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.