sweetkealoha

Because the program that I am in is largely online, and because we're here in Champaign-Urbana for such a short yet intense amount of time, our program has asked that we wear large tags bearing our names and where we're from at all times.
I'm starting to love mine. Like with a freaky, misplaced kind of fervor. Last night I thought I had lost her, and the only apt way I can think to describe the feeling is to reference Phillip Pullman's masterful "His Dark Materials" series. You know. The part where Lyra gets separated from Pan?
It was like that.
Only worse.

So here's what library school is like:
Yesterday, I walked into a window.
yep.
I'm so tired, and so overstimulated, and so overwhelmed, and so regressed -- I mean, seriously? A dorm? -- and so just...inundated, that I got out of class yesterday, and walked into a big glass window.
It didn't hurt so much as it was just really loud and embarrassing.
For those of you wondering: I have no idea if anyone saw. I just ran.

I'm onto you.
I know what you're doing.
Stop it.
Seriously.
If you're mad (and you clearly are) just say so and we'll work it out.
This is not the time for weird and petty games, this is not the month. I understand that you feel criticized and it's put you on the defensive, but this is not my fault. You've had plenty of time to get your metaphorical ducks in a row, and you chose to put it off. Any fallout from that is on you, not me. I'm sorry that I had to bring it up. It turns out that it's a necessary function of my job. Your procrastination has a palpable effect on the rest of us.
I'm not attacking you, I'm just (very meekly and politely, I might add) asking you to please do your job so that we can do ours.
Please stop retaliating in that manner. It's weird and obnoxious. I don't do passive aggressive. It's not a language I speak, and it's making me itchy.
We can get through this time of the year, but we need each other, and we can't be on the defensive. You of all people should know the benefits of camaraderie and the need for team building. Let's just call this what it is, and drop the negativity.
Deal?

If you live in Indiana's 9th district, vote for my mom tomorrow!
http://www.clearwaterforcongress.com/index.html

I just got into library school, and I'm completely zazzed about it! Come July, I'll be enrolled in the LEEP (distance learning) program through University of Illinois.
I plan on keeping my job at NU while I attend classes full time.
What on earth would possess me to do such a thing? Well, You can read my application essay to find out:

( Personal statement )

Dear Caitlin:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to the Graduate College as a Library & Information Science program student for the Summer 2008 semester. This letter is your official notice of admission.

You have been admitted on Full Status.

In closing, I commend you on your previous academic achievements and congratulate you on your admission to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Best wishes for continued success in your chosen field.

Sincerely,

Richard P. Wheeler
Dean, Graduate College

I have mom hair today.
Something must be done.

I'm having a bit of a rough time. I'm really tired, and sort of stressed out. Actually I think I'm sick. This winter has been pretty hellacious. Just a non-stop bombardment of way below freezing temps, copious snow, and crazy ice-covered sidewalks. The sun is only just now starting to re-appear, after months of virtual non-existence. It's really shitty. I managed not to totally spiral out of control, but only just barely.

In my desperate bid to keep my head above the water this winter, I applied to library school, cut all my hair off, and got a new tattoo. I tend to need to do things to keep my mind off of other crappy stuff. Mostly it worked, but everything sort of came to a head last night.

Rough winter.

I auditioned for a show and didn't get in. This is okay, because I'm super burned out, and I mostly only auditioned because my friend asked me to -- but it still hurts my feelings. It's dumb, but I can't help it.

Then last night I broke the microphone that goes to Karaoke Revolution.

Not a big deal, but when you feel like everything you touch turns to shit, and the only thing you want to do after a really hard day is drink a glass of wine and sing "(I've had) the time of my life" on Karaoke Revolution because you know you are at least good at this ONE thing, and then you break the microphone and look at your husband for comfort, and he only says "I TOLD you to give it to me!" well, you might have a nervous breakdown that might last for a really really long time.

Come to think of it, this may be why I feel so terrible today.

Oh well.
It's Friday.

I have officially been with Devin for eleven years today. That’s awesome! But it makes me feel old. Of course, so does having 18 students ask me for permission for stuff. And the kid at Trader Joe’s calling me ma’am. Also the fact that I’m turning 31 in a month, and I have mom hands.

Big sigh.

I am in a crummy mood, and I don’t like it.
Oh well. It’s Tuesday.

Final holiday meltdown tally: 8 (only one of them from me!)

My friend sent me a link to an online quiz to find out if I have Asperger's syndrome.
If there's one thing I love, it's an online diagnosis.
Turns out, I'm okay. Though it did force me to face my animal noise imitation issues.

Coming back from a month of misery.
Here's what I've learned about my job in the past 6 monts:
June sucks.
September sucks.
Everything else is pretty okay, but those months are like a giant sucking hole.
Spent the last month in a perpetual hate spiral. Feeling much better now.

Friday Night Lights premiere tonight!!
Also, totally loving Pushing Daisies. Yay for good TV!

I am so busy.
It's kind of exciting, meeting these new students -- hiring them, training them, molding their young minds...
You! Freshman! PEEL MY GRAPES!
I like to make them feed me like a baby bird.
Oh the power. The raw raw power.

A while back I lent my Veronica Mars DVDs to my friend Ivan, who is a film and TV aficionado to say the least. He brought them back to me, thanked me for the recommendation, and encouraged me to watch Friday Night Lights. Friday Night Lights? Really? That dumb-ass America-hyping pro-jock looking football show? Really?
A: I am not a sports fan. Like, at all. And especially odious to me is football.
B: WTF, Ivan? I thought you were sensitive and arty and shit (not that one cannot be sensitive and arty as well as a sports fan -- I don't mean to stereotype. In my experience, however, it is not that common).
Then my friend Greta, who is generally my cultural twin (and therefore infallible) recommended it, and I read a few glowing reviews, so I decided to check it out.
Turns out they're selling the first season (5 discs) for $20 (with a money back guarantee), which is freaking GENIUS, because $20 to buy it is CHEAPER than it would cost to rent it from Blockbuster. So D and I bought it on Friday. I really had to twist his arm to get him to watch it with me, even though my sensitive arty husband is also a sports nut. Instead, we attempted to watch "Skeeter," which is an extremely shitty movie from early '90s about killer mosquitoes. I had to turn it off after the shirtless be-mulleted man heard the lonely cry of a hawk and gazed wistfully off into the middle-distance while working on his motorcycle. That was about 10 minutes in.
We finally took the plunge on Saturday. We like to give shows two episodes to get it together, so even though we both proclaimed the premiere a "Meh," we watched the second. And then the third, and the fourth, the fifth, etc.
We barely moved from the couch yesterday, so engrossed were we in that dumb-ass America-hyping pro-jock looking football show. That's right. I love that dumb-ass America-hyping pro-jock looking football show.
We're about halfway through season 1. I plan on going home and planting my butt on the couch and binging again tonight. Seriously. That show is awesome.

Your results:
You are Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command)

Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command) 80% Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic) 80% Malcolm Reynolds (Captain) 65% Inara Serra (Companion) 60% Wash (Ship Pilot) 55% Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic) 45% Derrial Book (Shepherd) 35% Jayne Cobb (Mercenary) 30% River (Stowaway) 30% Alliance 25% A Reaver (Cannibal) 15%

Dependable and trustworthy. You love your significant other and you are a tough cookie when in a conflict.

Click here to take the "Which Serenity character am I?" quiz...

I am an insanity magnet.
It seems that every semi-facultied person with an off-the wall request and their rabid monkey are patronizing the library this afternoon.
I am not functioning well today.
While it seems like this year is going by at warp speed, this day WILL NOT FUCKING END.
I am feeling anti social.
Blah.

After excitedly completing the Harry Potter series, I decided that I needed to know which House I would have been sorted into.



Apparently I'm a 'Puff.
I took two different tests. Same results.
*sigh*

I have this theory that people with perfect teeth have made some sort of devilish pact that they will later pay for tenfold. Like maybe they’ll end up with sewer breath, or their spleen will slowly leak poison into their bloodstream – not enough to kill them, just enough to make them gassy. I am not one of these people. I have rotten teeth. I am currently at three root canals and counting, with two crowns, one in the making, and I am currently having a special custom-made filling put into one really deep cavity, which I am fairly convinced will eventually need a root canal. I hate dentists. I actually hate most medical professionals, with the exception of gynecologists. Although, in my less moneyed days, I went to Planned Parenthood exclusively, where no matter how many times I told them that I AM MONOGAMOUS, AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN MONOGAMOUS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD I AM A TOTAL PRUDE – they refused to believe me, telling me that you “can’t trust anyone,” including your fiancé of six years, and insisting that I get tested for every terrifying STD under the sun including but not limited to syphilis, AIDS, and most recently, HPV.
I’m clean.
Anyway, it’s been a rough month here in my mouth. On Monday night, the temporary filling that is holding the place for the inlay I will be receiving next Thursday apparently became more than my root could bear, leaving me in mild throbbing pain (like a 3.5 on a scale of 1-10). I went back to the dentist yesterday, fearing the worst (my root was slowly dying and turning to decay – been there, done that), only to be semi-brushed off with a slight grinding down of the filling which was apparently “too high, and too heavy for my sensitive root.” It feels better today, I am thrilled to report!
Hopefully, this will be an end to my root-canal woes. At least for a couple of years.
Here’s a message for you, errant teeth: You’d better shape up and feel better. I tell you what, I am not above a set of wooden choppers, a la the Father of Our Nation. If it was good enough for him, you bet your metaphorical asses it’s good enough for me.

Huh.
Interesting scientific update:
It turns out that the original G Dub's dentures were in fact made of hippopotamus ivory (among other things; he had several pairs), as opposed to the commonly believed wood. Gross.

I love my husband.

It’s weird to tell people two years when we’ve been together so much longer. While two years is substantial – longer than many – it lacks the gravitas of the actual ten. Ten years. Ten years worth of arguments and hardship and discovery and wonder and passion and affection and undying love. Two years of official, lawfully contracted, governmentally recognized lovin’.

Thanks, Dev, for marrying me and making me the luckiest girl in the world. Thanks for hanging out with me, being my best friend, and letting me love you. Thanks for your patience, your kindness, your understanding. Thanks for being as fun as you are. Thanks for not needing more space -- I never get tired of seeing you. Thanks for loving me.

I meant every word of my wedding vows, and I always will.

And like the sun peeping out from behind a dark cloud in one of those Zoloft commercials (some people may experience slight nausea or mild discomfort upon viewing maudlin campaign), She feels better!