a kick-ass job and settling into my "new life" has been a pretty celebratory experience.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
People do what they must. Having my heart broken at the start of my "new life" wasn't so pleasant. But it all worked out in the end.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Moving. And Wendy (my car). I really could have done some awesome stuff with that $10,000, but alas, it was not meant to be.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Robert. I'm still really excited about that...

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Let My Love Open the Door by Pete Townshend

17. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?
Way happier. Thank baby jesus.

ii. thinner or fatter?
See #2 and #8

iii. richer or poorer?
See #14

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I do whatever I want, whenever I want. But, spending more time with my friends from LA before the move is probably something I wish I had done differently.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Less couch time. But it was good bonding for me and the kitty cats, so it wasn't without its perks.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
Woke up with Robert, went to 3 family functions, and ended up back at home with Robert. My Christmas day was a great little gift of its own, wrapped up nicely and tied off with a pretty little bow.

22. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Yes, twice. But only one took. And it's my favorite love ever.

23. How many one night stands?
None. My whoring days are over. I'm getting too old. If someone is looking for a one night stand they should probably choose someone younger and more flexible.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
I can't get enough of It's Always Sunny and The Office.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Life's too short to be a hater.

26. What was the best book you read?
How about the best 4 books I read: the Twilight saga.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Justin introduced me to a lot of quality music. And now that I'm dating someone who is kind of like a beatnik nuevo cowboy, I've had to get on board with The Doors. More than I ever thought I would.

28. What did you want and get?
A job, thinner thighs, a quality man...the list goes on and on. 2009 was pretty good to me.

29. What did you want and not get?
A raise.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
Too many movies to count. Many above par, but none that stand out as a new fav.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I got a job and spent the weekend in San Diego. Solid birthday weekend. I turned 29.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Nothing. It's been pretty freaking good (if you subtract August - the month of my heartbreak).

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
My fashion is all over the place. Business casual and sweats are my two basic styles of dress though.

34. What kept you sane?
Happy hour.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Tim Robbins, Clive Owen, Anderson Cooper, Anthony Bourdain, and Ryan Gosling. Same answer every year.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
I live in SheriLand where there are no political issues. I know...I am an ostrich. (answer stolen from my 2004 responses)

37. Who did you miss?
Rob, Mel, Beam, and JH. All my Buckley crew.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
For the first half of the year, I'd say Justin (although I officially met him in 2004). For the second half of the year, I'd say Robert (although I officially met him in 1995). Apparently I'm not meeting anyone new but instead re-establishing relationships with people from my past.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.
If you let yourself be vulnerable, you also allow yourself to truly feel. The "Sheri Show" is awesome for self-preservation, but not so much for personal growth.

40. What was the best thing to happen to the web this year?
I couldn't name just one thing. The internet rules. If I couldn't stalk people and/or research every thing that I question about life, I would be considerably less happy and informed.

41. Who did you steal this from?
Monica Shaw. In 2004.

42. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
I was lost. And I'm still lost. But I feel so much better.

Money, money, money. If I had a little money. It's a rich man's world.

In an effort to earn a little cash money before the holidays, and to motivate myself to do more than the minimum 8 hours of work a day, I have taken on a few "side jobs."

I started tutoring the 7th grader that lives below me. For the low, low price of $50 an hour, you, too, can be tutored by me, in my sweat pants, at my kitchen table. I figure the 33% discount I cut the family is a fair trade for the convenience and comfort of tutoring in my own home. An hour a week in exchange for a fair amount of money to cover booze for 7 days - yes please!

And after witnessing Dobie's Decathlon Team in action this past Friday, I felt a pang to get in on the action. Starting Sunday, I am the team's new Math Coach. I already have notes typed and copied, and a fairly solid plan of action to ready them for Region competition. "Ready to switch to the dark (public) side?" you ask. Nope. But willing to get in on some of the action that provided nearly the only satisfaction I received during the duration of my highschool career? Yes.

So mama's bringing home a little extra money these days. And thank sweet baby Jesus because I have been overspending my monthly income by about $50 every month since I moved back to this humid, godforsaken flat land. For someone with two degrees in math, you think I could manage my money a bit better. Suzie Orman would rip me a new one.

Happy Thursday.

And I know it will be an easy ride...

For the first time since I started my job in August, I totally have my act together.

Whenever you are a teacher, the first year is rough. The second year is also taxing, but every year after that is cake. Problem is, when you are like me, you have lots of "first years." This is my third "new" teaching job in 6 years. A "new" teacher has to build a curriculum: write notes and lessons, prepare homework solutions, and write appropriate tests and quizzes. And all of these tasks can be daunting and overwhelming. On a good day, I am two days ahead of the students. On a bad day, I am mere hours ahead. But right now, at this moment, I am almost completely planned through the end of the semester.

Score one for me.

This week has been exceptionally easy to boot. Three days of review for a test, and then test day today. Translation: 15 minutes of checking homework 5 times a day for 3 days, and then sitting at my desk for the entirety of the day today. It's been amazingly relaxing and has done wonders for my mental health.

"When it rains, it pours" the saying goes. I have found that this is true of good things as well as bad, and right now I'm in the middle of one of the best storms I've had in ages.

My job is going well. I am in a relationship that brings me more joy each day than the day before, and I am looking forward to the future possibilities that lay ahead, both personally and professionally. As the optimistic clothing/accessory company would say, "Life is good."

And it's supposed to snow this weekend.

Here's to hoping that I don't die in a icy-road accident on my 30 mile commute to or from work tomorrow. That would really put a damper on my happiness.

As my new friend Bob once said, "I've been waiting for Friday for two weeks." Peace out, Thursday.

Back in the saddle again...

Dating sucks. There's no denying it. And as you get older, it gets even worse. Most people my age have kids, are married (or divorced), and have put on a considerable amount of weight. Snagging a high-quality mate was starting to seem like a Herculean task. What was I going to do? Start internet-dating? No thank you.

And then it happened.

After months of building a friendship with someone I have known for over a decade, I realized that I was building more than simply a friendship. What I was building was a relationship.

While discussing our unplanned but satisfying union last night, the topic of how dating changes when you're 30 came up. No longer do you date on a whim. Time's a ticking. Every "boyfriend" is a much more likely contender for the title of "the one." No longer are looks that important. Sure, attractiveness is desired, but so is career, potential, income, and genetics. General usefulness around the house is also a plus. Can he cook? Can he fix things? Will he mind if I'm in my sweatpants at 5:30 in the evening? So many factors come into play that I never even considered 5 or 10 years ago.

The inverse relationship between age and dating pool is one that makes me question: do we reach a point where we just pick the best of what's left, or are we smarter and wiser in our dating decisions as we age? Am I more likely to "settle" because I'm getting older and the years in which I can conceive a child that does not run an inordinately high risk of having Downs Syndrome are waning? Or I am more aware of what will make me happy after many years of meeting people that, for some reason for another, just don't do it for me?

Do people eventually "settle" in lieu of living life alone? Am I settling? Does he feel like he is settling?

My answer to all of these is: I hope not. I can't afford a monthly membership to match.com anyway.

Here's to giving another relationship the good ol' college try.

For every breath, for every day of living - this is my Thanksgiving.

There's been this "thing" going around Facebook regarding giving daily thanks during the month of November. While I don't doubt that there are 30 things that I am thankful for, it's not quite my style to share my actual thanks with people that are mostly acquaintances or ex-students. If word got around that I actually have a soft side - a side that does things like "give thanks" and share feelings - my reputation would be ruined. And I absolutely can't have that happen.

So, in the spirit of "the Facebook challenge" but with a smaller, more intimate audience, I would like to officially declare my "thanks" of 2009.

I am thankful for the following:

• J and Danger - As a trial run to test out my maternal instincts, I don't think I've done too bad with them. If they are any indication of what having twin boys would be like, however, it looks like I'll have one stupid gay kid and one anti-social lazy-ass.
• Family - While I don't see them as much as I should (being within a 5 mile radius of them and all), it is nice to know that they're there. And the occasional free meals are pretty boss.
• Friends - Leaving behind my core group of friends in LA was devastating, and I haven't been the best at keeping in touch with them. But knowing that I once had such a strong support system of close friends is hope for the future. And I have a few friends here that are towing the line pretty solidly.
• Job - I am one of the few people I know who has TWICE moved without knowing that a job was waiting at the destination. And while technically I got my current job before I trekked cross-country, I did put in my notice and begin the process of relocation before I even had a hint of a job. So I'm pretty thankful for my stellar good luck in the employment department.
• Health - As bad as I have been to my body, this has been a great year for me. Not only did I lose 30 pounds, but my glucose, cholesterol, bmi, and blood pressure are all within healthy ranges. And although I almost completely chopped off the side of my pinky, it's healed well and I am still whole. Success.

And while I am listing things I am thankful for, let's not forget the little things that make each day bearable:

• On-Demand - I can't rave about it enough. Genius.
• Cheez-Its - Quite possibly the best in-bed snack ever.
• Happy Hour - What would motivate to work all week if I didn't think a sweet, tasty beverage was waiting for me on Friday?
• Mix CDs - I received 10 quality mix cds this year, all which have a guaranteed spot in my daily music rotation.
• Healthy Choice - Takes all of the guess work out of what to eat for lunch.
• 8th graders - They're pretty cute, and super respectful. Now if they would just hit puberty, their voices might be tolerable.
• Internet - Seriously, what would I do with, like, 3 hours of each day if I couldn't stalk people online or google ridiculous questions I have?
• Snuggling - Not as overrated as I once believed.

And while I am sure that there are infinitely more things to be thankful for, right now I'm just thankful to be alive, and that I only have one more day of work this week.

Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run...

I get really depressed in the winter. Not depressed like I want to slit my wrists, but depressed like all I want to do is sit on my couch in my sweatpants and be a hermit. I associate winter with loneliness, although it's not always and altogether negative.

My first winter in New York was the worst. I was newly single after a whirlwind first semester with a college romance and a bustling social life. I felt horribly alone in a city with very few friends, and was seriously contemplating transferring schools and coming back home. So, I sat at my desk by the window in my dorm and worked - constantly - while listening to Elton John and Billy Joel and feeling terribly sorry for myself. I was at least a week ahead in all of my classes. But as productive as I was, I was incredibly unhappy.

When the cold sets in, I unconsciously revert back to those memories. My first winter away from home is the hardest one to forget. And while each winter I try to create new memories associated with the cold, hoping the new synapses in my brain will overpower the old, I cannot help but think back to that cold and lonely winter of 1999, which isn't so terribly different from most of my winters since. And that's was most depressing.

Sigh.

4...3...2...1

I almost killed a handful of kids today. No joke.

I have been feeling uncharacteristically stressed these days, and it's really starting to take a toll on me. Between trying to predict the math budget for next year, establishing a "core curriculum" in each class offered by the school, and accomplishing the general day-to-day requirements of being a teacher, I am feeling the mental and physical effects of stress unlike any I have felt in years.

And today was the breaking point.

For those of you that think that teaching is what people do when they can't "make it," keep a few things in mind. First, my lessons are all hand-crafted. There is no "big bank" of lessons to pull from, or notes to steal off the internet. I painstakingly handcraft each of my lessons, complete with handouts and an interactive white board flipchart. Second, I put thought into how I teach a concept. I bait the students with rhetorical questions until they come up with the theorem or rule. I try to teach them to learn through exploration and questioning.

So when a group of students won't stop asking questions, or commenting about someone's questions, or shouting out random shit, it makes it impossible for me to get to the punchline. I can't teach if I never get a chance to talk interrupted.

::Breathe::

After only getting through half of my lesson in 40 minutes, especially when I accomplished the task in 35 minutes three prior times today, I took matters into my own hands. I contacted the parents.

God bless the parents. They have emailed me (one even stopped by my classroom) to apologize and to say that they are going to take care of it on their end. They say that they support me in whatever discipline route that I choose to take, and that they want to know if there is anything in the future they can do to help me out.

So although they can't help me with my budget, or my curriculum, or devising and typing my daily notes, at least I know that this matter is hopefully one of the past.

And maybe tomorrow I won't have to cackle like a crazy person in lieu of losing my cool and throwing things at the kids' heads. Yes, I cackled. And yes, I'm sure it was quite frightening.

It's a kind of magic...

Yesterday I embarked upon a mini "road-trip" with three crazy ladies (mom, aunt, and granny). The destination: Victoria. The purpose: a Celebration of Life.

I don't do well at funerals. To be completely honest, I am usually a mess. And I've never lost anyone close to me. The fact that I lose control of my emotions so easily at funerals makes me never want to attend them. But a Celebration of Life - the anti-funeral - is something I can definitely get on board with.

The sun shone brightly. The air was crisply comfortable. The park served as the ideal location for the planting of symbolic oak trees. Relatives gave speeches regarding the qualities the deceased possessed. Sure, it was sad. But discussion regarding how one's life has, and will continue, to positively affect the lives of others was uplifting. The Celebration took the loss associated with death and transformed it into a collection of memories associated with life.

When I die, which will hopefully be later rather than sooner, I hope that my family and friends will do something similar. If I had my way, my body would be buried in the middle of nowhere sans embalming chemicals and grow one with the earth. Return to whence I came, I say. But since it's illegal, maybe scattering my ashes on a wind farm is a better idea.

Nonetheless, I hope that after I'm gone I, too, will be celebrated for my memories and not mourned for what could have been. Life is brief. And fleeting. And we can't change that. What we can do is to come together and share in the knowledge that we're all changed because of the deceased and the legacy left behind.

It was a beautiful ceremony. And I think Dale would have approved of how his life was remembered - how it was celebrated.

And we all float on...

Tomorrow I'm doing something very unlike me.

For the 6 years that I have been teaching, I have taken only a handful of days of vacation. And maybe only 1 or 2 sick days. I never get ill, and honestly, the amount of "catch-up" work required from being out often negates the day off. There have been very few occasions that have been grand enough to warrant taking time off, especially if your employer pays you for vacation days not taken.

Well, my new employer does not have such a policy, and I really want to take advantage of the "limitless" days of paid leave they offer.

So, tomorrow I am taking a "mental health" day.

The one woman at work that I feel even remotely close to is going through a "thing." She has a lot on her plate and is not processing it particularly well. She took off this entire week to tend to some medical and legal matters, but will (hopefully) be returning next week with a renewed sense of self and a revitalization for her job.

I decided to take a day off so that she and I could hang out, like we always talk about but never actually follow through with.

I am meeting her at 10:45 for tea, and then we will have lunch, and then the crafting begins.

Honestly, I am quite looking forward to taking time for myself to do the things that bring me joy. I spend so much time working hard and playing hard that I never relax in a productive way. And I want to be a better friend to her. Lord knows I would be miserable without her guidance and listening ear.

So no 4:45 alarm for me tomorrow. It's all about enjoying the day and the company. And I think it might be just what I need.

I'm free, to do what I want, any ol' time...

By a miracle of God, I got my work done by 7:30 am.

I have this new lifestyle. This college-esque work hard, party hard weekend mentality. While it's my mental and emotional savior, it really put in a chink in the chain of my productivity. Both Friday and Saturday nights (er, Saturday and Sunday mornings) I went to bed around 5 am. I awoke around 1:30 pm. "Crazy," you say? "Un-Sheri-like?" Why, yes. But this seems to be my new weekend trend.

And yesterday around 2, I was faced with a massive amount of work that had to be done, both because of actual deadlines and the fact that I had to teach today and had nothing prepared. I worked at a snail's pace for a good number of hours, and still there was a mountain of work with a "To-Do" tag and both hours and energy waning.

So what did I do? I got up at 3:45 this morning and got to school at exactly 5:30. I was officially the first person on campus. And with good reason. I'm apparently crazy.

But between 5:30 and 7:30 this morning, I was more productive than I've been in days. I prepped lessons for my classes, made copies, wrote 15 student reports, and made a list of all of the things I need to accomplish this week.

Maybe my mom's right. Maybe I am a master procrastinator. But "master" is the only word I'm focusing on in that phrase.

I have no intentions of giving up my crazy weekend hours. At least not yet. I need them to feel alive and to feel young. And there's not a lot that's doing that for me these days, so I'll take it when I can get it.

This does mean, however, that I will be going to bed tonight before most senior citizens.

C'est la vie.

No more words...

When you pay tens of thousands of dollars to send your children to private school, you can be assured of a few things. One, that their teachers will be awesome, and two, that you will not only get a report card with letter and number grades, but you will also get a report card with words. And by words, I mean a detailed breakdown of why your child scored the marks he/she did.

This is the worst part of teaching children whose parents pay tens of thousands of dollars to send them to school.

By Monday morning, I must have 65 of these "reports" written. For each student I teach, I have to write multiple paragraphs about their performance. I have to use academic language and complex sentence structure, and each one needs to be personalized (no form letter, unfortunately). To say that this takes a while is an understatement. To say that I would rather cut off phalanges is more accurate. In the end, it will take about 2-3 hours per class to do this. And I teach 5 classes.

So right now I hate my life more than usual. My typical "take no work home" mantra has been temporarily discarded for fear of not completing this biannual process.

At least while at home I can ingest a cocktail or two to help the words flow freely through my fingertips. I just have to make sure I don't spill any whiskey on my keyboard.

Happy Thursday.

All the roads we have to walk are winding...

I try, everyday, to feel blessed about my life. I try to recognize the multitude of instances in my existence where, if things would have turned out differently, my life (as I know it) would be completely unrecognizable.

In a lot of respects, I am amazingly lucky.

My move to Houston has been bittersweet. And I'm not shy to admit that. But in a lot of ways, I feel like I have been reinventing myself far too often. But is this it for me? Is this the final stop on the Sheri-World-Tour? I can't commit to anything that huge. And I'm definitely not ready to commit to this humidity.

When I'm not working, I feel lost. Now, don't think that I'm a workaholic. As my mom would tell it, I'm the uber-procrastinator that only gets things done after incessant nagging from her. But that's not true at all. Maybe about life, but not about work. I take my job very seriously. Problem is, it's probably the only thing I have going on that's "serious". And I don't even think I'm doing that well at it. I'm a great teacher, and the students seem to really like me, but there are only a handful of relationships I've formed at my workplace. After Buckley in LA, this is quite the change for me.

You tend to go a little "loca en la cabeza" when you spend your whole day talking to 14 year-olds.

But I digress (as if I even have a point to this...).

All around me I see life and death. Marriages and babies. But all from the periphery. For being close to 30, sometimes I feel like I haven't experienced anything at all. And yet, sometimes, I feel like I have already lived a lifetime in these 29 years.

So I'll wake up tomorrow at 4:30 and get to school by 6:30, before anyone else arrives, and try (once again) to be optimistic about my new life. Some days it's easier than others. And sometimes, I just feel like I wish I was 12 and I had all the time (and hope) in the world.

You go down the longest road to nowhere. You pull it apart and you're just left there

I am finishing up a 3-day weekend. And yet somehow, it seems like it has been much longer than that.

Many aspects of my life have taken a whole new turn. I'm forming friendships. I'm strengthening existing friendships. I'm having meaningful and thoughtful conversations with people, and learning to listen, and to empathize, with others.

A thought that I have often is "the smarter you are, the harder it is to be happy." I have wrestled with this idea for years. For nearly 15 years, as a matter of fact. As the years pass, I believe it to be more and more true. The more life that I live and the more that I experience, the harder it is for me to accept the idea that my ONE existence will ever be enough. I wish I had multiple life times to do everything that I feel will enrich me as a person, and to help me grow to understand and learn about the world.

But as I become older, and as I become more and more jaded about various aspects of my future, I focus on the things that I CAN control, and the things that I hope people say about me after my time on earth is up.

I just want to be a good person.

For years I lived my life selfishly. And I still battle with this quite often. Trying to accomplish things or to experience things by any means possible was my goal. "Do not let anyone, or money, get in the way of what you want." Well, I haven't. And I can't say that I'm better or worse off for it.

But as I settle into a routine here in my new life, with new people as my "rocks" and "shoulders," I want to refine my strategy.

I wish I always knew what to say. I wish that I could help heal the wounds of those around me. I wish that I had all, or any, of the answers. I wish that I could take away the pain, and stress, and sadness of the people in my life. My new strategy is to try to be there for people when they need me, to try to be a better friend, to try to help people realize their strengths, and to help them with their weaknesses. I want to be dependable, and helpful, and optimistic. I want to give my time, my thoughts, and my energy freely to those that need it, and to work on deriving my happiness from just being a good person.

It's hard for me to see the people around me suffer. I hope that in this new life, in my new life here, I can help ease that suffering. At least a little bit.

This is dedicated to all of the people, over the years, who have been this person for me. I thank you all. I owe you everything.

I remember when I lost my mind...

Sometimes I wonder who I am. Not the deep, philosophical question we often pose when trying to reevaluate ourselves. I did that recently. I'm over it.

No, I'm talking about how, sometimes, it seems like there's something that's taken over my body. Like there's an inebriated driver at the helm of my brain, and he's steering me off my course.

I think I'm going nuts.

I can't eat. I have zero appetite, and don't have the desire to consume anything. I'm normally so structured in my eating habits that my students joke, "It's almond time, isn't it?" every day around 10:30. But not anymore. After I consumed nothing yesterday (with the exception of two meal replacements shakes that I forced myself to drink), I finally forced down a Healthy Choice meal for lunch. Other than that? Nada. And no hunger pangs in sight.

I can't sleep. Granted, my Ambien is taking longer than I had hoped to be processed through my insurance company and I am simply waiting for it to arrive in the mail like a sweet package from a dear old friend. But nonetheless. Over the last 4 days I have tried every combination you can imagine: booze, booze and sleep aids, sleep aids and allergy pills. And NOTHING works. I have gotten so little sleep since Friday that I feel like I'm in college again: hoping for 6 hours and settling for 4.

I just cleaned my apartment. In my work clothes. Including tights. And dangly earrings. I scrubbed toilets. I did laundry. I vaccuumed the couch (it's a cat hair thing).

It's 9 pm and I'm wide awake, and I'm trying to figure out who this is. Because it isn't me.

This "new Sheri" is quite productive, though. Maybe tomorrow she'll clean my car.

Hold on loosely...

For the first time in a long time, I'm actually doing okay. Recent events have left me more optimistic about my life, and more ready and willing to welcome this here and present change with open arms.

School is still challenging. The students are still pre-pubescent and the sound of their shrill voices sometimes makes me want to gouge out my eyeballs. But on a whole, they're definitely the high point of my day. I don't know what that says about my day, but it speaks volumes about my decision to be a teacher. It's not what I wanted, but it sure does make me happy.

And, unfortunately, that's about it. No new movies. No new books. Just me and my cats. But now I have a better outlook. And I know that's better than nothing at all.

It just takes some time, little girl, you're in the middle of the ride

This weekend, after a month and a half of reading 30 min - 1 hour each day, I finally finished Atlas Shrugged. At 1068 pages with print the size of Biblical text, it is the largest literary undertaking thus far of my existence. And I have to say, I quite enjoyed it.

Ayn Rand, known mostly for The Fountainhead, does not separate her beliefs from her fiction. In fact, nearly every word of her texts unquestionably promotes her disdain for a communist or socialized society, and instead advocates objectivism.

Objectivism is the philosophy developed by the Russian-American philosopher and novelist, Ayn Rand (1905–1982). Objectivism holds that reality exists independent of consciousness; that the proper moral purpose of one's life is the pursuit of one's own happiness or rational self-interest; that the only social system consistent with this morality is full respect for individual rights, embodied in pure laissez faire capitalism.

While many of my friends greatly object to her ideas and philosophies, there were quite a lot of sub-plot lines with which I was able to get on board. She believes that the government should not support those who refuse to contribute to society, and that governmental "hand-outs" promote the weak for being weak and harm the successful, contributing members of society.

While I am a huge fan of nationalized health-care, I agree with Rand's idea that you are entitled to nothing simply by existing.

Now, my beliefs on this matter are largely related to what I have experienced . Namely, within my familial structure, there exists 1 person who is taking advantage of governmental programs (does not work, lives on welfare, food stamps, etc.), and 1 person who is unable to work (but desperately wishes to) who lives on Disability and Medicaid. I support people who wish to work, or have done so when physically able, but I do NOT condone those who simply use taxpayers money because it's "free and easy."

Beliefs aside (and anyone who knows me knows that I know NOTHING about politics, and don't profess to have too many beliefs, in general), this book was an interesting read, most notably because it was Rand's last work first published in 1957. Concerns that she had then are still alive and provoking debates over 50 years later.

More than anything, I'm really proud that I finally read this book. It's been on "my list of things to do" for many years now. Finishing it feels quite good. And I truly liked it, although I have little desire to argue about its content.

Now for another book. This time I'm going to choose something that doesn't have a 50 page, 3 hour long speech in it, though.

If you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need...

Starting tomorrow, I will begin my 6th year of teaching. It sounds crazy when I say it like that.

I never wanted to be a teacher. The saying, "those who can't do, teach," is something that I always took as truth. Failing to get a "real" job made you a prime teacher - the low pay was your penalty for being "inadequate." Not that I ever thought this about anyone, but I definitely thought it about myself.

When I first told my mother that I wanted to be a teacher, her response was, "Well please tell me you're not going to teach highschool!" - implying that if I taught anything lower than college I was wasting my time and my talents.

So here I am, six years later, and I'm still a bit embarrassed to answer the get-to-know-you question of, "so...what do YOU do?" I wish that in one word, I could say "teacher" but mean "I hold 3 degrees, NONE in education, making my earning potential quite high by all standards, but find it quite fulfilling to instill a love of math into young students who might otherwise hate the subject and not see it's beauty." Unfortunately, such a single word that says all that does not exist in English. Maybe in German...

It's hard feeling like you have let yourself down. I feel like that almost daily - both in career choice and in personal relationships (or lack thereof). When I say that I am not where I thought I would be at 30, what I mean is that I thought I would a successful, upper middle-class woman with a husband and kids in the near future. I'm none of those things. I am exactly like I was at 24, only with more wisdom, compassion, and insight. And cats.

What I do know, though, is that I love teaching. I love forming relationships with students that last throughout the years. I like watching kids grow and mature, both in life and in mathematics. I love the look of the mathematical epiphany that students wear so proudly when they finally "get it." I love it that kids think I'm the "cool" teacher, and that they come to me for advice. I like that my students take an interest in me as a person instead of just "that old lady" in front of the class that barks mathematical jargon for x minutes of the day.

I still wrestle with my pride of job title. But I think it's waning each year.

Whatever I lack in my life is always made up for in the classroom, and that's what gets me up in the morning.

I know my mom is proud of me, even if I am "just a teacher." And for those that claim that I teach because I failed in industry...well, my job is endlessly more rewarding than receiving a certificate and a raise for a job well done. I get years of thanks from the future leaders of tomorrow. And that makes up for the piss-poor pay. Well...almost :)

Here I go again on my own...

When I was 22, I enrolled in Netflix, per my friend Monica's suggestion. In 2004, after a devastating break-up, I embarked upon "200 Movies in 2004" - a personal goal meant to distract me from my fledgling personal life.

For the last 6 years, movies have been my refuge. Like my grandmother who religiously reads obituaries to feel happy to be alive, I watch independent films for both distraction and as a comparison for my own life. By watching movies, I am often able to think, "hey, at least my life isn't that bad."

Like a friend through miles and years that never lets you down, Netflix is, once again, my savior.

While most twenty-somethings spend their Saturday nights out at bars, my life is a little more lame. Luckily, Clive Owen is equally as satisfying as a Maker's and Coke.

Croupier is a film about a writer who takes a job as a croupier (dealer) at a small London casino. While he clings tightly to the desire to earn an honest living, he gets caught up with various individuals - both croupiers and punters (gamblers) - and has to make a moral decision about a lucrative offer presented to him.

While Clive Owen is #2 on my Top 5 List, this movie definitely is not. The build of the film is a little unclear, and the "lucrative offer" is presented in a very casual and de-emphasized way. I found myself confused about the climax, and quite disappointed by the denouement.

Maybe the painkiller I took before laying down to watch this film negatively affected my ability to process its storyline, but I don't think understanding movies with simplistic plot lines should be work. And this one was. I give it a 3 out of 5. Even with the eye-candy.

* * *

The routine of the school year is nearly upon me. I have been in meetings for the last week and have 5 more days of meetings until Opening Day. I awake around 6 and leave my house around 7. I get home around 4:30 and immediately head out to the gym. I arrive home for the evening at about 6:30, and then I pass my time on my couch, with my cats and Netflix, until I fall asleep at 10:30.

My life is disgustingly boring and mundane. But hey, I've done this so many times it's old hat. I'm pretty good at being alone, even if it's not preferable.

Bring on the movie and the Cheez-Its...

Wow...my life kinda blows

After two years of being single, I finally snagged a man. "Awesome," I thought. "We have such a great time together. He makes me laugh, and he makes the best mix CDs ever."

Well...like most things in my life, it didn't last.

Torn between anger and sadness, I went through the myriad of questions and thoughts that one typically does when faced with such a devastating (and ego-crushing) blow. What could I have done differently? What's wrong with me? If this wasn't it (which I really thought it was), then what is? Did I even matter to him? Why me?

Thanks to my long commute, I had time to think about these things. And while this chapter is officially closed, I have yet to determine its afterword.

What I do know, is that it WASN'T me. For possibly the first time in my dating career, I think I played it all by the book. I was understanding. I wasn't needy. I did everything I could to make this work. I was generous, and I was thoughtful. Most importantly, for the first time in a long time, I let myself be vulnerable.

The hardest thing to answer, though, is the "what's wrong with me" question. My mother, of course, tells me that I can't ask myself those types of questions. That there's nothing wrong with me. I'm perfect. But I can't help but wonder how, at 29, I am single with no prospects in sight.

It's hard to go from being really content to completely devastated in the same day. I know that I deserve happiness. I hope that sometime, in the not so distant future, I might actually find it.

Until then, I am going to curse my vulnerability and cry with only my cats (and possibly the strangers at the gym) as witnesses.

Don't stop believin'

Spending hours in a hospital really gets a person to thinking about life...and death. I faced my own impending doom years ago, made peace with the world, and waited for my demise. It (obviously) didn't come. What happened, however, was that I was reminded of the fragility of life and the pleasure of simply existing. Life is a gift! Live every day as if it were an adventure, never pass up an opportunity to try something new, and be good to yourself and those around you.

Well, as I often do, I'm trying once again to be good to MYSELF, and to really work to preserve this "temple" that is my one and only body.

I've had low blood pressure and a high resting heart rate for years. Sure, I sometimes feel weak or dizzy. And yes, I've been kicked off cardio machines at the gym many times because my heart rate was at "unhealthy" levels, but I never did much research into the possible causes/cures of this seemingly unimportant glitch in my genetic make-up.

After testing my blood pressure yesterday and getting a reading of 99/60-something, I realized that now is the time to nip this in the bud. I've really got to start being healthier. I'm nearing 30 and my body is only going to be less forgiving as time goes on. Over the last calendar year I have lost roughly 27 pounds through dieting, and now I am beginning a work-out regimen to hopefully increase my muscle mass and decrease my embarrassing BMI. But the heart rate and blood pressure...what about those?

After doing some research on the wonderful interweb, I found out a lot of interesting facts. Long story short - beetroot is going to be my savior. But how does one ingest beetroot, in the most vitamin and nutrient filled way? Juicing. And what do I need to make the best, least wasteful home juices? The BEST JUICER EVER.

So I've been hunting online, reading reviews, and comparing specs of numerous at-home juicing machines. Although I have a soft-spot in my heart for the Jack LaLanne Power Juicer, I am leaning towards the Breville Juice Fountain. This item WILL be mine this week. And I WILL begin juicing. Beetroot + exercise + better diet - alcohol = Healthier Sheribomb.

Let's pray I don't die of heat stroke before my transformation.

Got brass in pocket...

How do you update a blog with both so little and so much to say, simultaneously?

Justin's visit was enjoyable - filled with drag races, expensive dinners, driving to Dallas in the rain, and a marathon game night that ended with a sad loss on my part in Scrabble.

It's hard, though. And as much of a front that I put up, it still isn't easy. I've had a great life, filled with great people and awesome experiences (and hopefully many more to come), but somehow I feel as if the universe is conspiring against me ever actually being completely happy. Pity party for 1, please. I know...just ignore me.

It's my last weekend before I start the seemingly endless weeks of meetings, and then school officially begins. I'm hoping that school is both a distraction and an enjoyment. If this doesn't work out, I might take up competitive eating. Or roller derby.

Let's get physical...

It's hard to find motivation to write in a blog that nobody reads. I know it's supposed to be cathartic; you know, more of an exercise for my own sanity than for your enjoyment. Somehow, however, I'm not finding any motivation to write or anything of value about which to write.

I started working out yesterday.

My relationship with working-out and dieting has been much like the other relationships in my life. I know what's good for me, yet I don't always do it. Working out and eating healthy is actually something that I can do quite well - with the right concentration. If I plan out my exercises, and portion out my meals with eating times, it becomes a routine that's easy for me to follow. My OCD tendencies greatly support a lifestyle filled with routine and plans. Unfortunately, so far this summer, routine and plans have been greatly lacking in my existence. No more, I say.

Yesterday I met with a trainer for my "orientation" and to discuss my goals (in the gym, not in my life). The goals are all quite reasonable, and culminate with my 30th birthday. The idea is that if I can look as good at 30 as I did at 20, then I'm on my way to a great new chapter - the "hot and thirty-something" chapter. After an hour of working out and sweating in all of the embarrassing parts, I realized that I am considerably weaker than I thought. My attitude, however, was quite optimistic, and because of that I think my goal is reachable.

Today will be my first day working out on my own (although I'm hoping to get my aunt in on the schedule). I'm working out chest, shoulders, and triceps, and I have specific set, reps, and rest times set. I also have a Moleskine dedicated to recording which exercises I do and the weights I use - both to track my progress and to alleviate the "what weight should I set this at" confusion on the machines.

Here's to hoping that it goes well, that Susie is on board, and that I start seeing results sooner rather than later. I need to fit into my size 6 work pants before school starts, otherwise I'm going bottomless, and I don't think that's a good way to start off at a new job.

Happy Tuesday.

Them is fightin' words...

Last night, after a brief discussion about commitment, Justin commented on his desire to know "how we fight" as a gauge to our longevity as a couple. I tried to explain that I don't really fight (except with my mother), but rather like to talk things out rationally and honestly try to see the other party's point of view. While I often like to play devil's advocate in many debatable circumstances, there are very few issues where I am unwavering and unyielding in my position or beliefs. Let's be honest - I just don't care enough about that many things to fight over them. I'd rather keep the peace and be swayed by a convincing argument.

Justin seemed convinced that in order to be a solid and long-lasting couple, we had to fight well. And before he could commit to the idea of "us" in the long-term, he needed to see this fighting in action. I disagreed.

But that got me to thinking: what does fighting say about a couple? Can a couple be successful without fighting, or is this a pipe dream implanted into young girls' heads along with the white-picket-fence and 2.5 children ideal?

After a brief voyage on the information highway, I found a few interesting articles.

On And They Lived Happily Ever After, although they use marital fights as the topic of discussion, they point out a few key points that are valid for couples old and new, married and dating. They reiterate my point that personality types, not topics, are often the cause of fighting. A strong personality with convicted beliefs is considerably more likely to instigate or get caught in the middle of a verbal battle with their partner.

The nauseatingly named website also points out that even getting into a fight with your partner shows your interest in having a valid and open relationship. Why would you put yourself into a tense situation if you didn't trust your partner's opinion and value the relationship? You wouldn't. The woman would nod and smile, as a good woman should, and take a submissive position. Fighting back means there is something worth fighting for, even if "fighting" is simply expressing a difference of opinion or feelings of anger.

Lastly, they point out that incessant fighting is the result, not cause, of a poor relationship. People don't break-up because they fight; they fight because they are unhappy or unsatisfied, and ultimately break-up for those reasons. Constant fighting is merely the symptom, not cause, of an unsuccessful union.

Wanting a second opinion, I consulted the ultimate couples therapist, Dr. Phil (I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth). While I often take what he says with a grain of salt, and never listen to any advice his ill-educated wife has to offer, he did have a few gems of wisdom - I call them "gems" because they strike me as being in line with my own thoughts on the matter.

He states that healthy, loving couples, argue more with a solution in mind than a winner/loser declaration at the fights end. Loving someone means you want them to be happy, even if that means quietly and patiently listening to their side, and trying to find some middle-ground with your own ideas.

Philly also says that whether a couple fights "dirty" or not is an indication of the longevity of a relationship. Is there name-calling involved? Does one party keep bringing up past events as a way to produce holes in the other's argument? As he says, are you looking for an assassination or a solution as the end result?

In the end, Justin and I were both right. While fighting does often determine the stability and health of a relationship, it's the goal and the process of the fight or argument which should be examined.

As the old adage goes, it's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.

Dammit! I really wanted to be right about this one...

Movin' on up

So I've been a bit delinquent in my blog updates as of late. But I've been driving 1600+ miles and moving in. I think I deserve some leeway...

Let's recap, shall we?

Friday, June 26, Mel and I (along with J and Danger) set off on our great American 1/2 Cross-Country road trip. Night 1 was spent in Tucson. After a boring drive through New Mexico (although a decent lunch at El Comedor in Las Cruces) we stayed in Fort Stockton, Texas. Oddly enough, we stayed in the same motel that my father and I stayed in 5 years ago on the trek out to California. I love tying up chapters with nice little bows. But I digress.

On Sunday we traveled only a few hundred miles to San Antonio, where we decided to get in a bit of site seeing. We had some margaritas at Mi Tierra at Market Square, and then many more margaritas later on at Rita's on the River Walk. Mel was able to reconnect with a high school friend from Visalia, and I got to listen to their high school stories and recaps. It was actually quite interesting.

On Monday, June 29, we left San Antonio at an un-Godly 6:00 am and made it to my new apartment approximately 45 minutes before the moving van arrived. Everything was unloaded in a pseudo-timely manner, and I begrudgingly handed over my check for $4400 (I was quoted $3200, but that's yet another annoying speed-hump in the road of my life). The drive was long, and Wendy's check-engine light was on nearly the whole time. But we made it. And no one had to throw a cat out the window in the process.

Melanie left on Wednesday, July 1. It's been me vs. the boxes ever since.

While I have very slowly been unpacking and organizing said boxes, the highlight of my Texas adventure so far has been the massive amounts of time I have been able to spend with my family already: cocktails with Aunt Susie, only part of which she remembers ;), swimming with Granny, building furniture with Richard, dinner with my dad, Colleen, and Rachel, and unpacking boxes with my mom. I wouldn't say it's been a family overload. It's just been nice to spend unrushed time with my amazing family - something that I haven't really been able to do in 11 years.

So now I'm sitting in my office/spare bedroom, where a cat is perched directly between my keyboard and monitor, and whose tail keeps hitting me as I type.

This is my new life. And this is my family. Furry children included. It almost feels like home.

Time's Tickin' Away

If John Hendricks were here, he'd say, "Oh God, Sheribomb, it's your last Sunday in California." And he's right. It's coming down to the wire here.

After an amazing 4 days in Boston and 1 day on my couch with a chest cough and a codeine induced lethargy, the stress finally hit me this morning. At 5:30 am.

The movers are coming either Wednesday or Thursday, and although I am saving the kitchen for them to pack, I have decided to do the rest myself in an effort to conserve some Benjamins. So before the sun even came up, I was being productive and getting a plan of action in place.

What I always forget about moving is what a pain in the ass it is to move the "little stuff." It's not hard to pack books, or CDs, or clothes even. What I abhor packing, however, are the odds-and-ends one acquires through life that can't easily be separated into its own box with its own simple title. Knick knacks, candle holders, and various seasonal items are the worst. So are the endless supplies of fancy gift boxes and bags that I have been given that are just too cute not to pass on in the future. And while I've been well above board in my Goodwill donations, there is also a large amount of "stuff" that didn't make the final cut and have ended up in my dumpster.

I would like to say that I'm "almost done," but because I've done this whole moving thing a number of times, I know that the final items are the most tedious to pack. So conservatively I'll say I'm halfway done.

Tomorrow will, hopefully, prove to be just as successful today. In addition to packing, I need to get an oil change and car wash, go to the Vet, and head up to school one last time to pick up a few forgotten items from my classroom as well as return this laptop upon which I am currently writing.

It's the home-stretch people, and I'm really ready just to be done with this whole nonsense already.

Happy Father's Day!

Let's get this party started

My productive Sunday turned out to be, well, anything but.

While I managed to do 45 minutes worth of dishes (did I tell you how thankful I will be to have a dishwasher for the first time in 4 years?), that is about where my productivity ended for the day.

Around lunch time I decided to eat, and eating requires television. More specifically, I thought to myself, a netflix movie. It will only take an hour and a half, I told myself, and put it in and settled in on my couch.

Netflix recommended the movie "Bella" to me, and like all Netflix recommendations, I accepted.

Bella is the story of Nina, who recently found out she is pregnant and subsequently fired from her job because of morning sickness tardies, and Jose, a pro-soccer hopeful who is the head chef at Nina's workplace. Their paths cross when, upon hearing that Nina has been fired, Jose takes off after her to find out why she is late to work and, ultimately, takes it upon himself to be her "shoulder" for the day.

It's a story about letting down your guard and trusting a stranger, and looking at all possibilities when given an unfortunate situation.

I happily give it a 4 out of 5 stars. Plus the lead is uber-attractive (minus the homeless-man beard he sports for 95% of the film).

Anyway, halfway through the film my dear friend Melanie texted me to tell me that my long-lost friend Kristi (with family in tow) was over at her house swimming.

Well, I never pass up the opportunity to see dear friends, especially when they bring their children who are, quite possibly, the most awesome children on the planet (Zoe, Ian, and Tyler make my top ten list of people under 5'). And while I didn't intend to swim, I eventually gave into the peer pressure and sported one of Melanie's bikinis, complete with legs that haven't been shaved for weeks.

Gotta love your true friends.

So now the night is wrapping up and I'm hoping that more productivity is had tomorrow. And if not, well, it's Boston for me for the next few days, so packing will have to wait. Again.

Only one more weekend left in California. Let's see if the next is as quality as this one was.

Timelines and Deadlines

So it's official: the next two weeks of my life are going to be insane. But I did it to myself. And honestly, I quite like the pressure of filling everyday with a list of want-to-do's and need-to-do's.

To break it down for you, here is the timeline of events in Sheriland:

June 13:

• 1 - 5 Graduation
• 5 - ? Graduation Party

June 14:

• Pack and discard

June 15:

• Pack and discard
• Fly to Boston

June 16 - 19:

• Visit and celebrate with Justin in Bean-town

June 20 - 24:

• Pack and prepare for movers to arrive

June 24:

• Movers arrive and finish packing, as well as load and begin the transport of all of my belongings

June 26 - 30

• Drive to Houston with Melanie, J, and Danger (my cats)

June 30:

• Arrive at my new/old home

I'm not so stressed about the front end of this deal, but between June 20 - 24 I will be a nutcase. And I'll be pre-menstrual, so you might want to be extra nice to me.

Happy Saturday.

TMI

I get a lot of traits from my mother. My OCD tendencies clearly come from her, which clearly come from Granny. My independence comes from my mom, as well as the overwhelming feeling that I "don't need a man for anything."

What also comes from my mother, however, is my incessant nagging and my desire to be the keeper of all information. I have the desire to know ALL of the details about EVERYTHING. I don't want to be left in the dark. And if you give me an inch of the information, I'll try to take a mile.

So when Justin offered to give me his login and password to his BU Application Status account, I neglected to warn him that both my OCD tendencies and my desire to KNOW would have me checking the damn thing 4 to 5 times a day.

Well, tonight at 5:45 I checked. I checked at least a half dozen times in the last 24 hours and nothing. But tonight at 5:45 - something.

So here I am, at 8:45, and I know whether or not he got in. And he doesn't.

I am anxiously awaiting his dismissal from work so I can tell him (or wait to be told) the news.

Being the keeper of this information is painful.

My mother never told me of this downside...

I Wanna Be Sedated

Even in college, I awoke early. Early to bed, early to rise. The early bird gets the worm. Carpe Diem. All of that cliche nonsense applied to me. If I ever saw 4am, it was from the bottom, not the top.

So WTF has happened to me lately?

As Justin's shifts have changed from early to late, I've thought it almost a mission of mine to see if I could handle those late night hours. Survey says: yes.

So now I'm in this terrible habit of staying up late (not usually doing anything particularly productive, either) and sleeping-in until 11 or so. I've only noticed two downfalls as of yet. 1) My cats still want their breakfast at 7 am, and 2) TV at 1 in the morning is considerably more awful than the 8-10 pm lineup.

I called Justin tonight after he got off work because I was in a surprisingly chipper mood and wanted to share the good vibes through the cellular line. It wasn't until I was chatting about my "good day that began at 5 pm" that I realized how screwy my new body-clock is, and how much like a teenager-on-summer-vacation I am acting.

In the 12 hours that I have been awake, and the 6 hours of which I have been productive, there have been numerous "positives" to note for the day, however.

1. The new iPhone comes out next week, which is my "welcome to Texas" gift to myself.
2. I finally began packing and, shockingly enough, don't want to stop now. I'm on a roll!
3. My stashed and boxed "thin pants" all fit me again, after nearly 2 years of not even being able to pull them over my child-rearing-sized hips.
4. In exactly 5 days I will be officially done with school, and all that it entails. I will, however, probably need to spend at least one day at Buckley packing up all of the sh*t I have amassed in my classroom over the last 4 years which is, not surprisingly, heaps!

It's now 11 pm, and despite my desire to continue this cleansing and purging of all things not Texas-bound, I need to begin to wind down. My day tomorrow begins promptly at 7 am, and if I still have Season 1 of The Office to watch tonight, I should probably begin that as soon as possible.

Countdown: 18 days until the move, 46 days until Justin's visit to Tejas

See you next week, Monday. Peace out.

Something to believe in.

While I begin my final stretch in this lovely state, I am concentrating largely on my visions of my "new life." New job, new apartment, new commute, new friends - all very daunting yet exciting ideas. My goal for the next few weeks is purge my life of all inconsequential belongings. And more than that, to make room for the ideal home which I hope to create for myself. I plan on buying a significant amount of new furniture, as well as redecorating both bedrooms and both bathrooms.

And while my pocketbook is sure to take quite a hit with this new adventure, in the end it will be well worth with.

Two items that I am thinking about splurging on are the irobot pet roomba and the Kohler flip-side hand-held shower head.

I have a coworker that swears by the roomba, and now that I see there exists a "pet" version, specializing in cat hair, I'm totally in. It will clean up to four rooms, all via prior programming, and will "dock" itself back at home base either when it needs charging or when it is finished. Not only will it keep the cat hair at bay, but it will provide a bit of entertainment for the kids when I'm not at home. I'm crossing my fingers I see it sometime on Woot or HSN, because $399.99 is a bit steep for a teacher.

I saw the Kohler shower head on HGTV's coverage of the 2009 Home and Bath Showcase. The nozzle part is shaped a bit like a hockey puck. With each turn, you get a different type of stream. So there are 4 different water options all packaged in a sleek and modern design. I love it! And it's totally a reasonable price seeing as how many showers I take, and how seriously I take them.

So today I officially begin the final clean. With this final clean comes the commencement of the packing. I'm taking on one room at a time, first dividing into keep and donate, and then packing away anything that is useless to me for the next three weeks. Though I have hired a company to pack for me, I figure that any box that I pack myself is money in the bank. And more money in the bank means more money for roomba.

Trying to keep the vision of my new, clean apartment in the forefront of my mind, I now venture off into the dirty, cat hair ridden abyss that is my apartment. Wish me luck. Lord knows I couldn't be less productive than I was yesterday.

Happy Hump Day!

Times they are a changin'...

Everything in life has markers. My move, for instance, has a timeline of events that lead up to the big day. One key event, Justin's move, took place, and now my move seems eminent.

In regards to that, I have almost everything tied up in a neat little bow. I have decided that since I work hard, I deserve to make this as easy as possible. Translation: my moving company is going to pack for me, as well as ship everything I own, including my scooter.

Big spender, you question? Yes...but only when it counts. And peace of mind is priceless, so I'll pay the extra $750 for someone else to do the grunt-work for me.

But I can't help not being in a peaceful place knowing that my favorite thing in life right now is beyond my grasp. As Zach Braff says in Garden State,

"This is life...
and I'm in love with you, Samantha.
I think that's the only thing I've ever been really sure of in my entire life.
I'm really messed up now,and I got a lot of stuff I gotta work out.
But I don't want to waste any more of my life without you in it, okay?"

The hardest thing in the world is knowing what you want and not knowing how to make it happen, at a speed which seems reasonable. This is where I am.

Not to bore anyone with my girlie thoughts, but I'm a little down at the moment.

After 5 years in California, the thing that interested me most in the beginning is the same thing that interests me most in the end, and now he's off to Boston. So what do I do?

Well, I plan for the future. There's a couple of things to keep in mind. First, Justin said that he needs things to look forward to. All I can plan is his visit to Texas in July and my visit to Boston for New Years. Between those, my schedule and pocketbook will have to decide as time passes. Second, Justin has the same desires to travel as I do, so I have started a travel fund for us, both for yearly visits and for large summer excursions (Spain and South America are high on our lists).

My coworker told me to remember the 3 week rule: don't be apart for more than 3 weeks. Well, coworker, that seems impossible. All I can hope is that Justin feels a fraction of what I do, and that we will both try our damnest to make this work. Realistic? No. Idealistic? Yes. But as Melanie said, "people who have never been in love have no idea."

I am holding tight to a few basic ideas, mostly my own.

1. I have never felt how I feel about Justin for anyone else
2. He is well worth any wait
3. The universe (God) has a plan, and I just need to be patient

Beyond that, I try to stay excited about a number of things.

I'm excited to start a new life for myself, and for my cats who will love me their entire lives unconditionally. I'm excited for what the future holds, and for the chance to share it with those around me. I'm excited that I'm getting a promotion, and am one step closer to being a school administrator which, sadly, is my goal. I'm excited to be near family, and near a support system that has been unknown to me for over a decade now.

Do I have things to be sad about? Yes. But do I have a lifetime of things unknown to be ecstatic about? Yes. And so I wait patiently for my new life to play out and for, hopefully, someone to share it all with.

I hope you make it to Boston safely, Justin. But more than that, I hope that we each have a part in each others' exciting futures. Because it's going to be an awesome journey, and I hope I have someone to share each amazing moment with.

I'll drink to both of us tonight, as a couple, and as amazing individuals. Here's to getting what we want and deserve...

Cheers.

Life is a Highway

Have I hired a moving company to ship all of my belongings to Texas in a little over a month? No. Have I started to pack for my move? No. Have I even packed for my 4 day trip to San Francisco (which I leave for tomorrow)? No. Have I done anything, absolutely anything, at all productive at work or at home this week? No.

Did I leave work early yesterday to spend a carefree day at the beach with Justin? Yes. And I wouldn't have changed it for the world. Even if I did only get 4 1/2 hours sleep and had to commute 66 miles to work this morning...

Life is a highway,

I wanna ride it

All night long

If your going my way,

I wanna drive it

All night long

Tuesday's Words of Wisdom

Despite what I would like to believe, I am not always funny, and don't always have something profound to say. Shocking, I know.

Currently, I have a lengthy list of things to do and motivation to accomplish none. My teaching load is virtually nil, yet I cannot seem to meet even the most basic of deadlines. I have to finalize my apartment in Houston, hire a company to move all of my belongings, and start the Herculean task of packing. But the only thing that appeals to me is sitting on my couch, napping, and reflecting on this new chapter of my life that I am expecting to write itself.

Sigh. I'm such a Debbie Downer right now.

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Here's a forward from my cousin-in-law. There're a few gems present here, and some good overall advice. Maybe I'll try to take some of that advice today. Lord knows I couldn't be more pessimistic.

ONE: Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.

TWO: Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.

THREE: Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.

FOUR: When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.

FIVE: When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.

SIX: Be engaged at least six months before you get married.

SEVEN: Believe in love at first sight.

EIGHT: Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.

NINE: Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.

TEN: In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.

ELEVEN: Don't judge people by their relatives.

TWELVE: Talk slowly but think quickly.

THIRTEEN! When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'

FOURTEEN: Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

FIFTEEN: Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.

SIXTEEN: When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

SEVENTEEN: Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.

EIGHTEEN: Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

NINETEEN: When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

TWENTY: Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice

TWENTY ONE: Spend some time alone.

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I especially like #11.

And speaking of family, happy birthday Bubba.

sheribomb out.

Driving from the OC to LA sometimes seems like I'm traveling across the universe...

Two terrible accidents that lengthened the time of my already long commute, driving over an aluminum ladder at roughly 80 mph, and sitting shocked through one slightly scary earthquake later, I survived my last full weekend in Orange County with Justin and managed to find time to relax on my couch with my cats. Sunday's Netflix: Across the Universe.

I recommend this movie if:

1. You have 2+ hours to kill
2. You like the Beatles
3. You like musicals
4. You don't mind slow moving plot lines

That being said, I did not altogether enjoy or dislike this film. An unlikely romance forms between Lucy, a young WASPy girl whose fiance is killed in the war, and Jude, a blue collar young stud from Liverpool who lives in New York City. There are touches of commentary regarding the Vietnam War, an entire half-hour (at least) devoted to psychedelic drugs, and a plot line that's unnaturally fueled by the lyrics to countless Beatles lyrics.

The visual effects were absolutely amazing, and most of the film was aesthetically very pleasing. I'm glad that I finally saw it (and finally get to return it to Netflix), but would probably not see it again or recommend it to someone that does not meet criteria #1-4 above. And I'm not the only one who feels this way...

I give it 3 out of 5 stars. I didn't fall asleep, but I also didn't fall in love with either the Beatles or Jim Sturgess.

Maybe if I were on LSD the film would have made a better impression...

Happy Monday.

Instant kharma's gonna get you...

Disclaimer: I am not religious. I do believe that there is a God, and I do believe that everything has a way of working itself out in life. That being said, I don't prescribe to any particular monotheistic religion. I am very tolerant of other people's beliefs, however, and try to be respectful to all mankind regardless of race, religion, sexual orientation, etc. That being said...

I had a hair appointment after school today. My friend Martin has been my hairdresser for the past 4 years and I think he's an absolute genius with a comb and scissors. After I spoke to him about my new relationship and the geographical turn it's about to take, he told me that he "doubted it will work out." "Don't you remember what you were like in college?" he asked, and I sighed.

After finishing my life-in-short recap, I asked what was new in his world. "I've been reading with the Jehovah's Witnesses," he says, much to my extreme shock. At this point, I completely disregarded his comment about Justin, dismissing him as "an unreliable source," and went on to nod and smile for the next 1+ hour of religious discussion.

To be honest, I found myself quite skeptical of all that he was saying and thought about how "cultish" I often find religion. The rampant hypocrisy, picking and choosing of Biblical messages to which to subscribe, and intolerance of other religions typically turns me quite off to the entire idea. So I listened patiently and told him, genuinely, that I was glad that he was happy, all the while thinking to myself that if I wasn't leaving California, I might need to find a new hairdresser.

After arriving home, as I began to close my garage I noticed something. I reopened my garage door and to my horror my car had been hit! Dear reader(s), I ask you to understand that less than a month ago I had $1,000 worth of body work done to repair my bumper (that a student hit) and to remove all dings and scrapes on the entire exterior of my dear Wendy (my car's name). So to see her blemished, with a broken tail light and a rather large blue and white scratch down her side, was depressing and frustrating. And curious.

Is God trying to prove a point? Was my lack of interest in Martin's stories and theories a catalyst for years of un-Christian-like behavior and an overall aversion to all things related to Jesus? It makes me wonder...

Although I'm not going to sign up for Sunday School quite yet, it does make return to my original personal goal of the year - to judge others less. And isn't that what life is about, finding signs and omens in the strangest of places, trying to refine your beliefs until you can be proud of yourself, your thoughts, and your actions? Well, I'd like to think that's what my life is about, and I would like to think that if I weren't leaving California, Martin would still be the man that I trusted with my hair and the friend that I trusted with my heart. So that's what I'm taking from all of this. I cannot change what has happened, but I can look at it from a different, less victim-like point of view.

I'm still really pissed about the car, though.

Time to go call my insurance company.

I hope the web world welcomes me back with open arms.

In 2004, I started a LiveJournal. Not that is was particularly good, but it was amazingly cathartic. For over two years I wrote prolifically about nearly every aspect of my life. I fell out of this habit soon after moving to California, when I could not afford to actually have the internet at home, but relied wholly on unsuspecting neighbors whose wireless connections were not password protected and also not particularly reliable.

Alas, the desire to broadcast the minutia of my life has resurfaced, and I find myself, once again, in front of the computer trying to will wit through my fingertips and out into cyberspace.

With the approaching changes in my life, it might be good to have a place to jot down my thoughts and ideas, no matter how mundane they might be. So to anyone who might read this, I apologize in advance for your possible waste of time. I will do my best to make my posts entertaining and culturally relevant, although I promise nothing. I will probably rant about things about which no one cares, and I will probably review movies about which no one has heard. I will most likely discuss my soon-to-be long-distance relationship and the closest thing I have to children - my cats. I can foresee complaining about kids, but rest assured, I love my job and I love teaching math.

In the end, remember that this blog is more for me than for my you. I can type infinitely faster than I can write by hand and, let's face it, I spill things on paper journals.

Happy Thursday, blogworld. It's good to be back.