Music Downloads

Okay, I've had it with Rhapsody.

For the last few months it's been fun. I've been paying about 15 bucks a month to "rent" the music. Problem is, twice now I've lost the ability to play the music on my SanDisk. The only way to fix it is to erase everything on the mp3 player and start over. Very irritating, to say the least. And yes, I spent quite a bit of time researching it before I resorted to that.

So, I do not want to download music illegally (none of those Russian sites please), and I'm actually happy with the music rental stuff...just not Rhapsody. Itunes is out too; just as a matter of principle.

Am I being too picky? Perhaps. I don't mind paying the dollar or so if I really want to download something, but like the comedy stuff, I like to listen to it once, then I'm done. Most of the other music I listen to is just on the player anyway; it's not like I'm burning CD's or anything.

And while I'm being all technical, what is a good free program to download to convert CD's to mp3's? There are so many out there, and I can't tell which are good ones, which are bad ones and which are plain shite (practicing again for my Fulbright Exchange).

Thanks.

Enough

Okay, enough of my pity party. At least for now.

The migraine? She is still with me. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's not helping with my morose mood.

Talked to Torn this morning; it's always good to talk to my peeps. Everyone is just so damn busy these days. Then, Katrina called to go to the movies. We saw Dreamgirls.

I have to admit it: I hate musicals. I don't mind music in movies, I adored Fame in my day. I just hate when dialogue is sung instead of spoken. I thought the only music in the movie was when it was performed on a stage. Nope.

Now, the oldies? My Fair Lady? Gigi? Those I like too.

But the new ones? Hate 'em. Particularly, viciously loathed Rent. Thank goodness I rented it instead of paid for a ticket. I turned it off halfway through.

What I want to see is Children of Man. Oooo... that Clive Owen is a hunka hunka Ma-han. And it's supposed to be good. But, of course, Katrina wanted to see Dreamgirls, so that's what we saw.

More Vicoden tonight; I think I'm going to the doctor's tomorrow. This can't be good.

Payday Wednesday... something to look forward to.

rainy day

Thanks for the comments y'all... maybe there is something to that study that says that January 24th is the lowest day of the year.

What's so hard is feeling crummy, and yet feeling as if I don't have the right to feel crummy. You know, "just feeling sorry for myself" and all that.

It doesn't change the fact that I've been inside all day. That of the four people I asked yesterday to do something this weekend, all had something else to do or they would "let me know." That the only person I've spoken to today has been my landlady, wanting to make sure I sweep up the leaves in front of my door before the rain washes them into the gutter.

It's as if there are people for whom gestures are made, and the people who are the makers of those gestures. I'm certainly not in the first group.

What do I mean by that? I mean the little cards that show I'm thinking of you. The five dollar Starbucks card, just to give someone a little treat. Asking someone out for a drink at the end of the week. The tiny little box of valentine hearts, to make someone smile. The inside joke.

The phone call.

For the last few weeks I've been trying to get outside myself when I've been down. You know, do something nice for someone else, feel good about myself by helping others...

It's not really working anymore.

Instead of being appreciated, I feel taken for granted. Or worse, just an obligation.

And you all know I'm not talking about this blog thing. That's different, since I know so few of you in RL anyway.

It's just like aw, Becky's always there. She'll do it. She'll be there, she won't mind, we can count on her. I'll talk to her later.

But, does anyone really look forward to seeing me, talking to me, the way I do them?

That's the heart of the matter folks.

Icky place.

Oh yeah, the headache? Came back this morning for another four hours... guess at least one thing missed me.

Dark Places

I'm gingerly walking around that hole right now.

Being around someone who's feeling low isn't fun... and my friends are proving it. I know I'm a drag to be around right now; and then spending time alone with my head isn't helping the situation any.

Tuesday night I lost it. On the phone with my mother, I was told that my sister wanted me to "plan" the baby shower for her in two weeks because I "love that kind of stuff."


No, not really. Yes, I'm good at it. but I don't live to party plan. Lately it's the last thing I want to do.

I want two full days just to myself. Two days when I don't have to grade papers, or help someone or be somewhere or pay bills or clean the house. And then, I realize I don't want to be alone. I want to be with friends. I want to go with a group to dinner or play poker and laugh my head off.

Neither one of those things is happening right now.

I didn't really lose it because of my sister's request. I lost it because I'm so worried and scared about my friend D. I don't have a family of my own, and while everyone's friends are important to them, to me they are everything. I'm feeling pretty damn fucking alone right now.

Not too dramatic now, am I?

I had tunnel vision during lunch yesterday, then a migraine for 24 hours. That's right people. 24 hours.

It's only the 5th or 6th real one I've had in my life, but a doozy.

Yet I taught through it. Six classes of 32 teenagers.

And here I am, Friday night, ripping my CD's to my computer, and writing a sad little, self-centered post.

Oh yeah, I'm fun stuff.

Back to my life

If you have the chance to see an old friend, take it.

Say what you need to say to someone, even if it scares you.

Ask the questions you want answered, or you'll always wonder.

Let the daily crap go by. Remember there's more out there, and the world's not going to fall apart if you don't get every thing done just right and on time.

We don't always grow in little daily steps. Sometimes we grow in spurts, like when your mom had to keep letting down the hem of your purple Toughskins, and then had to actually sew on an extra plaid cuff because it seemed like you "grew an inch every time" she washed the jeans.

That growth spurt takes some getting used to. Bumping into things, tripping over your own feet because you're still acting as if things were the way they were before. Yet nothing is in the same place. As a kid, it's all arms and legs. Now, it's more the emotions and intellect.

Last summer I found out the truth about something that happened over 20 years ago. I had believed one thing for that whole time, and then found out it wasn't true. Not only that, but that I had been deceived into believing what I did.

Boy, did I feel like a sap.

Now, I'm learning more about myself. What's important and what isn't. How I shouldn't base my feelings on what someone else thinks is valid or not. Just because it makes someone else uncomfortable doesn't mean it's my responsibility to avoid it. Particularly if avoiding it makes me uncomfortable.

Yes, I'm being vague, and no, I'm not talking about the friend I visited this past weekend. Although, that's where all this is coming from.

He asked me in an email a while ago, what I'd do if something life-threatening, like cancer, hit me or one of my family members. You know, "What would you do differently?"

I've been thinking about it since.

And I wouldn't change being a teacher, or the grade level or the subject. I know that part of my life is right. I wouldn't change my sense of humor, even though some think I'm immature, or inappropriate. I don't think I'd start bungee jumping or jumping out of planes; I take the kinds of risks that matter to me already. I don't feel the need to scare myself.

What I would do is tell people what I really thought of them. I would ask the questions that needed to be asked, even if they didn't want to answer them. I would confront those who've hurt my feelings, instead of making it all my fault.

So, I started tonight. I called Kevin, and confronted him about his crappy behavior last summer. He's not one to get into a real emotional conversation, but I feel better now. He was second-guessing me, and I was second-guessing him. It's not all resolved, but at least it's a start.

I still have essays to mark and semester grades to give. I gotta go.

Give someone a hug after you read this, even if you aren't a huggy sort. Even if you don't like it, chances are someone else will.

The kids loved it

All my kids thought my hair was "cool."

No offense to my students, but if a bunch of 13-year-olds think your hair is cool, it probably isn't.

I think they were just excited I colored my hair. They're easily amused.

No blogging for the next few days; leaving for Seattle tomorrow.

It's going to be crazy. See, this is the end of the semester, and grades are due Monday, but I won't be here Monday, and so I got an extension, but still, I've got 90 more essays to grade, and grades to enter, and I have this @#!@$ three-hour meeting tonight that just simply sucks, and I have to get gas sometime between school and the meeting, oh yeah, and Charlie's food and...

M. is picking me up to take me to school tomorrow, A. is covering my last class, B. is driving me to the airport, T. is coming over to my house and picking up Charlie, then dropping him off again on Monday, and J. is picking me up at the airport when I get back.

And I have to leave sub plans for the teacher on Monday, oh, and I've still not scheduled my observation with the vice-principal, which means she's going to think I'm a ding-a-ling, even though I've always had great observations before and then there's the lesson plans I have to prepare before the observation and ...

I'm stressed.

Talk to you all when I get back.

Bad Hair

My highlights had taken over my head; I was dangerously close to one of those two-tone jobs from the 80's. Not that they weren't fabulous, but they were just fabulous 80's.

So, Monday, I go to my hairdresser (I think that's a word like pocketbook... only old ladies use it... I went to my Hair Stylist), and said I wanted to tone down the blonde. JJ has been cutting my hair for 15 years, and is also a friend. She thought and thought, put together a potion, and away we went.

You know those tabby cats with the orange-y red and cream colored stripes?

That was me. I hated it. She had tried to put highlights (why more?) and low lights into my hair. My hair decided to rebel, and just went orange on me. And the blonde parts and the orange parts were in perfect, symmetrical order. Looks great on an African animal of prey, not so good on me.

So, we made another appointment for yesterday, for her to "tone it down."

I really didn't have the time, but I went in.

Bad move.

My hair is not red. Has never been naturally red. I have, what you would call, an ashy tone to my real hair color.

But, when I fiddle with it too much, it shows me who's the boss.

It was supposed to be brown. Light, ashy brown. My real hair color. The highlights would show through, and it would be pretty and natural.


Middle-aged housfrau is what it ended up. Yes, it's shiny.

That's all I've got for the positive. It's red. Not bright red, not crimson red, but red nonetheless.
JJ said, "It's not red, warm, yes, but not red."

It's red. With no highlights. Red, short hair with no interest at all.

I hate it.

Hate it, hate it, hate it.

Charlie and the Camera

Went to the beach today with Katrina, her pooch Jelly, and Ricochet (Ricky for short), whom she is doggy-sitting. Brought my camera too, but Charlie was not cooperative:

Unlike his owner, he doesn't mug for the camera.

Oh, he'll act like he's going to smile. He'll sit, look at me with his adorable chocolate eyes, cock his head to one side endearingly...

...then turn demurely away.

Or, when he gets really bored... he just leaves.

The dog below? That's Jelly.

At least one dog listened to me today.

Keeping Warm

You might have heard that California is experiencing record cold right now.

I tell you, it's all true.

Thank goodness the heater's finally been fixed, and I don't have to go plow the fields or harvest fruit or anything like that.

I didn't go on the date last night after all. I had forgotten about a writing in-service, "Renewal" if you will, that I was attending. I'm a fellow in the National Writing Project, and every three months or so we have these meetings. Really great for revving up the old teaching engine, and also the writing one. Yesterday was all about the importance of literature, and why we need to continue teaching it.

Didn't you know? There's a movement to discontinue teaching fiction completely at the secondary level. The reason being that college freshman don't know how to read for information. Doesn't it follow that Flowers for Algernon and Huckleberry Finn are to blame for that? As if English class is the only place where students are reading at all?

Seems to me the whole baby-with-the-bathwater business.

If I remember correctly, I had to read for history and chemistry and government and biology classes. That reading wasn't for fun. At least not for me. I had to read dense material, figure out how to extract important information, and then put it back together again in the papers I wrote.

And speaking of fun, I don't recall Billy Budd as being "fun." I read it because it was assigned. English is the only class where students are expected to learn content and literacy.

That's not right.

I'm on my soapbox now.

In California, there are 62 state standards for English in the eighth grade. In science? Just seven.

No, I'm not saying that science teachers have it easier than English teachers; not at all. I don't want anything to do with dissecting a fetal pig, thank you very much. What I am saying is that although we learn literacy in all classes, English is the only one one held accountable for it.

As adults, we need the ability to read expository writing. We don't need to read fiction. What I see though, is that by taking fiction out of the classroom completely, we're taking away opportunities for our students to experience other worlds, points of view, and dare I say it, shared cultural touch points.

I've learned more about history through fiction than I ever did through memorizing dates and the names of places and wars.

We share ourselves through our stories. What are these blogs anyway? Perhaps not fiction, but certainly stories. Other viewpoints, other perspectives, other ideas, new ideas... would I have made the same choices as this character? Would I be as strong as him? What would I have done differently? Why is she feeling this way?

Have you ever read a book that seemed to be just written for you? Or a poem that you read at the exact moment it meant something to you?

Don't tell me literature isn't necessary.

(oh, so back to the non-date? The meeting was in Ventura, and we weren't going to get back until late... I've not rescheduled as of yet.)

Quality time

I was trying to spend some with the Wonder Dog tonight, because he's going in for doggie-dental care tomorrow. To the tune of $400, he's getting his teeth cleaned, and hopefully nothing more. It's possible they might have to remove some of his teeth. Remember, his first three years or so were not so good. From the little I know, he spent them infected with fleas, tied to a rope in the yard, eating whatever was thrown at him.

He's a hearty boy though. I'll bring him in before work, and pick him up after school. He can't eat anything else until after the anesthesia, so I gave him extra treats when we were playing tonight.

Speaking of playing, I was on the floor with him, messing with his little "loofah dog" he got from Carol's dogs, Trucker and Stella for Christmas, when I swung it too close to my face -- and then his face got too close to my face -- and his little (and HARD) skull connected with my lip.

Which, in and of itself would have hurt, but wouldn't have been so bad if my teeth hadn't been right behind my lip.

Yep. I have a great big fat lip, and no, I'm not taking a picture of it.

Plus there's a purple blood blister that's adding to the aesthetic of the whole thing.

I must think of an awesome story to tell the kids tomorrow.

oh crud

So, I called the guy from match.com. Not one of the two I talked about the other day, a third one that sounded almost normal.

We talked for about 20 minutes, made a date for Friday night.

And now I don't want to go.

Part of it is just plain cowardice, but part is that whole gut feeling thing. You know, that part of you that says "ut-uh, not gonna happen," and is ignored at your peril?

My gut's telling me this isn't going to go well. And instead of coffee? We're going to dinner! Why, oh why would I do that? A whole meal? God.

He said his goal is to have 6-pack abs.

A Ph.D, a position at the university, and he wants muscles.

Hm...

Not really my --um-- scene.

Judging, I know... judging.

Maybe it's because I'm tired. Last night the phone rang at 10:45. Ten o'clock-at-night-forty-five! No one calls me that late. I was just falling asleep, and it gave me a heart attack. It was David, my friend who's sick up in Seattle. Wants me to come out next weekend.

We talked for an hour. He's doing well, positive, talking about living his life now the way he wants it to be, not the way it's ended up...the way we all should live our lives.

Got my tickets this morning. I'm flying out next Friday, the 19th.

For the last several weeks I've been checking air fares; there's only one direct flight a day from Santa Barbara to Seattle, and it was hovering around $300. On-line at 7 am today? $456 was the lowest price.

Of course.

But, fear not my friends. I went to Hotwire, found a "clearance" price airfare of $229, and bought it.

Nope. Didn't get the direct flight, but an extra hour or so is worth paying less than half of that first ticket.

And it's not even a crummy time. I leave at 1:45 on Friday afternoon, and then I leave Seattle Monday at 11 in the morning. Ahh... No rushing. I hate rushing.

Too much going on right now, and then I just shut down. I'm going to turn in early tonight.
Tomorrow is a new day.

Match.com

There are folks on that website that have 15-20 photos of themselves.

I have one.

I've been looking through my photos, trying to figure out if I should post another.

I have a problem.

In seventh grade I won an award.

"Funniest Faces"

em says that I have a special talent.

Every time a camera is pointed in my direction, an uncontrollable urge to contort my countenance takes over.

It's a lifelong problem. That last picture was taken in 1982. At least my haircuts are better now. (check out the handmade, leather-tooled watchband as well.)

I just thought everyone should see what's got me so thrilled.

Oh boy!

I switched a little tiny bit of the template of my blog; figured blue was more becoming to my eyes and all.

Worked at school today for about five hours and didn't get enough done. I have a really hard time working at home, but right now, it's so deserted at school, and because of the construction there's no outside lights down the entire back length of the school, and well... I just don't like walking through the pitch black to get to where I have to park my car (basically Zimbabwe until the work is done).

Some things got done, and I found my flash-drive which I'd been searching for since Thanksgiving and which was in the pocket of my yucky coat which has been in my car in case of emergencies, and since my room has an arctic-like temperature, I figured I would need it.

There it was. Good thing too, since I'm trying to install the grading program I use at school on my home computer, so I can at least enter grades here where it's comfy and well-lit, and I can have a warming mug of Wassail if needed to keep away the chill. Keeps me well-lit too.

Oh, I slay me, I really do.

So what's the "oh boy!" about?

After leaving the lovely classroom, my car had a mind of it's own and drove me over to Macy's. Macy's where the boots are 50% off right now.

Now, I have spoken before of my, um... rather large calves. I believe the code for it is "muscular."

Sorry folks, I just have oversize calves and wee little feet. Makes it really hard to find any kind of boots that fit. If I wore a size 10 or 11 shoe, I probably wouldn't have as much trouble but hoo boy... I've been searching for brown leather boots since last winter.

But Becky, you don't need boots... you live in a lovely temperate climate... you probably wear open-toed sandals to work year round, right? Why would you even bother with boots?

Fashion. That's why. Really, we only need one or two pairs of shoes if we get right down to it.

I have, let's just say, more than two pairs of shoes.

See, normally, shoes always fit. I've lost a bunch of weight, but still have the same shoe size. When I gained all the weight... I could still buy shoes. And earrings. I have a bit of a problem with that, but I blame it on my mother. She got her ears pierced at 44, and there was no turning back for her. She bought all kinds of earrings for a while, and passed that love of jewelry on down to me. She's also an artist, and made jewelry for over 10 years when I was growing up. Oh, and don't forget, her fabulous taste.

She doesn't try to buy me clothes anymore, she's learned her lesson there, but man, the earrings she buys me are always wonderful. Always.

I digress.

So, went into Macy's, and found about seven pairs of brown boots to try on. One by one they were discarded. Oh, I could get the Anne Kleins zipped up, but I think I actually felt a vein bursting as I did it. Then there was this other pair, White Mountains I think, which fit great. They were meant to have jeans or pants tucked into them I was told by the clerk.

Oh.

And, they had a three-inch, wooden, stacked heel. Yeouch. Nope. Not gonna work.

Then, the last pair... simple, dark brown, low heel... a riding boot style, if you will.

They fit. Snugly, yes, but they fit. And leather. And $59!

Oh boy.

And yet again...

Okay, so I'm "putting myself out there" once more.

This time it's Match.com.

And here is the first message I received after putting up my profile:

"Hi Angel,How are you doing,have just finished going through your profile,when my heart stop beating ,that's because Your smile has a beauty that I find in no other profile... As long as my heart beats, I shall seek out your soul and be fulfilled!!!!Every night I dream of heaven, and I'd gotten used to the idea that they are looking for an angel {YOU}, one that went missing the day you stepped into The word, the day men sorrows were washed away and men took a step into the impossible, crossing the margin from natural to supernatural. You are an angel and forever you will be. The one whose memories men will treasure forever till the day they turn into an angel like you. Am online now let's have a chat on yahoo IM larry_paul123Larry"


Was he drunk? Does he understand basic grammar? Does he really talk like this?

Why? Why? What is it about me that draws in the crazy people? Remember the "pyrate" and the bitter guy back in July?

I used the same picture I have here on the blog; not professional, but a good photo. It looks like me, and was taken about six months ago. Not like some of the photos I've seen. What's with the baseball hats and sunglasses? I mean, out of all the photos a man has of himself, he chooses one that hides most of his face? Or the lovely ones where he's obviously with a woman, but she's been cut out of the photo except for her hand on his shoulder or something.

Okay, so I need to be even more proactive. Instead of waiting for a message, I found someone who in writing seemed to be almost a perfect match. Here's his reply:

Thank you so much for your note and your kind words - I really appreciate it! Lately the response to my Match profile has been a bit overwhelming. I'm going to focus my attention to a few profiles that have really caught my attention and see what friendships (hopefully more) develop.
I wish you the best!
Ken

Overwhelming response? So he's telling me that so many fine fine women are writing back to him that he is overwhelmed? And that I've not caught his attention? And that he hopes that more than just friendship develops with these women? What a thoughtful guy. You know, letting me know that part.

Do I sound bitter? Yeah. I am.

Probably not the best way to be approaching this.

It seems that all a guy has to do to be attractive on these sites is to spell well and use proper grammar, while a woman has to be sexy and athletic, and beautiful and have long hair. Intelligence seems to come much lower on the scale of importance to many of these guys.

And then, of course, I'm not interested in men who aren't interested in intelligence...

Methinks it's time for a little attitude adjustment.

I should just stay away from Trader Joe's

God.

Buttermilk Garlic Mash Potato Chips.

Last night, after going back to Weight Watchers, I stopped by the store to get the ingredients for the 1 point Taco soup. However, I stopped at the wrong store.

I picked up these chips thinking they'd be tasty, and really, I'd only have a few at a time--count my points and all--nope.

Before I even left the parking lot, the struggle to get the iron-sealed bag open had begun. Anyone watching me would've thought I was fighting with an attacker, the way I pulled and grunted and used my teeth. The first chip was bliss. Tasted exactly like buttery, roasted garlicky potatoes. Heaven.

At least for my taste buds.

See, I've lost almost 40 pounds since I started trying 16 months ago. More if you let me count the three pounds I keep gaining and losing and gaining back. I'm at what we in the weight loss game call a "Plateau." Well, I was until a few weeks ago.

The holidays hit me hard. Missed three weeks in a row of weighing in (the public shame keeps me from going too crazy on the food train), plus the cookies and parties and the going out and the eating of good food, and the boredom of being alone in the house for several days and the cold weather that kept me from going on the long walks with Charlie-boy... it all took its toll.

I gained almost four pounds. Eek.

There's 40 more pounds that need to leave my body, and I'm going in the wrong direction.

And these chips aren't helping. Perhaps I should just... get rid of them...oh, not throw them away... that would be wasteful... you know... just finish them up...the last hurrah and all... start over tomorrow... (have I used enough ellipses by now?)...tomorrow's another day... so cold lately we're all bundled up anyway... besides, I'm not my weight... I'm more than that...

Wait a minute.

I think there's still some chocolate in the fridge.

I gotta go.

I have quite a headache, but did manage to take the Wonder Dog for an hour-long walk this morning around the lake. Good way to start the new year, but now I have to go take a nap.