Jun. 21st, 2010

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Happy first day of vacation to me! I'm counting today as the first day because I would have slept in and stayed in pjs drinking coffee over the weekend anyway. It wouldn't have been all that special. But today is different because it's Monday, and it's noon o'clock, and I have not even considered getting dressed yet.

I need to pack my things in anticipation of moving. I need boxes and an organizational strategy. I need to donate a bunch of my stuff to good will. I need to prioritize. I need to decide what is worth keeping. I need to figure out what will fit from the 1100 sq. ft. duplex into a 13 X 15 ft bedroom. But maybe I don't have to figure that out today. Maybe I need to wait for the sun to come out and then sit in it with a book that I don't have to analyze. Maybe I need to switch from coffee to wine and think about a nap later.

In all of the busy-ness of last week, I forgot to mention that in the spring of next year, I will become Mr. Kotter. I'm going to pick up two night school classes in the "Academy" which is lame educode for "The Portables for Kids with Babies and/or Drug Habits." I'll teach a language arts class-- I'm told that I can teach whatever the hell I want, however I want, which means that we'll be reading a lot of short stories written by authors from the Middle East in the 1950s that I always wanted to read but didn't. Everyone gets a P for pass or a NP for no-pass, and Ps are earned by my judgment of whether or not the children understand what I want them to do.

Additionally, I'm going to teach an art class in that same semester. The class will be from 4:00-6:00 on Wednesday nights. So, I've taken a couple of art classes, but I've never thought about teaching one. I'm not sure how to go about it. How do I grade them? How do I assign projects? Should I try to focus on learning major works and emulating a particular style? Is my goal to get them to like it or to be good at it or some combination of the two? I don't know. I used to be arty, back in the day. I still have a ton of old sketchbooks and the entire set of prismacolor markers and pencils, which I cart around with me wherever I move, thinking that someday I'll pick that back up. I doodle from time to time, but I haven't taken on an idea and completed it in, oh, about fourteen years.

Even though I'm feeling my way in the dark regarding my approach to this, I'm also pretty stoked about it. But I won't have to execute any plans until February. But I can't help but think about how often I'm a barrier to myself-- I make plans because I feel like I should do something. Then I don't follow through, and then miraculously, the circumstances of my life make my plans happen around me. In this case, I wanted to take an art class or be somehow in an environment that would force me to use that part of my brain again, but then I went about not taking an art class. Now I have to teach one. It's like with the writing thing. Back in the day, before I even started this silly blog, I'd write in my paper journal and think about taking a class. I didn't, of course, and then before I knew it, the Creative Writing class fell in my lap, and I got to design curriculum, which forced me to write, which made me get a portfolio together to go to grad school.

And so, my life is about to change again, and this time the changes are more than welcome. Even though I know I'm headed for chaos, I'm about to have people around again with roommates and a homeless dude and a couple of kids and three cats and a wolf. And I'm about to live by the river in Whitaker where I'll try to figure out where I hang out when I'm getting away from the chaos of living in a house full of people.

la la la.


Jun. 21st, 2010 10:01 pm
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I'm dog sitting for Barbara. This is Lilly.


She's a rescue dog, and you can't tell from the picture that she's missing half of one of her ears. She's also missing half of her tongue and she has been de-barked. If she were my dog, I would name her Friday because she is brown and probably happy to be saved from savagery.

I'm happy to have her here, but she brings to light how much smarter my dog was than other dogs, like Lilly. I never had to teach my dog how to get in and out through the dog door; I had to tie the gate shut even though it opened in. My dog was more of a crusty old guy roommate who drank too much and said the F word in front of company. Lilly's more like a fetal alcohol syndrome dog. Lilly smells bad and is clingy and a heavy breather. Still, I can't believe how cruel people can be to animals, even if they are really dumb. She strikes me as a dog who has been utterly broken, or maybe my dog was just cooler. I don't know.

Jeff likes her, though.


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