Somewhere, Not Here

Somewhere, not here, I smile because there’s no reason not to.
There’s a single bird flying through the single cloud in the sky.
The single bird smiles, because it has no reason not to.

Somewhere, not here, I have a twin who pinches me when I’m sleeping.
She puts her pants on backwards and her shoes on the wrong feet.
We speak our secret twin language in public and tell jokes that aren’t very funny.

Somewhere, not here, I’m offered a banana and a firm handshake.
I take the banana, the handshake, and dance to a silent jazz tune.

Somewhere, not here, a frog kisses my cheek.
I turn to kiss him back, but he has hopped away.

Somewhere, not here, I am still smiling
because I have a twin and a banana.
Because I have a handshake and a jazz tune and a frog kiss.
And because I’m somewhere, not here.

-Anonymous

Duck My Sick

While the boy is singlehandedly (or singlesomeotherbodypart) turning our bathtub into a hot tub, let's catch up. I am still sick. I've gone through the stages--sore throat, stuffy nose, runny nose--and I am left with a bright red nose and the whole area between nose and lips. Half of my face is crusty. In the entire house we have a box and a half of tissue left. I'm getting scared and searching for t-shirts I don't so much like anymore. I am cursing those who made me sick. But after talking to my brother, I can take joy in knowing I'm not in my sister-in-law's position--she's got the flu. Not the body chills flu, but the one where you throw up a bunch. Yeah, I have to say that would be worse.

Props: 1) to the Smith for bringing me a nutroll and a copy of Chicago, though I will not be needing it because
2) Rachel will be subbing for me tomorrow and bringing her own copy.
3) to the boy who lets me be whiny and needy and makes me soup and buys me kleenex and 7UP and makes me homemade chicken soup
4) to me because I'm frickin' done with my comps!! While I have this burning desire to celebrate, the need to nap overpowers this. And there's this teeny part of me that is still scared I managed to screw it up.

I realized I have been taking meds for a stuffy nose when I clearly have a RUNNY nose. Hmm. I am desperately waiting out the last hour before I can switch and try something new. The box very strongly warns that meds should not be mixed. I find myself globbing on the chapstick and, when no one is looking, rubbing it all over my nose. So yeah, don't ever ask to borrow my chapstick.

Mom called this morning. She and Dad are spending Easter in New Orleans. They just got off a seven day cruise. Her highlight, she says, was having her picture taken while a dolphin kissed her. I love my mom.

The countdown is on. There are 13 hours until I take my comps. I've made lists and notes and lists with notes. I've studied more than the last 6 years of school combined--I'm still not sure if that's good or bad. I am still battling a cold. I apologize in advance to the people who have to sit next to me and try to concentrate on their essays and not my bright red nose with kleenex stuffed in it. I will find Dayquil and stop taking whatever it is that's making me incredibly drowsy. I will forget the fact that I'm also battling with devilish cramps and am beyond bloated (though I've already lost 4 pounds eating only broth and pudding for 3 days). I've hit a wall where I can study no more. I've memorized short stories, plots, characters, themes, conclusions, all to no doubt be inaccessible to me in the morning when I'm desperately trying to remember if the woman in "A Modern Dragon" is Araminta or Evelina or Hetty Fifield--all names which are vitally important until 3pm tomorrow when I declare everything forgotten. I was supposed to celebrate, but apparently everyone will be in the cities with the "fun" lit. person. No worries. I will prolly be ill. I will prolly spend the 2 hours following the comps in the bathroom--we all know what happens when I get nervous. I still have nightmares about my first 2 months of teaching.

Speaking of my dreams, last night I had a dream that I was at my student's house--visiting with his mother. Apparently I was making my way to the bathroom and walked past his roommate's room--another student of mine--and saw him in his underwear. I said something like "This is prolly crossing teacher-student boundaries." Then I went back into the kitchen and sat there. Later, I was driving around with Jessica Simpson and we decided to put the top down on her car. Somehow we screwed up the car and went to some guy's house to fix it. His wife wouldn't let him fix the car because it was after work hours. They had like 7 dogs in the house--2 shih tzus that I remember--and they all came out and peed on our stuff. Tell me what that means. Ever since Mon. I've been afraid of my dreams coming true. I have the gift, I tell you. See! See what the comps make me do. All work and a nasty cold makes me a crazy girl. I can't tell you what my excuse is the rest of the time. Ach.

Sick.

Why oh why does my body wait until 3 days before the comps to go and get itself sick? Ach. Thanks to the Matt for checking up on my last night. And no, it's not stress. I really am sick. Hmm...ok, and a little stressed. I have been popping decongestants, taking little naps, drinking lots of clear fluids--no, not vodka--and hoping that I will not be sniffling through the entire 5 hour test. I'm sure the others would really like that. Thanks also to the boy who kindly made me homemade chicken noodle soup last night and is currently in the process of picking up some 7up for my sick self. But hey, I could be peeing out of my ass (ask Xtina--and no, she's not peeing out of her ass either.) Ok, I just sneezed 7 times in a row. Time for more tissues.

My spring break...

Friday: Get lost with Mom in town of less than 200 searching for the town cemetery where supposedly there are relatives residing. Find it amusing that the road leading to cemetery has a "Dead End" sign. I ask Mom if they mean it literally. We laugh hysterically. Mom tells me to call Dad to tell him of our wittiness. He is slightly less amused. So is the boy when I tell him later. Mom and I decide it was one of those moments were you just had to be there. We go through the birthplace of my best friend. I ponder why she would ever leave a place that has no gas station, grocery store, signs of life, etc. We arrive at hotel and wait for Mom's college friends to arrive. We go in the pool and race. We decide we've exercised enough and retire to the hot tub for the rest of the wait. Mom's friends arrive. One bursts in and immediately declares her intentions to get fully wasted that night. I giggle knowing this same scene will be repeated with my college friends in thirty years. Smith with take said role.

Saturday: I wake at 8am!!! to have hotel waffles. I study in my room while Mom and friends make handbags with beads, buttons, and puffy paint. I fear that Smith, Dodge, Barger, Willingham, Panko, Olson and I will find ourselves doing this same thing in thirty years. More than this, I fear my mom will take her new bag out in public. I vow that I will never let either happen. I sit in on "adult" conversations I used to be shooed out of the room for. I listen to 5 teachers discuss 30 years of pent up frustration at continually getting the shaft, having to pay for their own supplies, and using their sick days to cover substitutes. I vow to write a letter to a representative.

Saturday Eve: I arrive at German bar in Minneapolis after half hour detour because my brother gave me poor directions. In the process we drive through Dinkytown and I wish I had gone to a college with an entire street devoted to its students. And not just because there's 10 bars there. Oh used bookstores, thrift stores, mini-shops with random weird stuff. Get to German bar (notice how I'm attempting to not have to spell this) and eat overpriced chicken. Realize that Germans are certainly not known for their food. Get kidnapped by old roommates and allow those with full time jobs and health insurance to buy me beer. Drink beer. Talk to guy in Georgia for a good hour. Make him pronounce words in his southern accent and laugh hysterically no matter how he actually pronounces the words. Make phone calls to Smith. Apparently several times. Neglect to remember such phone calls.

Sun: See Smith's blog. Or Matt's. Yeah, that's about it. Realize Chad is a camera whore. Realize that Matt is not sexy in an oversized green vest. Am relieved to know that Matt didn't seriously think he looked good in that vest and paid more than, oh, 20 cents for it.

Monday: Studied for comps.

Tuesday: See Monday

Wednesday: See Monday

Thursday: See Monday

Friday: Woke up, showered, ate, slept. Woke up, watched tv and movies for a riduculous amount of time. Refused to think about comps, composition, school, personal hygiene.

Saturday: Graded profiles, See Monday

Sunday: Attended new church in hopes of finding fabulous wedding site. Realize I will have to keep searching for churches. Searchin' for a churchin'? Oh, I'm so writing a country song. Graded profiles, See Monday, made lesson plans. Baked fabulous peanut butter cookies. Spent solid half hour daydreaming about being a professional jello wrestler. Thought up stage names for jello wrestling career.

Monday: Blogged, switched tense halfway through, clearly lost steam in storytelling around, oh, the second day. Realized my fantastical dreams really do happen. Wished the dream with me and Johnny Depp would come true.

What my students have to say about Dodge's thesis reading

"I really liked the play and there were only a few things that I didn't like. I didn't like that at some points I could not hear her or understand what some of the lines were..."

"I liked how it was something different than nature and animals that was interesting." (Yes! Ignote the blatant run on--I'm working with them on this.)

"My favorite part was when the son was talking to his mom and she had to talk into a machine. The guy who played her part did a good job sounding like a machine." (Chad, you stole the show)

"Before I went to the play I didn't even know what a dominatrix was, but when I left I knew exactly what it was." (Here goes Dodge corrupting the children again)

"I'm curious to why she decided to write about a dominatrix because she seemed like a nice, quiet person." (Umm...I'm still laughing at this one.)

I'm still waiting to hear what the other 2 students said. Surprisingly no one mentioned my fantastic acting skills. I'm pretty sure I rocked it out with my one line.

P.S. to Christina--Of all the people I would offer my kidneys to, Dodge would not be first on my list. I'm pretty sure she's gonna need them sometime.

I Ain't Got Time to Blog

I'm thinking this will be my hit sequel to Ventura's biography. It sounds like a hit.

Pondering on the wonderful places so many will be next week. I shall spend my days in the biblioteca pretending that I will someday graduate. But that's ok. Don't think about poor, poor me while you're off sunning yourself in San Fran or Austin or Burnsville. I'll make it. But where or where do my undergrads get the money to go to Cancun? And why don't they offer to pay for their favorite teach to come with. I'm fun. I danced on the bars down there. I barfed in the crystal clear waters while attempting to snorkel. I survived a two hour bus ride and the walk up and down the Mayan ruins all while suffering from a massive hangover. I'd make a good tour guide. Really. And while I've never been to CA, I'm sure if you stuck me in your suitcase I could manage to provide you with some fun times. Think about it. Really.

Eep.

So I finally got the infamous Panko-Smith make out photo. And if random guy at the bar was speaking the truth, there may well be a hot live-action shot on the internet by now. Before I could stop him, the boy copies the pic to his own computer. "This," he says, "will be shown to all the guys I work with." Dirty, dirty words deleted from that comment. He also swiped the pic of the Panko laying one on me. Yeah, that's right. I was first. Again, the boy noted his friends would all think I'm the coolest. I like to think I'm the coolest because I wash his dirty underpants and deal with the smell he leaves in the bathroom...and the kitchen...and, basically, everywhere he is in the house.

Yesterday we ate well--sea scallops, olive oil and garlic pasta (so what if it came out of the box? It tasted pretty darn close to the stuff that fancy guy made at that fancy restaurant Christensen brought us to.), and asparagus. I have to say, I was might proud that the boy even ate his. Good boy.

This afternoon we celebrate the fact that one of us is able to finish a thesis. What?! ME?! That's just crazy talk. Nuh uh. I'm talking about the Dodge. Ohh, I just had a thought. Does this mean she will be leaving us too? Not that it matters, really, for I shall be gone myself. But certainly not working at this place. Or this place for that matter. Hahaha. Did I fool you? I still don't know how to make links. But if I had, the two would lead you to North Hennepin Community College and Anoka-Ramsey Community College. Both have sent letters. Both have decided I don't even deserve an interview. While that may sound a little bitter, it actually put me into a little frezy when I read them. I got on the treadmill for over a half hour that night. And I ran a lot of it too. Well, maybe that was because Beyonce came on and that put me into a little frezy too. Hey, have you ever cried on a treadmill? Like really just bawled? It's hard to keep balanced. That would have been funny. Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this post to Dodge because
A) today she'd doing what I'm incapable of at the moment and
B) I'm pretty sure she promised me cream of sum yung guy in her last comment. Bring it on woman.