Potential Dognapper

Friday FD read at Detroit Mercy. He, of course, was awesome! And I, of course, looked cute in my cupcake hoodie.

Friday night we hung out with our friends John, Sarah, Ethan, and John's sister Emily. Sarah made an amazing pot roast (one of my all-time favorite meals) and plum cobbler (with homemade whipped cream--HEAVEN!!!). We talked late in the night by their outdoor fire pit. Fantastic times!

But in spite of the awesome poetry, goregous campus, great company and fabulous food, one little dog stole the show: Benny!

I ADORE Benny. I want to put him in my pocket and carry him around with me wherever I go. I want to put a basket on my bike just so he can ride to campus with me and teach with me and watch tv with me. I want to share an ice cream cone with him and hunt squirrels with him. I LOVE BENNY!

Seriously, I want to dognap him.

This morning Benny and I had a photo shoot so I could always have proof our undying love for each other. He modeled like no other dog. Ever. He owned the camera. Move over Tinkerbell! Here comes Benny! Booyah!

I think John, Sarah, Ethan, and FD thought I was completely crazy, but that's what puppy love did to me--made me completely crazy...

The Tweet of Twitter

My Twitter addiction is increasing every day.

I keep thinking of the book Feed by M.T. Anderson, where people have the internet hooked up in their brains.

Frequently, I imagine I have the internet hooked up in my brain.

I imagine quite awesome, very frequent Twitter updates.

Of course, I have the option of text messaging my Twitter updates from my cell phone, which is like having the internet hooked up in your brain.

But it's not really an option for me; my inability to text quickly and efficiently is beyond any help. Even if it means feeding my Twitter obsession.

~

A little over a month ago I found one of my childhood best friends from Florida on MySpace.

I was so excited I messaged her brother on MySpace and asked him to call her and tell her to check her MySpace page. (She's not internet-addicted like me.)

Immediately upon getting an email from her, I just wanted to drive to M-town to physically see her, hug her repeatedly, and catch up over bottles of wine and an all-night chat. Of course, the day after hearing from her was my first day back teaching. And, besides, she's getting her PhD; she's in Med School. She doesn't have time, in general, for anything.

What's mind blowing about the two of us is that we haven't been far away from each--at all. When I was in WV, she was in PA. Now she's in WV, at the same university where I went to grad school. It's one of those "for-real-this-is-so-crazy-I-don't-know-how-to-verbalize-it" things. I don't know about you, but this whole "the world is really small" thing freaks me out to the point I become speechless.

~

While reading Kate Greenstreet's case sensitive, I noted her note on the use of [ ]: "Penberthy describes 'the pervasive empty bracket sign [ ]' used by Zukofsky and Niedecker in their correspondence as 'a signal of deep caring for which words dare not and need not be found'" (16).

Of course, after reading this, I started obsessing over the other punctuation marks that would symbolize the "words [that] dare not and need not be found." But they all seemed to have other more important jobs: the ellipsis with its trailing off..., the parentheses with its asides (not to mention all its MLA work), the dash with its speed and/or hesitation before moving onto the next thing--

And, of course, I obsessed about those punctuation marks almost the entire night--to the point I'm not sure I slept.

And I kept thinking, Get up and record these thoughts on Twitter.

Then, If only Twitter was a program in my brain and my brain was already wired with cable internet.

OMG, Online shopping would be so much easier...

~

I wrote A, my found childhood best friend, a long email, detailing my life now and what I'm doing.

But it felt all wrong.

There were too many gaps in the past. And too much focus on now. I wanted to record all of that that led up to now--from when we last spoke to now. But that seems impossible.

How can I say all the stuff from the past that sometimes feels unspeakable b/c it's over and done with, but that's the stuff that got me here to this moment right now?

So does all of that stuff become [ ] ?

Catching up is weird.

So weird, it completely explains my addiction to Twitter.

~

It's not laziness that makes [ ] so effective.

You know some people just choose not to talk about all the [ ] or don't even experience [ ] at all.

Others want to talk about the [ ] and can't b/c there's no language for it.

And then there's the [ ] for those who don't need to say anything b/c it's already know between the self and a other: "a signal of deep caring for which words dare not and need not be found."

I thought about writing A a letter:
Dear A,

[ ]

Love,
Manda

But that's way too post-postmodern for my ass. And it still doesn't say everything I want to.

~

Twitter: the true intention, I think, of this Web 2.0 app is to keep others updated of your going-ons.

"Saw clown drive past house yesterday. Started laughing. He looked too normal." Things like this. What you would text a friend.

But what I love about Twitter is different. I'm trying to get myself to post beyond the surface stuff (of course, I still do post surface stuff), but it's more interesting for me when I post more complex thoughts and fading memories that I want to record, not forget.

If Twitter had been up and running 15 years ago and I joined back then, I could send A my Twitter link. Maybe then [ ] would be more clear.

Because then the silent gaps between my Twitters would accurately replicate the [ ]. The [ ] for her and others, right? Because we can have [ ] with more than one person...

~

OK, I just had a "WTF am I talking about moment..."

That means it's time to stop.

I'm now thinking of the barriers of language and how [ ] could still be language and now my brain is propelling forward into sister territory and the language in non-verbal-ness.

Sadly, I don't have time for all this right now.

~

Twitter forces me to say it all in 140 characters. God bless them.

~

Endnote: If you join Twitter, be sure to friend me. I'm addicted to reading Tweet as much as I am to writing them.

Bathroom Humor

When you have to go, shouldn't it be fun?

With a Promise of More to Come

I was going to write a long rant about an outer-body experience I had while presenting/discussing Values and Writing Assignments to the BGeX faculty today, but, now, I don't feel like it. So I back-spaced until it was all gone and started over.

It's been one of those weeks. Ups and downs. And I really want/wanted to be contrary, but thought better of it for the sake of my morals, sanity, OCD, relationships, and obligations. How do you like that for talking in code?

Really can one be totally, completely honest about thoughts and feelings in a blog? Seriously, it's public space, not the personal journal with the hefty lock pad that I keep in a very, very secret place.

Like Abs, I'm essay-free this weekend. I have so much planned: Housekeeping (of course! (and, for the record, I love what a catch-all term that is)), a much-needed hair cut and color, a grocery trip to the Anderson's, letter writing, essay writing, a nap or two, reading, and, maybe, a much more satisfying (for you and me) blog post.

Another Totally Rad Blog with Real Valuable Purpose

21st Century Citizen.

It's helping me a more conscious human.

I dig that.

Totally, Totally Biased! (But Really It Is An Awesome Book!)

There's only one thing I can say about Neck of the World:

If I wasn't married to this man, I would find him and marry him.

His poems are imaginative, brilliant, thoughtful, and innovative.

And he's even more so.

Ten out of five very proud Hello Kittys.

It's A Small World After All (The Question Is: Will You Be Singing that Song to Yourself The Rest of the Day?)

Here are three blogs totally worth a damn:

The Bee's Knees : Finally, Stokes has rejoined the blogging community. Hilarity may now resume ensuing.

The Real Irony : Through Stokes I found her friend Christy who has a funny bone too. All this laughing is going to a.) keep my weight off, b.) help me deal with my daily life frustrations, and c.) keep me closer to girls I adore.

Lemon Cadet : Talk about RAD homemade goods! I randomly found Lemon Cadet on Etsy and discovered she's a very dear friend of mine from grad school. The world is small.


And I haven't even told the story about finding my childhood best friend on MySpace yet...

Hum Along

Thinking about the soundtrack of my life made me put together this playlist.

I narrowed it down to 50 from 150, and I still feel like a lot is missing.

Wanna Cover-Up a Trainwreck?

After watching Britney's performance of the VMAs, I might have to buy another one of these...

Thankfully my yoga space is now a pure sanctuary--free of Britney's inability to lip-sync, free from the screen that is my addiction.

And I have totally awesome Melissa to thank. She's an extremely talented seamstress; something I definitely am not.

And I have a new addiction: Etsy.

Kick Me Silly

To say I LOVE Paul Feig's Kick Me is an understatement.

I LOVE this book so much it's one of the main reasons I was procrastinating on grading. Or I should say it kept me from grading.

In other words, I had to finish it before I could do my job.

That's pretty darn good, huh?

Remember all the stupid shit that happened to you in school? I once walked around with toilet paper on my shoe for three periods before anyone told me to look at my shoe. And don't even get me started on the time I puked up Snapple Green Tea because I had three BEFORE homeroom. Or the time I peed in a McDonald's cup. Or the many times I started my period during some pointless class and prayed I wouldn't bleed through because teachers back then never let anyone go to the bathroom.

That's this book. Only Paul Feig's writing style is WAY funnier than mine.

God bless him.

And he is the creator of the best show EVER: Freaks and Geeks.

Seriously, readers, you MUST read this book. Read it when you need a pick-me-up. Read it when you need to feel like someone finally understands your dorkiness. Read it when you want to feel like a kid again. Read it just for some old-fashioned giggles.

READ IT FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!!! Especially, you, Stokes! You would hug this book like it was your preppy, popped collar dog.

Five out of five proud-to-still-be-an-embarrassed-geek Hello Kittys.

Approaching A Day of Rest

When I walk I feel the wave of motion.

Literally, I walk like I'm on a boat. I rock. I stumble a bit.

I'm sure my students in all my sections thought I was drunk during every class this week.

It reminded me of my "bad" graduate school days. That was no fun.

~

I've been thinking about the songs that make up the soundtrack of my life.

There's so many. Too many.

Some I can listen to now after a-many-years break.

Others I still can't stomach. They remind me of so much I'd rather forget.

Still others I listen to religiously. Even if they give away my age. I don't care.

~

This week I've been plugging along, but with a little less heart than usual.

Because some of my heart I sent to someone else.

Because early this week I found out that one of my former students who I'm still really close to tried to commit suicide.

Every time I think about her there's a lump in my throat. My vision puddles. My mind blanks out, and the only words that come to me are "Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

~

I literally almost passed out and fell over while walking the aisle in one of my Mac Computer Lab classes. I pressed my palm flat against one of the aisle desks and perched my hip steady against its sturdy weight.

I don't think my students noticed because they're used to me passionately adding my two cents to a discussion then suddenly taking a moment to come up for air while they laugh off my unusual expressions.

But it was the first time this week I felt like this Vertigo that has been plaguing me since last Sunday was really something I should visit the doctor about.

Too bad I think my doctor is a pill pusher and out for the dollar, not her patients.

I need to try something new.

~

It was Tim Gunn who really made me think about the soundtrack of my life.

Some too-rich-for-having-no-degree life coach on Tim's new show told the helpless, fashion-less victim that she needed to walk with confidence, "And one way to do is to walk like you're listening to the songs that make up your life's soundtrack."

I have a confident walk, but I don't know if I would credit that to my life soundtrack.

Seriously, most of my songs are way too acoustic, cryptic, and emotionally desperate for a confident walk. They remind me of who I used to be when I wanted to be the me I am today. Or they humble and quiet me. They help me process those things I don't really know how to verbalize or write into words. They open me up emotionally and give me an outlet for those emotions.

When I think of confident-walking songs, I think of my man JT and Mariah. Sure, those two have had their important moments in my life, and maybe JT would make the soundtrack, but really neither would represent the Top 10.

I don't know...I guess those complex songs that are in the Top 10 do give me my confident walk, in some way I really don't know how to explain.

~

I went to my doctor last year with these exact same symptoms.

She gave me motion sickness pills that she said I should take three times a day, and she reminded me to take my Claratin D.

Before I went to that visit that's the exact same prescription I gave myself--only over-the-counter Dramamine.

Sign me up for med school!

I've come to find out that my Pops has the same problems as me. That he has a Vertigo Specialist he sees.

With my faux med school degree I can surmise that a.) This Vertigo is hereditary, and b.) I need a Vertigo Specialist.

I'm fucking brilliant, aren't I?

~

The student I've been worrying about has helped me, in her own special way, play an April Fool's Day prank on my Pops.

We share the same favorite book: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

During conferences, she was one of those students I could see my younger self in. It was as if I was talking to myself, observing my own lively passion, reckless abandon, exceptional emotional understanding, hyper-aware self-knowledge and awesome wittiness.

I loved every second of our conferences. And at the same time they frightened me beyond belief.

Imagine if I had a kid. Or a sibling who could be my kid. It was be like that. Like how my Grandma McGuire was always so worried I would turn out "crazy" because I had her "crazy genes."

I worried about her, but in that way that we worry about college kids. She always struck me as one of the survivors. Wise beyond her years.

I suppose she is. Maybe that's why she tried to take her life.

I have no idea why. I can only assume. I just know that she's been on my mind this week. During faculty meetings, while teaching, at the same time I'm frustrated at myself for not being able to do a hand stand during morning yoga.

"I will try to understand everything has its plan."

~

I'm thinking I might have to go to this Vertigo Specialist if I don't stop swaying.

I'm thinking "Either Way" by Wilco definitely makes the Top 10.

I'm thinking about the lessons that made me stronger, that made me love my life, even when I didn't know what to do and felt hopelessly lost.

And I'm not thinking, "If only..."

Putting On My Best

Face.

Why In World Would One Have Bad Image

after watching this video?

I'm going to start watching this video every morning!

And I'm going to figure out how I can use it as a teaching tool...

Have You Ever Felt Like

This?