My sister googled me, and happened across this article written in Single Again Magazine about the death of her brother, and likens how we treat this generation of children to the ‘stolen generation’ of Aborignal children from Australia.
My brother is alive, but that only begins to explain the creepiness.
Creeeeeeeeepy.
There’s just something about a fully knitted Batman costume that just makes me a little creeped out.
I’ll point out for non-knitter the irony of an $8, 000 Aquaman knitted suit, because it cost more than you think for the yarn. I’d frog it and make an afghan though.
You know when you have a sex dream about someone who is in your daily life (as opposed to a celebrity sex dream) and then you wake up and think about how it’s going to be weird when you see them next, and when you do see them it’s all weird, but only you know it, and you feel like you should tell them even though you really shouldn’t because there really isn’t a “special bond” – it’s all just in your head, but you can’t help it?
Yeah. I don’t really know what else to say, but I guess each and every one of you reading this (who know me) can assume what you’d like. Giggedy giggedy. All right.
One of the sites I keep my eye on is Drawn.ca. They feature artists with examples of their work. It sounds simple and arty, but it tends to lean on the side of comic books and contemporary PoMo.
And that’s how I learned about Little India, the book written by Pixar Studio animator Sanjay Patel. The book is a children’s guide to Hindu mythology, but ubercute. I mean, uber. It’s cuter than Hello Kitty. 
It’s self published, and I immediately wanted it. It’s a under-the-radar, cool, useful children’s book. What’s better than that?
Did I mention that I already have a fairly substantial children’s book collection? Going to grad school for kids lit is the only reason that isn’t a wee bit creepy. I’m a lucky duck.
I bought a PDA this weekend. I was going to hide that fact for a while, since they’re not really that hip, and I kind of look like a dork when I whip it out and start jabbing at it while it makes little annoying click noises.
I named it the 6:1, after that particular domino that is the best domino to have in your hand. It’s referred to as “the pet”, so it’s an appropriate title, and since I’m affectionate to my things, it’s an appropriately named gizmo.
I’ve already put a ton of lists on it, which is way better than my last datakeeper, which was small pieces of paper that ended up in the washer and becoming lint.
So here’s my first critique. I would like the ‘tasks’ application to offer an option to throw said tasks (such as “making energy bars”) into the calendar. That way, I’m reminded to get stuff done.
Americorps: Six years of waste and fraud
So this dude wrote an essay about how AmeriCorps has been a huge waste of time / money / resources / effort.
I volunteered with AmeriCorps*NCCC, the national volunteer AmeriCorps program. I hate to call the program elite, because volunteering is volunteering, but it’s the national program, and only so many people can do it each year. It’s a 10 month program, during which you log 1,700 hours. Basically, it’s full time work, if not more. Some of the examples the author states in this essay were unsurprising. Part of the difficulty of AmeriCorps is that any nonprofit can request a team. That’s a lot of different groups with different types of work. Then there’s scheduling – ‘spikes’, or off-campus projects (the majority), are usually several months long – so it’s difficult to line up projects that don’t require timing due to weather, immediate need, building schedules, etc. My first ‘spike’ was fixing horse trails in Ohio. These horse trails were going to be completely redone in a year. It was November, it was deer hunting season, and it was rainy. None of us understood why we had to do it, but we did. I guess it’s kind of like the ‘don’t think – just do’ mindset of someone in the military.
So as I read this essay, I realized that there are a lot of flaws with the program that are easily pointed out. The sum of these flaws doesn’t come close to the good that we did.
Not that I saved any lives – oh wait, I did save a turtle during a forest fire, and that’s no shit – but we did spend some quality time with kids who could really use some attention and encouragement. We did clean up after a tornado. We did build Habitat for Humanity homes. None of these things are particularly detrimental. One of the examples is volunteers ‘busying’ themselves with organizing neighborhood parties. My team organized a kids’ day in Congress Park – one of the worst neighborhoods in Anacostia, DC, and the nation. We got donations for a sweet moon bounce, games, face paint, double dutch ropes, and snacks. We brought the community together and hung out, which made tutoring those kids a lot easier later, and we didn’t get suspicious looks when we walked our buds home. We were the only white people there, and it was important.
So that’s my rebuttal to this schmuck’s argument. And then I will punch him in the neck with this:
Any asshole can poke holes in a volunteer program. The point is that a bunch of kids gave up a year of college, or that first crucial year out of college, or a year that might have otherwise landed them in jail. All these kids went to the same place, learned to fucking get along, learned a work ethic, and left much much stronger than when they came.
I’m over being angry. The post is from October of 200, almost exactly a year before I began the program. Still. You have no idea how much that year did for me.
As it turns out, if you’re feeling weird about the relationship that you’re in, and you feel uncomfortable talking about it because you’re still overanalyzing processing it, and don’t think you can logically discuss it …
1. Wait. You’ll be able to communicate better, and therefore less likely to say something horrific.
2. Talk about as soon as you can though, because you’re not the only on in the relationship, and they’re feeling the weird too.
3. And realize that sometimes all you have to do is identify it to make it go away.
Like monsters.
There’s a big-ass difference between getting bored with your boyfriend because you’ve been ignoring all the signs that point to Breakupland, and just not feeling particularly enthused. Enthusiasm returns.
Seriously, even when my relationship is at its absolute worst, it’s better than average. That’s hard to keep in perspective sometimes. Right now, though, I’m feeling pretty god damn smug.
Jakety, you sly dog. I was reading Lifehacker on my Bloglines, and my eyes were immediately drawn to Reduce the size of your iTunes library. And there you were.
Nice job. I had a lifehack posted a few weeks ago, so if one were keeping track, one would say that we’re one to one. A gallon of milk goes to whomever posts the next lifehack!
Last night I didn’t get home from work until 10:30 p.m. This only happens once a quarter, when the earnings release needs to be run through with a fine toothed comb, so it’s more exciting and novel (with free pizza) than it is a pain in the ass. Plus, the person with whom I have to work with on this late night is one of my favorite people at work, so it was no big deal. It could be a whole lot worse.
I’m starting to feel the wear of not only working for a giant company with obvious corporate bloat, but also just a job that I’ve done for six months now. Much like my dating history, I have a tolerance point that, once reached, signals drastic change. For the former, it’s about a year. For the latter, it’s six months.
I’m obviously becoming more mature, as I have not freaked out and found a new sig.oth. or a new job. (I think the relative sanity of the boyfriend does directly influence the job tolerance.)
That doesn’t mean that I’m not tempted. (I’m mostly talking about jobs, here.) Living in the city during the summer means kickball league and movies in the park. I don’t know what living in the suburbs is going to turn out like. I do know that there’s a pool at my apartment complex, I live next door to a go-cart track and mini golf course, and I live 6 minutes from Six Flags. That doesn’t sound bad in theory, but I don’t know how it will turn out.
There are still 2 months before Allison Darling Lyman comes to spend the summer at Camp Bucket of Sunshine. (It’s a boot camp for souls who have lived in Iowa City too long and have chronic disenchantment. I think my sister is signing up for a two-week course.)
Anyway, back to my identity working at a large company – I realized today that as much as I’ve learned from working here, I know I’ll never wholly identify with those who make this their career. I realized this as I used the copy room staple remover to pry out the staples that attached the ‘$.90’ tag to my thrift store belt.
Part of blogging, to me, is the honest recording of thoughts. I usually don’t have a problem with divulging information about myself, when in fact others find it embarrassing – not only are they too embarrassed to express the same thought, but they are also embarrassed by my sharing it.
I struggle here, because this isn’t a paper journal or secret livejournal where I can blaaaaaa out what I need to think about but am too afraid to say out loud. There is a “Save as Private” button, but I fear that it’s a total cop out, and that if I use it once, I’ll start censoring myself and saving the angst.
What I want to write about isn’t something I wouldn’t share with a friend, or be embarrassed if it were overheard. It’s just that I’ve had a long history of divulging too much information, and the only real offense is when I embarrass someone else who happens to be involved in the story. I’m 26, and I’ve only just let this lesson sink in, so I’m feeling cautionary, and haven’t quite gotten the hang of it.
On the other hand, I feel like I’ve been having these lucid epiphanies, and I want to share them. I seem to have grown a recognizable amount lately, and it’s as astonishing to me as it is to you. Until lately, I’ve been swirling through life, happy to get a charge from changing jobs or boyfriends or countries. Up until recently, everything has been the same since about late high school.
I became comfortable with my view of myself. I realized that I’m not just a gawky XX-year-old. I’m also perennially six. I’ve realized that there are some aspects to me that probably won’t ever change much. I’ve come to terms with my wanderlust and general lust. You could say that I’ve become comfortable in my skin. I suppose I should just be grateful for that.
Don’t get me wrong – I don’t feel uncomfortable right now. It’s more like I finally understand the annoying analogies about how growing up is like the transformation of a butterfly. Sometimes it’s incredibly painful. Junior high, for instance. The year after college, for another. What’s worse than feeling mentally awkward? (Feeling mentally awkward and also realizing you’re smelly sometimes.)
So anyway, things have basically been the same for a long time. It’s been my brain that’s done all the developing, and I’ve kind of gotten the hang of it. So now, I’m starting to run into these things that I’ve never had to deal with before. For the first time ever, I kind of know what I want to do with my life. (Personally, I feel that I should only count the last four years, because there’s not a lot I could have done to prepare myself better.) I’m going to grad school in the fall, and I’m going to study something I am excited to learn about. (With the exception of “The History of the Organization of Information”, a class so broad it really seems to serve no purpose.) I can see myself being a little old lady librarian. I really can. This makes me so happy, I want to hug myself and jump up and down while making quarter turns on the upbounce.
I’ve dated enough, over a long enough time, to understand the basic fundamentals of a long-term relationship. I’ve realized that there becomes a point where you realize that you might love your friend as much as your boyfriend, and that’s OK. You’re not supposed to love one person more than anybody else. At least I’m not supposed to. (Babies are the exception – I hear there’s a thing about babies.) There’s a whole lot more I’m learning about relationships, but here’s where I get nervous about divulging too much.
I can say this – I am incredibly grateful that I have friends who are older than me, because the perspective they have is incredible. There’s a weird hump right now – a lot of my friends are in relationships, but few of them are marriage-minded – and I am at will to make whatever decision I want about the future I get, thanks to years and years of womens lib of one kind or another. This is the kind of stuff I’ve never really thought about before, in an applicable context. It’s a little too much, and I got a little bit dizzy and had to sit down. Luckily, I had a guiding light of rational thought and perspective waiting for me, along with free pizza. Both of those things cured my mental queasiness.
I can’t exclaim about this enough. It’s like I’ve been playing a lot of Super Mario Brothers (on Game Boy) and now know the first 7 levels REAL well, and have finally gotten the skills to finally move forward after days of going through the same boring levels.
(A blog post isn’t complete without a shitty analogy. That’s the way I roll.)