Funny Story?

Last Friday I was supposed to have a facial & body mud mask thing because this "spa" was running a special deal for the last week of February. Unfortunately we got nearly a foot of snow and I had to reschedule. I don't know what I was thinking scheduling it for Monday at 6pm. Even on a GREAT day I NEVER am done at 6pm. Today was not even close to a great day. We had a shit storm of claims and I was all over the place looking at vehicles and completing in-person contacts. Of course 3 of my vehicles ended up being total losses as well. Imagine a 1990 Beretta with minimal damage--the guy was shocked that it costs more to repair it than it would to total it. ALSO ends up that I used to work with this guy back in high school! The day was just full of strange kinds of things.

Only by the grace of God was I able to shove some stuff onto tomorrow's schedule and make it to my appointment at 6:05pm.

I am led into this back room by a lady who just came in from having a cigarette and was coughing about 4.3 pints of mucus. Then she hands me a gown that I mistook for a skirt kind of thing and I walk into the treatment room wearing my satin blue bra & this wierd velcro fabric as a skirt. She started laughing and told me it was supposed to be to wrap around my top and that I was supposed to keep my pants on (?). I'm like, "uhhhh, I thought I was having a facial and a mud treatment."
"You are, but we'll just do your top today!"

oooohhh kay then!

I feel humiliated for some silly reason and go adjust my attire.

I come back and she's doing my facial and all of a sudden farts louder than all hell near my face when she was turned around to get a towel! Then I happened to have a tiny teeny red spot on my left shoulder & she started to pick at it! I swatted her hand away and was like, "I just remembered I have to be somewhere, so when you are done with the facial that will be all for today."

The remaining time there I kept thinking, "why can't I stand up to her and tell her I am not satisfied with her service or the fact that her stinky hands were on my face and smelled like ashtray?" I kept silent and even thanked her when it was all said and done!

Sometimes I think things like that are my fault--like I have some f'ed up lesson to learn. I always do that.

I have a clean face now. Was it worth $45? I'll get back to you on that.

Woooohoooo! 

I don't know why, but I was sort of nervous for this gig last night. Husband was full of good things to say & took a photo just as we were preparing to walk out the door. 

Husband was experimenting with the camera settings last night. Maybe I should explain a little bit about where we even were! The University had its annual scholarship fundraiser for the music department--The Snow Ball. Tickets cost an arm and a leg, but it's fun to do something different--get dressed up, have a fabulous dinner, and listen to great jazz. One thing we didn't quite expect was to be the youngest couple there by 15-20 years! It was mostly one of those small town you should be seen here if you're anybody that matters kind of things. Of course husband and I don't really matter to anyone in this town, so we only knew about 4 people there (who don't know us). hahahahha. 

Last night's main course was some sort of pork something or other. Before being served, we played a game similar to Hot Potato, but with a rose and whoever was stuck holding the rose when the music stopped had to carve the pork. We had to get a photo! 

I found this photo while digging on the computer. This is huband and I the day before our wedding with his awesome cousins (who were in our wedding) Clinton & Aubrey! I miss you guys. Hopefully we'll see you all very soon! 

Other than our wedding, this is the first time I've seen my husband in a tuxedo! He was looking extremely handsome last night (as usual)! 

This is the jazz ensemble that played last night. I was wishing we had taken some dancing lessons so we could enjoy it a little more than we did. However, we were in good company--I think the only people who really knew what they were doing were the people who teach ballroom dancing in Bemidji.  

ok, this option of collage doesn't really make much sense for posting on here---agree? 

I'm just messing around with some photos of husband & I in Picasa. I took 2 snapshots of us from last night & made a photopile collage. I'm just getting started!! Weeeeee! 

I'm trying to add more than one photo per post & am having little success! Husband was a sleepy boy after the ball last night. Sister & I snagged a photo. 

This is me, morning after snow ball--messy hair, no make up & a smile for my man. 

Husband painted my toenails the other day--almost feels like summer! 

FISHING FUN


I'm back from a wild weekend of "fishing." Unfortunately not much fishing took place, so I had plenty of time to document my weekend with photos! Layering several pants & shirts, getting up early, and dealing with a drippy nose & runny eyes were the highlight of the weekend.

The last few years we always meant to stop & take a picture of Kansas City Road off of Hwy 72. Husband is from KC & you can imagine the excitement of traveling down a cold Minnesota road in the middle of nowhere & seeing this!











This is my sexy husband posing for a perverted photos with his brat. So silly!





Here's a photos of my holes!


It's amazing what you can do with a camera when you are bored!









Here's what husband and I have to say to the fish who managed to evade us yet again!

It's Thursday evening and I should get to packing for my fishing trip this weekend. I have to stop in Baudette on my way to fishing to do estimates on 2 different vehicles. It gets me out of the office a little earlier & I can do some work on the drive there as well.
The apartment interview got moved to Tuesday of this week & I wasn't able to go because of work. Husband went & apparently the whole salary arrangement has changed & it doesn't make sense for us to even consider the position. I wasn't excited about the position, but was sort of elated at the prospect of being done at my current job. Oh well, time for me to just suck it up and be a man--that's what I feel like most days. I work more than full time & pay all the of the bills and do what is typically a male-oriented job. I like to think my tits and great smile make life a little easier in this role. It feels wierd to never see money from my paychecks--husband pays the bills with "our" money & lets me know if we have any to spare for pizza and a bottle of wine like last night. I would have much rather just hit the wine after the days I've had.
I'm resigning myself to the fact that I'm stuck in my position for a while and that's how it's got to be. Anyone have advice on how to make that tolerable? I'm curious what works for others in similar situations.

Sometimes I wonder why some things come so easily to some people and are a constant struggle for others. Mostly life, I guess. Some people don't even appear to try--how do they get away with it (and maybe even have a clear conscience?). I think of some of my relatives who just don't pay bills or bother keeping a job or finding their own place to live or do the little things for others that matter and nobody expects anything more from them...but if I just decided not to remember someone's birthday or follow-up on some significant event (like that would even ever happen!), then I'm a selfish bitch.

I also wonder how I can bust ass this morning and get a ton of stuff accomplished in an hour, but someone else can't even do half of that in an entire day. It's amazing how easily people are humored into thinking they are being productive! Get a friggen clue.

I'm just your average ordinary female. I'm not above anything and work myself hard...maybe that's the problem, not everyone has the same work ethic or expectations of themselves. Soooo, why do I have such high standards for myself?

Answer: because someone has to do all the shit you lazy fuckers DON'T do!

This is the face of your friendly insurance adjuster!
BEWARE!

It's "hump day" in a normal person's work week. Every day is that in my work week. I have been working in the insurance industry since August in an attempt to support the lifestyle of my husband and I until he is done with school and we live in a location with more opportunity.

What do I mean by more opportunity? I love to teach. The career of a teacher is not only rewarding but a hell of a lot LESS stressful than any other job I've had---maybe because it is so rewarding...or something. I have so many thoughts and feelings in me right now that I know I am not going to make any sense here. So fuck being poetic or anything like that. I should also share that I hate my husband's laptop computer. I'm typing on the pile right now and the cursor keeps relocating within my text even when I conciously keep my meaty hands off the mouse pad thingy.

I hate my job. It's not the kind of hate where it's just a drag to go, but it sucks the everliving life out of me in every way imagineable (I don't think I'm spelling that correctly, it doesn't look right with the e before the a, but I don't want to check; mostly I'm writing this is a disclaimer in case it is wrong and in case anyone actually reads this rambling and makes a mental note of it being wrong). I deal with people when they have damage to their vehicles. Vehicles are a big part of people's lives--they use them to get to work, to transport children, to have fun, to get groceries, to go to the doctor, to deliver papers and pizza and all kinds of crap. When something happens to prevent any one or all of those things from happening, folks aren't usually in a good mood. That's where I come in. I'm the lucky one who assesses your coverage---you'd be surprised how many people have no idea what kind of (if any) insurance coverage they have on their vehicle!! This is always when people regret that high deductibles they selected in order to pay cheaper premiums.

Just so you know---your premiums cover more than just damage to YOUR vehicle, assholes!! You are also covered in the event that you cause damage to someone else's property (signs, guardrails, cars, bikes, houses, lightpoles, garage doors, dogs, toolboxes--just to name a few that I've had to afford coverage for). Your coverage also includes medical bills for YOU and your passengers in an event of an accident. Maybe you also pay for car rental or roadside assistance. There's also bodily injury coverage in case you injure someone in another vehicle or a pedestrian--this is above and beyond their medical bills by the way.

Did you know that Minnesota is a NO FAULT state---which has NOTHING NOTHING NOT A FUCKING THING to do with liability (stated simply: who is at fault for the accident). No fault simply means that in ANY accident in Minnesota, each parties medical bills will be paid for by their OWN insurance company NO matter who is at fault. This is decided by your legislature NOT by insurance companies. This is to protect you in the event that you were hit by someone without insurance and you have medical bills or in the event that liability is not immediately determined---then your shit is paid for--and not by YOU!

I'm tired of police officers showing up to accident scenes and telling people that Minnesota is a no fault state so it's nobody's fault. Fuck you officer! Learn some basics in insurance before you start giving people wrong information.

So once I find coverage for you fools, I do an estimate on your vehicle. I hate cars. People place far too much value on their vehicles. What you have a 1992 Pontiac Grand Prix and you think it's one of the nicest vehicles in the Fargo-Moorhead area??? Have you recently been a recipient of some work on "Pimp My Ride"....DOUBTFUL! Be realistic. Nearly every insurance policy states the obligation to restore your vehicle to its PRE PRE PRE PREEEE-accident condition. If your '92 grand prix is a piece of shit before you get in a fender bender, it is NOT my responsibility to restore it to 2006 condition. You pay '92 premiums, so I'll restore you to '92 condition, shithead! Stop bitching about insurance companies writing for used parts on your estimate! If your vehicle had not been in an accident, would you say your fender was a piece of shit? So why is a fender off off your same model year vehicle or NEWER so bad?

Once I write your estimate then I have to deal with the shop you choose to have your repairs made---another thing in Minnesota--it's the law that you have the right to choose your repair shop. You do not have to go around collecting friggen estimates and all that bullshit. I wish people would catch up.

I hate dealing with mechanics and any other people who are in the car or car care business. Ya'll make way too much money and are slimey as shit (except for about 4 of you that I've dealt with in my job and unfortunately you are a minority).

Summary: I love people, but I HATE customers. Don't be such assholes to people who are trying to help you. I have a bitch boss who micromanages and forgets that I have my master's degree and am only in this shithole until husband finishes school and we flee this God-forsaken territory for a better life.

I can't reconcile the fact that this IS temporary because everyday I feel sick going to work and cry a lot at the end of the day. It's such an unnatural feeling to know so much about cars and to look at random vehicles when I drive through town for NONwork tasks and assess damage to vehicles with dents or missing pieces. I HATE THIS! I'm a damn english teacher.

I have applied for jobs that I would rather not do to help keep my sanity and my marriage---food service worker at the elementary school? I'm your girl! Welder of patio furniture? Sign me up! Manager of an income-subsidized apartment building--HELL YEAH!
Husband and I actually have an interview on Sunday with the apartment people and I don't want to get excited in case it doesn't pan out because I honestly can't take the disappointment anymore. However, if the interview goes well, it sounds like we'd move in and start ASAP. Wednesday is the first of February and that means this week could possibly be my last week as an insurance adjuster. If we get offered the job on the spot on Sunday, that's it. I'm calling my boss's voicemail 5 seconds later and telling her to shove it. There is not way in HELL that any teaching position is going to bother caring about an insurance job as a reference and I don't have to put them on my resume. This company has shit on me soooo many times I can't even begin to share--maybe for another late night post when I'm furious and don't know what to do about it.

Corporate work is for people who have no soul.

It has been ages since I wrote something for this blog. Life has been a whirlwind of activity. When it's not, the last thing I care about doing is posting here.

I'm married.
I love it.
I never imagined that there would be someone who fit me so perfectly. What an amazing thing I have been given.

I started a new job a couple months ago. I'm starting my...let's see...5th week "on the road" for work. I have one more week left in Cleveland and another 2 weeks in Minneapolis. When those are complete----HOME SWEET HOME!

This will (God willing) be my last winter in Minnesota. Husband has been applying to PhD schools where there happen to be much milder climates than freeeeeeeeeeeezing cold Northern MN.

I'm killing time during the rest of my lunch break. I ate my tuna, broccoli and pinapple and am now writing e-mails back and forth with my amazing husband. I thought about going for a drive in the ol' rental car to get out for a while, but it's all gloom and hard rain. I'm too lazy to deal with that right now.

My mission upon my 6:00 return to the crappiest Hilton ever founded is to track down a tanning salon. I'm feeling quite pastey and could use the 15mn in heaven! We have a wedding on Saturday and I want to look and feel my best.

Well, time to take a potty break before the afternoon resumes.

Hope ya'll are doing well. Drop a comment if you like.

I'm not sure what to write here. I'm working, but there is actually no work to do at the moment and I feel like posting, because I haven't in quite a while, but really don't have much interesting to say.

J and I met with the wedding planner today. She had a brief falling off the face of the earth, causing me to have a brief mental breakdown, but now all is well--I think. J says he doesn't really trust her and I am not sure if I do, but am willing to risk it on her. She made some bad choices in the past and it's hard not to remember that when you are trusting her with quite a bit of your money and one of the most important days in your life. However, like I rationalized to J--if she totally screws us over, we'll still be married at the end of the day. People will just have to eat cake with their hands and sit at random and undecorated tables in a really dark and brown Elk's lodge.

On the other hand, if she does NOT screw us over, a bunch of little things will be taken care of and the reception hall will look like a palace. I'd rather she did it or nobody did. Stupid, I know. She talks a lot--about stuff I don't really care about. J said I looked bored out of my mind when she was talking about non-wedding stuff today during our meeting. He kept waiting for a turd to fall out of my mouth.

I keep looking at the pictures of me at my dress fitting and can't believe it's FINALLY going to happen. I just want to be married to this man so bad. Our premarital counseling is very interesting and for next week we have to come with our own set of rules on FIGHTING FAIR.
Today we were cuddling during a 30 mn. break between work and school and stuff and I told him to try to "attack" me--like a rapist might--but WITH clothes on. He didn't fight fair. He licked my face. I hate that. That's going on our list: No licking of the face!

I just got home from the doc's office and found out I have bronchitis and a major sinus infection. She prescribed the "killer of antibiotics" (to quote my pharmacist). I'm going to go pop pills now and go to bed.

Love ya'll!

I'm so sick.

I've been in bed since Monday afternoon.

Luckily this turned out to be a transition week. I got a new full-time job that I start this Monday. BSU was kind enough to find a replacement, since I applied for the job before they offered me the teaching assignment. The new instructor took over today, so my last class was Monday, followed by meetings with the department chair and the "new girl."

This group of students seemed like a great bunch. Even though I'm still new at this stuff, having 3 years under my belt has really made me realize what matters in a classroom and how to balance that with learning! The people are what really matter in a learning environment. If they feel secure and respected and like what they think and say and do really matters, what follows is a piece of cake. Ending a class is always so difficult for me, because I really care about the learners as individuals. However, this is a change that is right for the time and I couldn't be happier ( well, I could if I weren't so damn sick!).

I've been thinking a lot this week about a couple people that I've lost touch with over the last couple years. I really want to reconnect and am not sure how to find them.

If by some miracle, Chad & Josephine Anderson stumble across this site, please contact me. I miss you and Drew, Dylan, and Cassie. Last I heard they were living in Illinois somewhere, but I'm hoping they have come back to the homeland and might do a google search of their old friend Stacey Steinkopf!

I'm also thinking lots about Heidi Wolf--now married Thoennes. After I complete this post I'll do a little search for her, I think she is employed by the same law firm and perhaps I can touch base with her that way. She sent me an e-mail a long time ago and I got busy and lazy and never responded. I suck. I miss her a lot. She taught me so much about life and was my greatest fan when it came to college and grad. school stuff. An educated woman who can stay grounded and still kick some major ass!

My wedding is in just over 90 days. Justin called to check on the status of my dress and they said it should be in this week. I should go into the shop and scope out the undergarment situation before I schedule my fitting--these knockers of mine are going to be bolted down and shoved together. I've never worn a strapless gown or a strapless anything in my entire life! When I was in my cousin's wedding our dresses were off the shoulder and I remember hating how my boobs looked/felt that day.

The boy and I are going to look at a townhome on Friday morning. We would be the first people living there and it wouldn't be an apartment! The rent isn't much more than Justin pays for his apartment right now and it has a garage and we aren't responsible for any maintenance or anything. If we could put our deposit down that day (we already drove by it and it looks perfect) and Justin can put his 30 day notice on his apartment when he pays rent on the first, then we'd have the entire month of February to move his stuff and most of mine into the place. THEN in March and April we can relax and after the wedding not have to worry about getting me moved out of where I now live and all that crap.

I've been working my assssssss off to pay off credit cards and my truck loan so that when we get married all I have are my student loans AND the wedding is all paid for, aside from little stuff that we are setting money aside for. It feels really good to be out from under financial burden. It's so oppressive.

Time to head back to bed. I finished my hot tea and bit my tongue SO hard it's numb when I was eating an orange.

E-mails can be sent to stein@paulbunyan.net

Be well.

Childhood: The Home Game

“Pretend you’re sad!” I commanded my brother.
“I am sad!” he whined as tears froze to his cold pink cheeks.
“But be sad without crying, you baby!” I snorted, as I worked hard to drag the dry, dead pine tree carefully, so as to preserve the few strands of tinsel that were left hanging.
I had conned my siblings into playing a little game I invented called Homeless. It was winter vacation and my mom had just thrown out the Christmas tree. My brother and I spent the three previous days building a fort in a pile of snow in the front yard. In this game, we pretended that I lived on the streets with my kids (my siblings) and we couldn’t afford a Christmas tree so we had to wait until the rich people threw their tree out before we could celebrate.
In our family, this is a tie for worst childhood game with my cousin Ben, who played Underground Railroad with his siblings and neighbors. Apparently they all fought over who got to be Harriet Tubman.
There was also the game House on Fire, which I think kids in our neighborhood played as some variant of tag, but mine was much better. Every autumn my dad threw truckloads of wood into the basement to heat the house for the winter. He would back the truck up to the lower level window and let it run while we “helped” unload it. We pretended that the exhaust of the truck was smoke from our burning house and that we had to try to get out safely (and as dramatically as possible). Running in circles, waiving our arms and screaming for help, until dad yelled at us to shut up, was our idea of fun.

I always had fun, but to this day my siblings beg to differ. They recently looked at pictures of one of the many times I made my brother be the altar boy and my little sisters be the nuns as I transformed the living room into my very own Catholic church. I once got in trouble for stealing a hymnal and service book from church so I could do the full mass when I played at home. My siblings always begged to quit as I started my sermon, so I had to tempt them by uncovering the “communion.” This usually kept their interest long enough to get through nearly the entire service.
One of my favorite games of all time was Bus Driver. I took every chair I could find in the house and lined them up in the dining room as I forced my siblings to stand outside and wait for me, the bus driver, to pick them up for school. That was it.
I can’t even begin to tell you why this was my favorite game. It is probably because one of the many career choices I chose as a child was to be a bus driver.
Looking back, I’m surprised my siblings ever played any of my games. I probably didn’t give them a choice. I might as well have been the one chasing them with a wooden spoon.

Almost

I was 19 days shy of being a bastard. My parents always told me that I was the product of a “blessed union of love in marriage.” They also told me they have been strict Catholics since the day they were born. This leads me to believe that a shotgun is where the “blessed union” part comes in when a pregnant 17-year-old marries a 21-year-old. No? Then the only other alternative is that I am a miracle baby. With my parents’ strong Catholic belief, sex before marriage was obviously out of the question—or is it just birth control that’s unheard of at the Vatican? Going along with the former, I conclude that I was conceived, carried, and delivered in the span of 19 miraculous days.
Imagine the delight of a girl, who almost graduated from high school, and a boy, who spends the rest of his days working at a boat factory to make ends meet, welcoming their beautiful pink bundle into the world! I’m sure my arrival brought tears to many an eye, but I’m doubtful they were tears of joy or celebration.
The odds were stacked against me from the day I was conceived. I can look through my mom’s old photo albums and see her striking poses at six, seven, and eight months pregnant, slamming beers and smoking cigarettes. To this day, whenever I look through those photos, my brother snidely comments, “It sure explains a lot, Stace.”
The thing is, he doesn’t realize how close things were to being different.
Apparently, not as a result of the drinking and smoking, I had to spend several weeks down at “The U” when I was born because I was hydrocephalic—I had water on my brain.
It looks like I’m somewhat of a double miracle. Not only was I almost a bastard, but I was almost a retarded bastard.

Despite my parents being married at such a young age, they thought having one child wasn’t enough and decided to have my brother Jesse a few years later, my sister Sarah a few years after that, and my other sister Jenny a few years after that. It’s hard for me to imagine that my mom had four children when she was my age now.
My mom was a homemaker until just a few years ago and gracefully grew into it from as far back as I can remember. She was a very traditional wife and mother—cooking, cleaning and caring constantly. She did them all, and still does, better than anyone I know. She was the primary caregiver during my childhood, since my dad was always working. Her method of discipline was “the stick.” The stick was a wooden kitchen spoon, about eight inches long. When fights between siblings erupted, she shouted, “I’m getting the stick!” In our younger years, it was a threat. That eventually changed.
Around 10 years of age, I was in a hair-pulling match with my brother. We were warned with the stick, but chose to ignore. A few minutes more of screaming and mom came stomping, spoon in hand, proceeded by my brother and I taking off through the other side of the living room. This made my mom even angrier and scared us—or so we thought. I had never actually been hit by the stick and wasn’t sure how it would feel, but always imagined it to be very painful. When my mom finally caught me by a hard yank of the ponytail, I realized I was as tall as she was and bigger as well.
When the spoon hit my behind, I squealed “nooo!” but started laughing as it came out. She walked out of the room without another word. I knew she was turning me over to the wolves. When I say the wolves, I mean my dad.

My dad was a workaholic growing up. I don’t remember him much from my childhood, except when he yelled at us. Once a week he stayed home with us while my mom had her “night out” to go grocery shopping. I dreaded those nights because I walked on eggshells. He was like a volcano waiting to erupt. If I saw toys on the living room floor and heard my dad’s footsteps coming, I would be sure to quickly move the toys aside, knowing my dad would step on one, hurt his foot and spend the remainder of the evening screaming at us.
I don’t think he realized how much energy he wasted being loud and angry. All he had to do was snap his fingers and point and I ran to my room crying. This further escalated into, “Quit crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!” I always wondered why parents said that, because it never worked. It only made kids (me) cry even more.
Upon growing up and getting to know my dad’s family more intimately, I began to understand why he is the way he is. His dad committed suicide when my dad was a child, leaving my grandma with three young boys. My grandma then went through marriage after marriage, soon adopting the secret nickname “Grandma Liz.”
Because my parents were so young when I was born, our relationship has always been one more categorized as friendship, rather than parent/child. I protected them from a lot of my childhood that I knew they weren’t prepared to handle as parents. This really is where the miracle comes into play I suppose, that a near retarded bastard, such as myself, could be sitting here typing this for others to read. Although, when my mom reads this, I suspect “the stick” may see the light of day again.

I MISS YOU, BEAR!

To be Young Again!

I am so in love with my Godchild! Her mommy always sends me pictures at the perfect moment. Here is one for today:

To be Alive in 2005

It's the second day in this new year and I just punched out and am happy to drag myself upstairs to rest for a while. Colds and crap are starting to take us all over and I'm trying my best not to get as bad as everyone else. Of course, it's "break" so I MUST get sick. What the hell does "break" mean anyway?

It's a break from teaching I guess, but that time has been quickly replaced with hours at the house so Justin could go home for a much needed vacation, housekeeping jobs and planning for next semester.

My cardio-kickboxing instructor is out until the end of the month. She had to have her gallbladder removed after Christmas. I hope she recovers fast so I can get back to her class. I am absolutely addicted to this stuff--empowered! I feel strong and like I could kick major ass while I'm there and for days after. I wish it were more than three days a week. I've gotten into jogging the other days and now that I'll be at BSU again next semester, will sign up for a membership there for the bitter cold days that are yet to be felt. I dread them. I hope this is one of my last winters in Minnesota. I love Minnesota, but every year I become less and less able to cope with this drastic temperature drop. This is my first winter on anti-depressants and I'm hoping that will help my tolerance.

This time of year always causes me to relfect on what I was doing last January and all of the things that have taken place in the last twelve months.

• Had a mental breakdown.
  
• Began taking Celexa for depression (long overdue).
• Was diagnosed with eating disorder(s).
• Blew smoke up therapists asses as they tried to "cure" me.
• Got a frog tattoo.
  
• Presented at a conference at NDSU and wasn't even nervous.
• Had another mental breakdown.
  
• Finished & defended my master's thesis.
• Rec'd my diploma & hung it on the wall.
• Had major surgery (first time ever in the hospital).
• Accepted a marriage proposal.
• Planned an entire wedding all by myself in less than a month.
• Had a mental breakdown.
  
• Grandma was diagnosed with cancer and passed away within about two weeks.
• Had a mental breakdown.
  
• I watched the other Grandma have a house literally moved to a field and move in a few months later.
• Taught at two brand new schools.
• Took a yoga class for the first time.
• Took a belly-dancing class for the first time.
• Bought a wedding dress.
• Learned who my real friends are (and aren't!).
• Had a mental breakdown.
  
• My vehicle's window was smashed in for the first time by a stranger.
• Came to several harsh realizations about my relationship(s) with my family.
• Accepted a teaching position for next semester at BSU.
• Paid for an entire wedding (photographer, dj, decorator, dress, hall, caterer, etc.), 4 months ahead of time, all by myself.
• Realized Justin and I should have just kept the money and gone some place far away and been married alone.
• Accepted the fact that only one person truly knows me for ME.
• Saw three men very important to me be deployed to serve our country.
• Desperately wished I could live any life but mine, just for one day.
• Spent New Year's Eve cleaning up puke and poop AGAIN!
• Had a mental breakdown.

Crazy crazzzzzzzy lists. I should rest. I became a housekeeper a few weeks ago to make some cash on the side. I go to three homes so far and bust my ass between everything else with hopes of ... of what? I guess with hopes of having some money saved up by the time we get married so I don't have to rush right back to a job. I'm really hoping we'll be moving away this summer, but nobody knows yet because if it doesn't happen, I don't want them bugging me about stuff. Wait and see what happens with Justin's plan--hopefully he'll know very soon. I'm so thankful for him.

Will wonders ever cease?

I started my own business to make some extra wedding money (in addition to my other jobs!).

Please take a stroll through my site and feel free to spend lots (or a little) of money!

I'm killing some time before I teach my next class and have become comfortable in this sort of reflective mode over the last few days.

I just realized I do not feel like posting here at all today. I just want to be done teaching so I can go workout and meet Justin at The Cabin to do lesson plans. He understands me so well.

Yesterday he told me that he's addicted to my smile. He's usually responsible for that teethy grin.

Thank you God for true love.

What to say?

I have to go back home again tomorrow to help care for my dying grandma. "It's only a matter of time." I hate that phrase. I think it's more comforting for those who are being left behind to care for her at home than it even is for her. She is nearly unresponsive anyway, but it alleviates the helplessness we (I) felt when she was in the hospital. All I could do there was rub lotion on her feet and legs and paint her lovely fingernails. I cried at her bedside and rubbed her hair like I do my special Katie Bear when she is in a snuggly mood. My Grandma is no longer the big beautiful vivacious woman I thought her to be. She is little and fragile. Everything I learned about being a woman has come from her. As I think of entering into marriage without her here I become terrified and lost.

Justin starts his pedagogy and theory classes today and will be immersed in books and syllabi and handouts for the next few weeks until he starts his graduate teaching experience. He will be much happier and content being out of that stupid office job and back to school full-time. He has a true gift for words. As he begins, I'm thrilled to be done with that chapter of my life. I loved graduate school, but it was more competitive and demanding than I could have ever predicted. I actually got choked up during my hooding at commencement and found out later that even my dad cried. Crazy things. So now I keep working with the "special" ones, with Kate always nursing my ego, telling me I'm beautiful and that she loves me. I'll also be teaching a couple classes at the technical college and at the Christian college. Thank God for those liberal education courses! What's so fantastic is that I merely sent my resume and vita for them to have on file a few weeks before my surgery in June. It couldn't have been an easier process. I do wish it were permanent though. Adjunct is fair money, but offers no benefits, keeping me with the "house" so I can keep my health insurance and PTO. It works.

I keep wondering what it will be like if Grandma dies when I'm there over the next few days. It is very likely and scares me and fascinates me at the same time. I hope it's a beautiful moment. She deserves it.

I've finally decided to come back to my poor, lonely little blog. It's been revived and now I'm just killing time while my boyfriend sits and pretends to work for another 90 minutes! AHHH!

I made her…
She is different, she’s unique.
With love I formed her in her
Mother’s womb.
I fashioned her with great joy.
I remember, with great pleasure,
The day I created her.

I love her smile.
I love her ways.
I love to hear her laugh
And the silly things she says and does
She brings me great pleasure.
This is how I made her.

I made her pretty and not beautiful,
because I knew her heart, and I
knew she would be vain.
I wanted her to search out her
heart, and to learn that it would
be me in her that would draw friends to her.

I made her in such a way, that she would need me.
I made her a little more lonesome that she would like to be.
Only because I needed for her to learn to depend on me.
I knew her heart, I know if I had not made her like this she would go her own chosen way and forget me…her creator.

I have given her many good and happy things…because I love her.

Because I love her, I have seen her broken heart…
and the tears she cried alone.
I have cried with her, and had a broken heart, too.

Many times she has stumbled and fallen alone, only because she would not hold my hand.
So many lessons she’s learned the hard way because she would not listen to my voice.

So many times I have sat back and sadly watched her go her merry way alone.
Only to watch her return to my arms, sad and broken.

And now she’s mine again…
I made her, then I bought her…
because I love her.

I have to reshape and remold her…
to renew her to what I had planned for her to be.
It has not been easy for her or for me.

I want her to be conformed to my image…
This high goal I have set for her,
because I love her.

The hardest work a woman ever does is to smile when it's the last thing in the world she feels like doing.

I'm feeling sort of sad today and don't know what to do about it. It's mostly the result of being on the tail-end of sick and feeling lonely. I saw a bunch of my good friends this weekend. We haven't all been together in about two years. It was such a wonderful time, but made me very sad to come home. I miss those times. The year that we all were inseperable was easily the best year of my life. The only thing that will top that is when I can be with Justin in person for more than a temporary visit.

I find myself evaluating who I am now, compared to who I was then (when all my friends lived here). We've all changed, but not as much as I thought. The core of our friendship was still as strong as ever and I miss who I was then as well. We all need people. It's not good for anyone to be alone all the time. I, more than anyone else in the entire world, can attest to that. It's hard to be happy when the best times of your life are behind you and in front of you, but not happening right now. It's a tough balancing act to continually feel loss and hope at the same time.

So, needy Stacey really wants someone to reach out to her right now. The attempts I've made today weren't very fruitful, due to nobody's fault, it's just that life happens. Lawnwork needs to be done, bar needs to be tended, naps need to be taken. Three strikes is my maximum, so I settled for some time by the lake. Now I'm home as the "kids" are out for a couple hours and think I'm going to go veg. on the living room couch so as to avoid thinking for a while. I suspect I'll go back to the lake this evening...although unpacking would make more sense. I really dislike things undone.

Ho-hum.

I leave today to spend a week of heaven with my bear!!!!!!!!!

I want to go for a jog to burn off some of this energy, but it's gloom and doom rain. Blah. I think I'll settle for a little stretching and ab workout after I eat some breakfast.

It feels so good to be loved like this.

I received a wonderful surprise from my boy and some co-workers!!! All behind my back, they purchased tickets and got me a week off to head to Kansas to be with my man!!!!!!!!!! I am in eternal bliss having him in my life.

I'm so angry!
My sister was visiting and while she was here, her car window was punched in and her cd's and cd player stolen. There was blood all over her seats from the fucker that did this. I called law enforcement to come and do a report for my sister for insurance purposes. While they were here, they told us that just a few houses down someone's entire car was stolen. I guess my sister is "fortunate" in that respect. Ass. This makes me so mad. Why my sister, of all people, and not me??? She doesn't deserve this. I suppose nobody DESERVES it, but I tend to believe in karma and Sarah is such a "good" person. Except for last night when I made her steal a couple dollars off the table next to us when we were leaving the restaurant because neither of us had enough money to include a tip. The people who left just before us left an outstanding tip. Yeah, I'm already going to hell, I know it, but my sister was forced to be an accomplice in my mayhem. Poor girl. Look what happens.

I'm drunk.

Not because I'm drunk, I miss my baby bear like crazzzzzzzy.

I can't wait to talk to him tomorrow and tell him how much I love him and miss him.

I wish he was the one I was snuggling into bed with tonight.

Just got back from the gym---spent nearly 2 hours there thinking about my bear and wanting to make him proud. I am so excited to talk to him tomorrow and hear all about his weekend.

My love treated me to a special package in the mail today. We purchased our tickets this week for him to stay here for 2 weeks in Sept. and for me to go there over Thanksgiving for a week. I am completely enamored by the treasure that is he and since I got back from my jog, I can only snuggle up in bed with the sweet smelling gift he sent me (it's a secret).

The best gift of all were his words. He wrote me a poem that I am so proud to share.

To be as special as you,
the world must turn to star.
In my eyes you're brilliant,
shimmering in the natural light.
Never in a life can one
have grown so lucky
to have met an angel
and captured her heart
away from heaven.

Love always,
Justin "Bear"

He is gone for the weekend at the lake with his best friend, Clint, and I look forward to the time where he can relax and "be a guy" and I can fantasize about all the ways I want to make him happy for the rest of his life. I am the luckiest woman alive to know love like this.

I've been neglecting posting here for a while. Life has had a lot of changes over the last several weeks. I finished the semester by some great miracle that I never thought I'd see! I also have fallen in love--another great miracle that I never thought I'd see. I've never in my life felt what I feel with this man. I've never in my life told a man that I love him, yet, after a mere 7 weeks and 1 day I know that he is the man I will spend the rest of my life with. I couldn't have possibly created a man more perfect for me, this is true. In this short time, he has seen me at my worst and probably has yet to see me at my best and still says he loves me! Just the other day he sent me an email that I have to share simply because I couldn't have imagined that this kind of love would ever happen to me...to Stacey...it always happens to someone else...

Here I am, sitting at the computer thinking of something grand and highly original to say to you. Last night's conversation was wonderful. I loved you so much when we hung up last night that I had to sit and think about it for awhile. I have discovered the reason why I love you so much and so readily. I really feel that life without you would have been terrible. I really do. Think about that day, April 12th it was. We've talked about this before, but I think it bares repeating here. It could have never happened. EVER! How crazy am I to continue thinking about it? Well, I'll tell you. Simply put, having you in my life has enriched me so much. I find that I am interested in new things that I would have never thought to look into if it wasn't for you. Things like the book "Tuesdays with Morrie" for example. That book touched me in so many ways and
I feel so much closer to you for having received it from you and read it. It truly touched me and I love you for that. This idea of being touched to my very soul is what makes me love you. You said the other night that you wondered why I loved you sometimes. Well, that's it. Right there, plain as day. I love you because you are full of meaning. Intricate things that make you who you are. I've come to appriciate the ways in which you touch me by letting me see inside you. You are so open and honest with me that I cannot believe that anyone could be more so. You are an enlightening woman, Stacey Steinkopf, and I would be so honored to have you in my life for the
rest of it. To that end, I would also like to say to you that I have never had anything resembling what we have with any other girl. You are by far the greatest treasure that I have ever found in this world and I thank God everyday that I wake up and know you are somewhere in my life. That somewhere is at the head of it. Stacey, as many times as I say this you're probably tired of hearing it (or not, which is good too) but you are truly the most lovely woman in my eyes. Everything you are is wonderful to me. Each time we talk it's as if I have discovered something wonderful that's only for me. I feel special just to be able to say "Stacey Steinkopf? Yeah, I know her. She's the best." It will probably embarass you to hear that last statement, but humility is one thing that makes you the woman you are. You are never cocky, you give credit
where it's due, and you find time to be a help to others. You make me so proud in everything you do that I just have to say it a million times a day and it still doesn't feel like enough. Stacey, I find something in you that I just cannot get over. It's many things really, but they are all you. Every part of you is special and I love you for letting me into your world and showing me that love truly exists in this reality. Thank you so much for knowing me and wanting to have me in your life. It's a very wonderful experience that I hope will never end.


I love you baby.

Justin

To have this love, I am the one who is truly blessed. May God grant you all the gift of feeling like this some day.

I stumbled upon this site that is a daily journaling prompt thing. I need to get back into some writing just for me and think this will be a great way to trigger some thoughts and ideas, especially for my upcoming memoir writing class.

Today's question is: If you could accomplish only one thing in the rest of your life, what would it be?

This is a very difficult question for me. There are so many things I want to accomplish that to choose just one FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, wow! nearly impossible. For the sake of answering, my instinct is to say "Find true love" but is that something I can "accomplish" or is it something that just happens or doesn't happen.

I want to truly know someone as my soulmate. I DO believe such a thing exists and that there is one person created for each of us.

However, not so long ago, after a handful of miserable experiences in the dating world, I told my mom I was never dating again, much less getting married. To which she replied, "Do you really think it's up to you?" (Insinuating that God would decide.)

My response: "If God wants me to even consider getting married, the man of my dreams is going to have to show up at my doorstep, escorted by 2 angels, holding a certified letter signed in the blood of Jesus Christ! THENNNNNN maybe I'll consider the idea."

Love, come and get me, I dare ya.

I'm not sure what the Ms. Weiner stuff was all about, but now it works from home...hmmm...

Anyway, I'm irritated. Not about the Weiner thing anymore, but about this bitchass hoe who is a nurse where I live/work. Not only with her, but also the other girl who is here working with the kids tonight.

I made chili for dinner tonight. Vegetarian chili. Now, vegetarian chili usually means not made with meat and using vegetarian beans also...well, MY vegetarian chili includes VEGETABLES. Is that so bad?

The punkass nurse comes in and says, "Oh my, what smells so good?"

The shitty staff, "Stacey made chili for dinner tonight."

"Ohhhhhh! WIth carrots? How, um, interesting!" as the nurse leans her friggen face over the chili to inhale.

"Yeah, there are carrots and celery and cucumber and God only knows what else!" the shitty staff says sarcastically.

"Those are NOT cucumbers, they are zuccini! There is a difference!" I yell from my computer upstairs.

WHORESSSSSSSSSSSSS. Open up your f'ing mind you red neck honkies.

Ok, i'm trying to post to this blog and when i attempt to open the url it's about some author...jennifer weiner.......hmmmmmmm

A girl came skipping home from school one day. "Mommy, Mommy," she yelled, "we were counting today, and all the other kids could only count to four, but I counted to 10. See? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!"
"Very good," said her mother. "Is it because I'm blonde, Mommy?"
"Yes, it's because you're blonde."
The next day the girl came skipping home from school. "Mommy, Mommy,"
She yelled, "we were saying the alphabet today, and all the other kids could only say it to D, but I said it to G. See? A,
B, C, D, E, F, G!"
"Very good," said her mother.
"Is it because I'm blonde, Mommy?"
"Yes, it's because you're blonde."
The next day the girl came skipping home from school. "Mommy,Mommy,"she yelled, "we were in gym class today, and when
we showered, all the other girls had flat chests, but I have these!"
And she lifted her tank top to reveal a pair of 36C's encased in a plum-colored Victoria's Secret Angel bra.
"Very good," said her embarrassed mother.

"Is it because I'm blonde, Mommy?"

"No, Sweetie, it' because you're 23."

sorry, one more time.

testing again, trying to get comments to work.

testing

Goinggggggg outttttt offffff townnnnn.

Weeeeeeeeeeeee.

...so out of anything to motivate me to keep going this semester...
I want to:
quit school
quit work
tell work to fuck off
move
change my name
start over
never see another retarded person in my life
sell my soul for enough money to have complete reconstructive surgery on my ugly self
(not necessarily in that order)

As corky the retard sang, "Obla dee obla da, life goes on" whether I like it or not.

Studio Tours Part II
I’m excited that this is (hopefully) the last time I have to do this.
I’ll be painfully honest in saying that my engine has run out of steam. I think it’s this shitty weather. It’s like kryptonite to my attitude and ambition.

I’m asking 99.9 points for this assignment, .1 points taken off for my shitty attitude.

Anyway…

Femina Mosaic

I have been reading this blog since Faith created it a few weeks ago, without reading the new project proposal. It’s interesting to me that it takes on new meaning now understanding the thought behind it. The writing is all there and still the same, but how I read and interact with it is not.

While reading it before, I view myself as an outsider—someone just nosing around, enjoying the writing, without allowing myself to establish little connection. More than not allowing, I wasn’t even considering the idea. Until reading in her project proposal:

“It is my belief, that the way that women hold each other up and communicate with each other is a source of great strength in our lives. Indirectly, we all benefit from this. I want to explore this form of communication by providing a writing space for women to share what they wish about their lives.”

I am a woman. This appeal to be “let in” on something more than just reading someone’s online journal made me connect to the posts in an entirely new way. I like that. Connection!

When I first received the invite to join this blog, I didn’t respond, assuming it was another one of those accidental mass invites. Now, I’m excited to participate and communicate with the other amazing women already there.

The title is perfect for the intent of the blog and I see this project continuing well outside the end of the semester. Faith is creating bonds, bonds that are not confined to any boundaries but those of the technical realm (which are hell sometimes!). I could see that the time constraint of beginning the blog mid-semester would affect the class of seeing how the communication would evolve, but I hope I’m there and a participant when it does!
p.s. for reader convenience, could you create a link on your project proposal to your blog?

“Sweet Caroline. Dah dah da. Good times never seemed so good!”
Again, I’m fortunate to be writing about a blog I frequently visit. I’m so blessed.

I feel I should start by saying that Caroline should become a participant in the Femina Mosaic blog (if she is not already).

In Caroline’s proposal, she says that her intent is to “create a blog that discusses main areas of my personal life, school life and just life in general. I will use the blog to journal about my diabetes, my school life as an older than average student, my favorite tool (my computer) and what I do in my free time.”

She covers each of those topics in her almost daily posts. She is faithful to her blog and the posts usually start out talking about class and school schedule and then a general run down of what her day includes.

Having been a regular reader of her blog from the very beginning, I admit to seeing a little less “Caroline” in the posts lately. Yes, she covers the above mentioned topics, but as a reader (not that she’s writing for me, but allow me to throw my 2 cents out there) I sometimes wonder about things BEYOND what she does.

For example, an excerpt from today’s post (4/20):
“So last night my husband set up the baskets without me, again with the chocolate. Then we delivered the baskets to bedroom doors at 6 am. I snoozed for another hour, before starting the Sunday morning routine of getting kids up one at a time, for the shower. At 10 we were at church, 'til 1. We had an early dinner, so the teens who had to work could have a Sunday dinner with us, it went really well. My husband can cook anytime he wants, well maybe. He made Baked Alaska from a recipe from a co-worker. It was good, but too much frosting. This from someone who can eat frosting from the container. “

That’s a lot of dang information packed into one paragraph!

I found myself wondering how the kids react to their Easter baskets. They are teens, do they care? Were they excited? Did they sleepily trip over them on their way to the shower? Does church always lost from 10-1? How did Caroline feel about her teens having to work on Easter? Does this obviously caring mom wish she could have her family home? etc. etc.

Although, I know Caroline has 6 writing classes this semester, so going into an elaboration on the blog may be very low priority on her list. Not only that, but this could be an intentional move on her part.

The posts vary in length, it seems depending on the day’s activities. It’s clear that Caroline is really “in to” her blog and the act of blogging. It’s a great diary for any woman to have at the end of the day to realize just how productive she is!

Keep being sweet, Caroline.


Traveling Back in Time With Ayleen

I have a real aversion for in progress wikis. I felt disappointed that I would get to Ayleen at around 10 years old and then stop. This is obviously a work in progress and not me commenting on Ayleen’s work. It is simply an observation I make about my reading wikis vs. blogs. I wonder how this project would be in blog form. I think that would be next to impossible to do. Since the current time passing has nothing to do with the past…or something. I’m getting off track, sorry.

I think this is a great idea for a project and is definitely fun to be reading and checking back on. The site map is a MAJOR necessity and I recommend putting a link to that closer to the top of middle of the page, rather than the bottom. I’ve gone through the wiki without following the site map and it’s possible to navigate, but more confusion than the reader “should” have. Ayleen’s expertise in creating the site map is brilliant. Show it off.

Ayleen is a techno-mastermind and it clearly shows in her layout and organization of the wiki.

It’s interesting to read her memories in comparison to her mom’s of the same time period. I hope she sees this project through to completion. I recall reading in Caroline’s revised project proposal that Ayleen was experiencing some “ho-hum” feelings toward this wiki. I could see running out of steam for a big project such as this, but keep with it!!

Alyeen does a good job of having a variety of links in the text and making sure there is a link to “home” on each page. Dr. Morgan learned her well.

I find myself curious how it is to do a project wiki with another person, especially outside the class. Easy? Difficult? I look forward to Ayleen’s end of the term report to learn answers to those questions.

Can't feel legs...seriously overworked muscles at gym today...last day of my life as a 25 yr. old.

Give me sleep or give me death.

Last night was a little better for sleep. My body and mind finally gave in about 2:30 this morning, only 4 hours after I tried going to bed. I think a nap is in order for this afternoon, before bible study tonight.

It looks like it's going to be another beautiful day outside. I'm loving this. I hope it keeps up for this weekend. I'm excited to get out of town.

I have GOT to shake this bout of insomnia! I haven't slept more than 3 hours a night for almost a week now. Today was the worst. I felt like I had the worst hangover and couldn't hold a conversation to save my life. Fortunately, I was able to come home at the end of the day and collapse on my bed into deep sleep...finally. Hopefully that doesn't keep me from sleeping well tonight.

I think it's the combination of the time change, the dramatic weather change, my 26th birthday in a few days (it's bothering me more than I'm letting on), the end of the semester is in view, etc....

Ok, I have too much work to do to be wasting my time here.

You think my blog is dull? The most exciting person in the world referred me to the dullest blog in the world. Enjoy!

Response to Birkerts

The most difficult thing about doing these response assignments is trying to decide which “hat” I want to wear while I approach the material. I find myself reading certain ideas as a student, and then shifting to the role of teacher, reading things in a much different way. While reading the chapters from Birkerts, I not only bounced between those two identities, but in addition to that, I was just plain Stacey—avid reader.

It’s my fear of commitment that has caused me to respond to Birkerts’ chapter 8 touching on each of the three identities I just mentioned.

Stacey the Student

Birkerts raises a very interesting issue of the electronic age affecting our historical tradition. He states, “The underlying question, avoided by many, may be not only whether the tradition is relevant, but whether it might be too taxing for students to comprehend.” My initial reaction to that, as a student, is that I feel like what is expected of me, as opposed to students even 10 years ago, has dramatically decreased. What’s wrong with a student being taxed? I’m guilty of being a lazy thinker and often am surprised at how little is expected of me as a student, because educators don’t want to overload students.

The premise Birkerts points out is “…If electronic media are the one thing that the young are at ease with, why not exploit the fact?” As a student, I love the idea of my education conforming to what is familiar to me. Technology is modern and interactive and appeals in a very deliberate “what you see is what you get” kind of way. It changes as quickly as we are introduced to it that it leaves me with a no-commitment, fly by night, less appreciated view of what I’m learning. I feel less pressure to meet standards as I see accommodations being made all the time to suite today’s students. At what point did the education system feel so pressured to adapt itself for individuals, rather than individuals adapt to get through the system?

Are they (the system and the students) any better off while it has changed?

This is the perfect place to transition to:

Stacey the Teacher

Birkerts raises questions regarding Calabrese’s observation on the preconditioning of students, saying, “Should we suppose that American education will begin to tailor itself to the aptitudes of its students, presenting more and more of its materials in newly packaged forms? And what will happen when educators find that not very many of the old materials will “play”—that is, capture student enthusiasm? Is the what of learning to be determined by the how?”

As a teacher, there is extreme pressure to present material in such a way that engages the students. I often feel like the responsibility is solely my own and that the students EXPECT me to make things fun and exciting and to make the connections for them. Sometimes the thinking of “If they don’t care, why should I?” makes it’s way to my head. In high school and various post-secondary courses, I couldn’t imagine having anything other than the approach of: This is the material, this is what you should know by the end of the class, let’s get to it!

The first time education adapted to ME, I was exhilarated, delighted, and didn’t miss a day of class. I also became very disappointed when classes that followed weren’t like that. Having experienced both sides of the fence makes me want to be the kind of teacher that will adapt material where needed for the success of my classroom. But, is it simply the success of my classroom and less the success of the students? If I can see the expectations in education lowering as a student, I definitely feel that as a teacher. I agree with Birkerts in the grave affect it’s having in our classrooms. Technology does so much of the thinking for students. Birkerts says, “Many educators say that our students are less and less able to read, or analyze, or write with clarity and purpose. Who can blame the students? Everything they meet with the world around them gives the signal: That was then, and electronic communications are now.”

In my classroom, I’m amazed at the low functionality that some of the students are coming to college with. I wonder how they made it through their own high school commencement when they can’t read or write above an 8th grade level. What I struggle with is trying to discover how I can raise the standards? If they come in to my classroom at such low levels, having out of range expectations, which at one time were standard, serve no purpose. So, again, adaptation wins out. I feel like I’m beating a dead horse. What’s the answer? I really want to talk about this with someone. Any takers?

Stacey the Reader

Just the other day I was having a conversation with someone about online books. I love to read, but have an extremely difficult time reading large amounts and for extended time periods on the computer. I like the completeness that a book offers. In my trying to find the difference between hypertext and hypermedia last week, I recall reading the words “perpetually unfinished” in a piece. That is how I feel when reading hypertext. I think people take for granted the security that goes with reading in book form. For a number of reasons, I could be reading hypertext one day and try to access the same material several days later and it may not exist. Am I the only person frightened by this?

Birkerts says, “The print engagement is essentially private.” He also talks about the time aspect of turning the pages, etc. I think the scrolling and clicking of electronic medium are comparable to the page turning in hard copy.

I enjoy nothing more than sitting down with a book. I appreciate the portability and the security it provides.

I have to ask though, why is it not an option for both to exist in today’s society? Birkerts seems to have an “all or none” approach that makes me feel guilty for loving books as much as I love doing hypertext. Is it not possible for people to develop an appreciation for both? I suppose it’s all about balance. As a student, it’s impossible to rely entirely upon electronic media for my education. I know that and I really hope incoming students know that. As a teacher, if I instill the value of my appreciation of books to my students, they are at least exposed to it and hopefully capable of making an informed decision as to what they prefer. And as Stacey the reader, I yet again find myself riding the fence here. It’s not my computer I read while easing myself into the world on a Saturday morning. Nor is it books that I read when I am plagued by insomnia late at night.

Birkerts ended chapter 8 with a melodramatic, “…for language is the soul’s ozone layer and we thin it at our peril.”
Whether books or electronic media, I think language can survive the electronic revolution. It’s the people who use it that I’m worried about!

I don't know why the linking isn't working on the previous post. It is probably my parents' crappy computer. C & P: www.heavyweight.blogspot.com

I decided to start the food/exercise blog that I've been contemplating doing for a while now. It's all stuff I was keeping in a journal in Microsoft Word, but like the idea of it being semi-public. Why does that sound strange to me?
Anyway, if you have no life and want to see what that part of my life is like, be my guest.

Why am I not surprised?

Today is payday from one of my jobs--my main income job. Every other Thursday, my check is directly deposited into my account. Today is different for some reason.

I checked for the money at 3 different times this morning and it wasn't there, so I called my bank to see if maybe it just hadn't been posted yet. Nope, not there. I called my boss, who called someone, who called someone else, and finally found out that they sent my money to another bank where I had an account (but closed it) over a year ago. I've spent the last hour on the phone with the old bank, the new bank, my boss, someone's secretary, and still have no answer as to when I might get paid.

This fucking (pardon my language, but I'm really irritated) agency has done nothing but screw me over every time I've worked for them. Obviously why would this time be any different? On a positive note: I get paid from BSU tomorrow, so I'll have that money to get me through the weekend travel expenses, etc.

People irritate the shit out of me sometimes.

It's mid-afternoon and I'm home, heading to bed for a nap. I started taking some new vitamins today and they are making me feel "off." Off in the sense that they cleaned out my intestines in a very forceful manner. I need to recover from the traumatic experience.

Before I get to my recovering, I need to send many applauds and congratulations to a classmate who informed me today that he received one of the highly competed for internship positions for the writer's conference BSU is hosting in June. Good for you, Karl!! I couldn't handpick a more qualified individual myself.

You're total comes to $4.25, please pull ahead to the second window. Thank you.

It's a gloomy day, but still a great day to be outside. I just finished doing some raking and then played some rough and tough basketball--by myself. I'm regressing into the stage of having imaginary friends and basketball opponents!

Why is raking "fun" in the spring? Cabin fever, I suppose. I despise winter so much.

I was talking to a friend of mine who used to live in Bemidji but now lives in Pasadena. (This friend actually exists!) She suggested I look into applying for a job at Pasadena City College when I'm done with my graduate studies. I'm already fine-tuning my resume.

My "roommates" are becoming ill, one by one (yes, they actually exist as well). I'm trying to stay away with the hopes that it might bypass my immune system. Illness is just so annoying.

My head hurts.

It's been a while. I haven't felt much like posting here. I still don't really as I sit and write this.
I just got back from a painful walk, with the rain/snow stinging my face. Tonight, sometime after 6:00 pm is the beginning of Spring. Bullshit.

War has begun. Even in the beginning of the world upheaval, love still prevails. I happened to be visiting family this weekend, when we had a great surprise! I'm blessed to have been there for it all.

Yesterday I had a conversation with a good friend about committment. "Committment's not just me loving you as long as I am emotionally attached to you..."

I wonder how people find the strength to be dedicated like that. I imagine that's the beauty of true love.

Sonnet XVII

Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

STUDIO TOURS

I've been assigned to tour the following blogs and comment on them as directed in the assignment link above:

Walk Away Renee
joggua
At a loss...for words

Keep on walking, Renee!

Walk Away Renee is one of the blogs I've visited on a regular basis throughout the semester, so I was glad to see this was one of the three I am to comment on.

I've always appreciated the honesty of Renee's posts. She keeps readers attention by her great use of links throughout her text. For me, it's like opening a fortune cookie when I click on the links, wondering where it's going to take me and how it relates to what she's talking about in her blog. I compare it to a puzzle sometimes, trying to find the connection path of her text to the reasoning behind a chosen link. In my opinion, this sort of deliberate action is what often keeps a reader coming back for more.

I hadn't read Renee's project proposal until this assignment and was surprised to discover another part of the project that I had no idea existed until now. It got me to thinking about the fact that I was reading her blog for the last several weeks, in a perspective totally outside of what it seemed was the intention of her proposal. I'm not saying that's good or bad, merely an observation.

The proposal indicates that she wants to do reflection of her non-English classes. Specifically, the Focus says, "I will post weblog entries that focus on topics from non-English classes I have taken at Bemidji State University. In my blog I will strive for a casual contemplation approachable through an organized topical structure of the wiki, which I will use to report on my blog." I looked through the class cubby independently and attempted to cross-reference them to the posts on her blog and had a difficult time making the connection. This could in part be due to the fact that I already have a bit of a personal "attachment" of sorts to her blog. It's almost as though I don't want the structured academic part that she talks about in her proposal to taint the beauty and freedom that I appreciate already. I'm curious if her project has simply changed from what she intended or maybe I'm making a completely incorrect observation.

From Walking to Jogging

Murray's joggua is also on my list of favorites, long before this assignment. Josh is following his proposal exactly as planned.
His posts tend to be responses to things in the news and I give him major props for often posting his response in the same style as what he is reading. I get a commentary, journalism "feel" while reading Murray's posts. Even as some are very casual in tone, they are consistently giving me the impression of being deliberate and well-planned. There are times where he lets the readers in to have a view of who he is as a person, but then others where he keeps his distance, each time exercising those decisions very effectively.

I like the links to the left of his entries to the various news sources he is using. I recall the first time I visited this project that it gave me a brief glimpse of what kind of responses I might be reading. My brother always says you can tell a lot about a person by where they get their news. Only recently did I start to consider this....

I find myself wondering about the story of the "Open Door" knowing there must be a great story behind it. In my opinion, joggua is probably doing exactly what pioneer bloggers hoped blogging would become.

Finally at a Loss After Walking and Jogging

How lucky am I to have three of the blogs I visit in a regular basis be part of my assignment rotation?

Jessica's At a loss...for words is of particular personal interest for me because I was going to keep a similar blog for my project, but decided I wasn't brave enough to expose myself to the class, finally agreeing to continue the dieting diary I've been keeping in Microsoft Word, with the promise to switch to blog once the semester is over.

I love the honesty of her posts and the way she integrates humor so effectively while speaking to a topic that is sometimes touchy in our society. I am able to see her coming to realizations about herself right in the middle of some of her posts, which is exciting for me as a reader. I find myself wishing she would go into more depth in her posts about how she is feeling physically, mentally, and emotionally--along with when she eats what she eats and how much and wondering if there is any correlation between any of it. Possessing the hectic life of a student, I imagine it's difficult to keep up with the blog and as a simple suggestion wonder if posting several short entries a day, rather than one summative entry would be more effective for her schedule and for the overall success of the blog.

Though it may be difficult to find the benefit in writing down what she's eaten, I hope that Jessica goes back to the "consumption diary." I think it requires observing over several weeks, even months, before one can truly decide if it's worthwhile or not. I'd also like to suggest maybe looking for ways for Jessica to "pat herself on the back" via her blogging. Rather than mentally punish herself for not going to the rec center, she could focus on what good she's done for her body, even if it's something as simple as taking a 10 minute nap to rejuvinate or to paint her toenails, just because. Don't stop now, Jess, your audience is counting on you!

Responding to Blood

If you are going to keep a weblog, it must be for the joy of writing alone. You will never have enough readers, an if that matters, you will always be disappointed.
Weblog audiences grow very slowly, but the readers you attract come deliberately. Do what you can to deserve their attention, and accept that your audience may always be very small. Through your efforts you can hope to gain a few readers and the respect of your peers. Do your best because you love it, appreciate the readers who visit, and don’t allow your statistics to ruin your fun. Rebecca Blood

When I started my blog at the beginning of the semester, I was extremely concerned with the idea of audience. I wanted it to be clearly defined so I could establish a persona and go with it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the fact that this is academia distorts the entire process for me.

Initially, once I gave up the idea of audience, my entries became “better” and I took more ownership over my blog. I felt much more freedom, yet at the same time, much more focused in my writing.

I agree with Blood’s statement of keeping a weblog “…for the joy of writing alone.” It was when I reconciled that in myself that I actually gained an audience outside of the obligatory hits from classmates. Of course it was just friends, family, and colleagues, but nonetheless a faithful audience who actually enjoyed keeping up with my thoughts via the blog.

When the semester shifted to the project blog, my time and energy for the personal blog greatly deteriorated, causing the entries to be weekly, at most. I did my best to take my audience along with me to the project, but they have told me it is “…boring as hell….” I’m disappointed that this meager audience has now left me. I now fail to do as Blood says by blogging “…because you love it….” The project blog is 90% for the sake of getting my grade in this class. In trying to come to grips with the fact that my only audience is my professor, I try to keep reminding myself that it’s beneficial for me as an instructor to have the time set aside to reflect and write about the progress of my class—especially in such a challenging time of the semester. That’s my “bright side” of things.

How, exactly, do you develop an audience for blogging? We could look at other forms of writing to see what process they go through to target an audience, but I think it’s next to impossible to compare a form as unique as blogging to anything else.

John Scalzi compares the aspect of blogging audience growth to other media forms’ audience growth in his column, Whatever, on April 8, 2002, saying,

Since the raw numbers regarding 'blog visits are somewhat shaky, the numbers regarding their percentage growth are likely to be equally so, but I'd be interested to see if the top 10 'blogs, whatever they may be, averaged the same sort of percentage growth last week as the top 10 conventional media sites. If they didn't, then the odds of Nisenholtz winning his Wired bet just got better. Not only that, but Vincent's argument of 'blogging being an alternative to a liberal media (many 'bloggers are conservative) is shown to be somewhat specious, since it shows that when people want news online, what they do is go to the usual suspects first.

Incidentally, it's also worth noting that many of the most popular 'blogs are written by established journalists and writers -- i.e., people who have made their writing bones before coming to the 'blog lifestyle. … Whether the 'bloggers choose to recognize it or not, they still look to and crave recognition from the very media they profess to irritate or, with more hubris, plan to usurp.

So does this mean our audience is more dependent on our reputation outside of our blogging persona? Does what I write have as much to do with who I am? If I intend to have an audience outside of those I already know, I suspect not. However, the thought of establishing an audience sounds daunting and to be honest, like something I have no interest in doing. I’m nothing but a first year graduate assistant. I’m barely able to sort through my own thoughts enough to put them in writing, much less expect an “audience” to form and wade through the mess that is my thinking.

This idea of comparing blogging audience to other media audience still intrigues me though. I searched further and found the article, Blogging: The New Exhibitionism, which says,

Blogging trades the hidden, questionable biases of the mass media for the obvious, proud biases of a human being; blogs are perhaps not more objective than other information sources, but are certainly more honest and up-front about the particular spin on the news they present. The exhibitionistic nature of many of those drawn to blogging means that blog content often provides a much richer, deeper portrait of its author than the same content would if presented in a newspaper article, for example. For all of these reasons blogs represent the quintessential medium for our modern attention-deficient, instant-gratification, self-absorbed, and voyeuristic culture.

What blogs don't typically have is a large, readymade audience -- the "mass" in "mass media" -- which is a given for mainstream media outlets such as CNN or the New York Times. In the blogging world (or "blogosphere", as it is coming to be known), you have to find your own audience. Blog culture is profoundly democratic, in that a blog's popularity is solely dependent on the quality of its content, rather than the factors which distort the mass media sphere, such as the quantity of a network's ad revenue or the partnerships it has with other corporations. The central currency of the blogosphere is certainly the hyperlink; each additional incoming link to one's work represents more potential readers and fans.

Give all of this information, I think I’m “off the hook” and relieve myself of any responsibility to establish an audience for this poor baby blog of mine.