Bad Kitty

Don't let this picture fool you, my friends. Cats and ducks? Not friends. Let me tell you how I came to this horrible realization.

For you loyal blog fans, you may remember my acquaintanceship with some ducks. There were three of them and they would come to my window for food. I would open the window and give them bits of pita, tortilla or bread based on its availability in my kitchen. Then one day, one of them tried to fly in my window, scaring me. Then, there were only two ducks. I was certain my bread had choked and killed the third. It's hard to rip up it small and quick when you are trying to avoid having them jump in your window impatiently.

Well, for a long time, the ducks avoided me. For good reason. I hadn't seen them in ages, until today. I was sitting at my computer, mourning the fact that I had no bread to offer these cuties. They were quacking and I was quacking (c'mon you know you do it) and everything was fine. Then. Remember the cat that likes to entertain me by ripping apart mice in front of my window? Well, she flies out of nowhere and pounces on the ducks. The ducks agitatedly fly off, and I swear they were cursing me as they went.

I would also like to note that these were not small ducklings. I am pretty sure they were each the size of the cat. What kind of bold kitty does such a thing? New Zealand cats, that's who. She smiled up at me when they had flown off, proud of the fact that I was not paying them any attention anymore. Freakin' cat.

Depressing Books

Some people might say that I have a tendency to enjoy books that have a tinge of "darkness" to them. Yeah, okay, typically I like depressing books. Not tearjerkers, exactly. More of the I-wanna-pull-the-covers-over-my-head-forever genre of sad. I like them because they provide a (at least to me) more realistic view of the world and it's intriguing to discuss the matters of fiction within that realm. But I have started to read The Memory of Running. Amazon.com told me I would like it. Thankfully, I didn't buy it, just borrowed it. I am only about a hundred pages in, so I won't judge it just yet, but good Lord. It's been making me sad just reading it.

Is it the end of an era? Am I done being content with the artistic beauty that is the depressing side of life? I mean, I am torn here. On the one hand, I'd like to enjoy some new perspectives into life, but on the other... I mean, there's something beautiful about being able to describe the ugly so well.

Sigh. Maybe I should just give it a chance. Maybe this book will end well and take me over to the positive side of literature. Shudder.

SIDENOTE: Okay, as I was linking the title to the review of the book, I realized they are commending this author on his impeccable sense of humor. I might just not get it. Shoot. See previous entry about patterns.

PS: It's Kimmie's birthday (again, the date up there will lie because it's the day after here)! I don't think Kimmie reads this, but I will not deny her the shout out! Happy Birthday!

Patterns

Actual conversation between me and my boss (to the best of my memory):

Me: So do we get paid today?
Jo: (Sigh.) No, it's Tuesday. We get paid tomorrow.
Me: Do we always get paid on Wednesdays?
Jo: Um, yes.
Me: Since when?
Jo: Since always. You never noticed that you always get paid on a Wednesday?
Me: Hmmm.

I am not good at picking up patterns. In all fairness, I once asked when we got paid, and I was told it wouldn't fall neatly on the same day. Clearly, I was lied to, but I mean, I should have picked that out. But it reminds me that I never was good at picking up patterns. I am horrible at video games for much the same reason. The only game I've ever been good at is Mario Bros. and that's because I used to watch my brother and his friends play for hours on end. Then, wouldn't you know? I knew where the secret blocks were and how to beat that one level... all just coincidentally.

And remember all those rainy day games, like "Why do I like grass but not lawns? Why do I like balloons but not helium?" Or the games where you have to do some optical illusion with your hands and fast talking? Yeah, I suck at those too. I am just not aware enough or something. I always miss the forest for the trees, or just think that the trees are all just a distracting trick!

This is yet another example of why I ask a lot of questions. Chances are, I didn't get the obvious.

To Sleep Perchance to Dream

I am not particularly good at sleep. I either sleep too much or sleep not enough. I don't sleep all the way through the night, and never have. When I first got to New Zealand, I was finally sleeping well, but lately, my sleeping has been acting up again. Last night, however, I even surprised myself.

Besides having some creepy dreams (and I mean creepier than normal), I woke up with my knee hurting. No bother, I frequently wake up with latent stiffness or bruising from soccer. I sat down at my computer to chat with a friend and when I got up to go work out, I almost fell over. Hm. This was not normal. While trying to put on shorts to work out in, my knee was really burning. I had twisted my knee in my sleep!

After my shower, the bruise started to show up on the outside of my knee. I am dumbfounded. I mean, don't get me wrong; I'll be back to working out tomorrow. I am not limping or anything, but it sure does sting when I walk. Who does that? How can I respond, "Um... I was asleep" when people ask how I hurt myself? I best be careful with my sleeping tendencies; next, I'll wake up with a broken arm or something.

I'm a Genius!

I am incredibly proud of my new invention! I love Starbucks. Filthy habit, I know, but I like it. It's kind of a long walk from home and work is about a block away. No Starbucks for me. Plus, I'm pretty broke at the moment saving up for Fiji, so it's just as well. But I still crave. At work, we have free coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. I know I am not the first to think of it or try it, but I decided to make my own Starbucks style coffee.

I took some instant coffee (which realistically is only good on one specific occasion - deer hunting. It is crap coffee that you would give your right arm for when you wake up at 4 am to go plod out in the snow and sit for several hours. Blissful. But then, and only then.) and combined it with hot chocolate mix. Now, my first cup (made yesterday) was far too coffee-strong. I was shaking with caffeine within minutes. Too much coffee. Second cup was too hot chocolate-strong. Today was just right. It doesn't taste like Starbucks, mostly because there is no caramel swirl or copious amounts of flavor shots. But, it is fantastic.

I am so unbelievably proud of myself which again reminds me how lucky I am to be appeased by small pleasures. Throw some instant coffee and hot chocolate into a cup, add hot water and I'm on cloud nine. Also, as a slight sidenote, I realised my friend Kristin was right when she told me I drink my coffee too fast. "How did you not burn yourself?!" Today, when I set my cup down, it was steaming like crazy... but it was already empty. :) I like coffee.

To Hate or Not to Hate

There has been quite the shopping drama happening across the world if you didn't know about it. Oh yes, it affects the States and even New Zealand. Okay, well it actually only directly affects one person in the States and one person in New Zealand, those being my brother and me. But you know you're dying to know now! :)

Simply put, my brother and I share a gap.com account so I can help him shop from afar. He recently moved. Here is the dilemma: 1) he ordered pants but they got shipped to his old address in spite of his diligence to change the shipping address. 2) they would not be forwarded because the package would have my name instead of his. 3) gap.com and UPS are in a wicked plot to keep the coolest pants ever from my brother. Both he and I have called both companies involved and it occurred to me that being on hold for a company is like Chinese water torture. It slowly drives you insane. I was honestly and literally tempted to bash the phone into my head to stop the repeating "would you like to get free shipping?" and the "fastest shipping anywhere in the continental United States!!" slogans. Why do you have a twenty second long repeating message when the average wait time is over ten minutes?

After many more futile and disturbing attempts to track down the pants (which will someday be funny, but not now... it's still too soon), we have found that a mysterious "Steve" has signed for the pants. While my brother has to hire a private eye to locate said Steve (I kid, I kid), I decided I hated gap.com, UPS and shopping online. A drastic switch for me. However, gap.com (who were very helpful and apologetic on the phone and all, but after that wait time...) emailed me after I politely complained about the situation. They told me that they would entirely refund the purchase! How nice is that? If they would have had the pants still in stock, they would have sent a replacement pair. Now, my moral brother will not accept the refunded money until he knows the pants are long gone (seriously, how are we related?!), but it has restored my faith in gap.com.

Moral of the story? Huzzah, gap.com, huzzah. Boo, UPS, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

Non-Stupid Optimism

While reading for my qualitative research class, I discovered the phrase "non-stupid optimism" originally coined by Kushner (yes, you nerds who want to know, I can provide a better reference). The context of this concept would be a discussion of discourse analysis, that is, analysing the language we use for hidden meanings or its implementation of re-enforcing power relations. It gets a bit more complex than that, but let's be honest... you probably don't care. :) The phrase non-stupid optimism got me to do a little discourse analysis myself, however. If you have to indicate non-stupid, one would assume normal optimism is stupid. Is that true?

I must confess I am not the most optimistic person in the world, but I don't think of those who are as being naive, silly, or dumb. It is admirable to look about the world and see all the horrors that can exist and still see the positive side of life. Not only that, but these people can have utter and complete faith that the positive side will win out. Is that dumb? Is that stupid? I hope not.

So to all you die-hard optimists out there, good job! The best part is, though, that they don't need me or anyone else to cheer them on. They'd have faith and hope anyway. Sweet kids, those optimists.

Yes, I Think I Will

So the mysterious Piano Man finally spoke. If you aren't up on the story, they found this man on April 7th soaking wet, but in a suit. While under inspection, he didn't speak but drew a picture of a piano which, when they brought it to him, he played quite well. So he just decided to start talking. When asked if he was going to speak today, he replied, "Yes, I think I will." Now he can go home.

I am amazed. I have a huge fascination with people who, unlike me, do not feel the need to divulge every aspect of their lives. I love people who can have something happen (like say read an article about the Piano Man) and not tell everyone they see about it. Naturally, at first I thought he was experiencing some trauma that was causing the silence. But to just not talk for a few months because... well, we still don't know! Oh, the delicious ambiguity!

If I had the willpower, I would love to just hush up for several months. I bet you'd get some Zen like understanding of the world or something. Unfortunately, this is not a practical pursuit in life and there's no way I could ever do it anyhow. I would love to be that mysterious for the briefest of times in my life though.

Veggie Baby

Now, I like vegetables as much as the next guy. Yeah, I'm even a poser vegetarian (I eat fish). But I don't think of this as a lifelong choice for myself and I think eating meat is just fine and healthy. When people ask me how long I will be a vegetarian, I always respond that I know it won't be forever because I don't think it's healthy to be pregnant and vegetarian. Now, you can be perfectly healthy I suppose, but why disadvantage myself? I mean, I want the best possible womb environment for my (future and hypothetical) child.

In an extension of the same concept, I saw on www.bbc.co.uk that a woman was trying to figure out how to raise her baby vegetarian. She was asking around for input. Some people were saying that it isn't fair to raise your kid with some weird morals. While I don't necessarily agree with that (as my kid is going to be raised Christian and I don't think this debilitates the child from free thought or independent choice later in life), I do think it seems a bit extremist to make your kid vegetarian. Growing up is hard to do already, why make your kid eat forty portions of beans a day to make up for the lack protein? Maybe I am just not hardcore enough to force vegetarianism on my future children. Still, reading about how little Johnny takes tofu fingers to school everyday... yeah, that kid for sure gets beat up at recess. Plus, it just sounds like those full on vegetarians who think no one should eat meat finally got someone small and helpless enough to force into it.

But hey, maybe I'm just a cynic. :) Nah... that can't possibly be it.

End of an Era

Well, soccer is over. It's a sad day really. We didn't lose the game (we drew 1-1) but because we didn't win, we are last in the league. I think that's actually okay considering we came awfully close to not being last. Next year we will kick lots of butt. I am a little glad for a hiatus from soccer because I am starting to get pretty banged up. I did get slightly injured (but am now fine) in the game, and I have bruises all over me. My leg is still gross from last game, and now my arm has a nice purple addition.

Don't get me wrong: I adore soccer and I even adore running into people. A few months off from doing so, however, will be greatly appreciated.

Plus, we went out for dinner tonight and that was really nice. A whole big group of people, a few beers, a lot of food (and I mean a lot!). It's still funny to me that we don't play this outdoor sport in the summer, but I will take the summer to do other things. :) I wanna learn to surf next.

Fiji!!

I just wanted to put up some pictures of where I'll be spending good ol' homecoming weekend. At first I was feeling blue because I wouldn't be with my friends in Valpo. Then I remembered that Valpo doesn't look like this:


I will miss my friends, but I think I will have to enjoy doing this too. Yes, I am unabashedly bragging about my trip. But c'mon... you would too. ;)

Funniest Thing Ever

Okay, here is your homework for today: Watch this commercial! It is absolutely hilarious. It stars this little guy picture on the right here. I have to admit that New Zealand marketing skills are not exactly top shelf, but I really enjoy this. You can also look at some of the other commercials he does as well. I just think the sound of a radio puking up yodelling (which is played backwards, witty devils) is about the height of comedic genius.

Speaking of comedic genius and marketing, I watched an American comedian on TV last night who mocked the US for having such great marketing skills... except that the only thing we can't sell is ourselves. No one likes us. We can get people to buy fat-reducing thigh cream, but we can't make people like us. I thought that was funny.

Well, I thought I was finally getting used to New Zealand humour because it just doesn't seem that different, but then I realised that all the stuff I was watching either wasn't Kiwi or wasn't meant to be funny (although there is some debate over whether Shortland Street can truly be called a drama). I watched the first few minutes of a Dunedin-based comedy about student life. During the opening credits, my street and house were on the screen! I was dumbfounded. This sort of thing doesn't happen. But the show was wretched.

I guess I'll deal with laughing at the little crazy mobile fellow as he pukes up music. It's nice to be that easily entertained.

Ew... or Cool.

Okay, I don't know which part is scarier: that I was reading foxnews.com or that I found out urine is power. This article talks about how scientists in Singapore have made a battery that is powered by urine. Now, I mean, this is a great invention. Think about it... I am sure that I can make plenty of urine for this cause. You know you can too.

But gross! I have a hard enough time dealing with that pee in a cup situation for the doctor. And that's for my health. How are they going to collect this urine? I am glad we finally (like I throw in a "we" to include me with super geniuses from Singapore?) found a way to utilize a resource that we aren't going to run out of. I am glad that it doesn't hurt the environment. But do we all have to pee in our urine recycling bins? Will we have one toilet for #1 that will go to our battery centers and one toilet for #2 which will go somewhere else? (I am sure that if we can find a use for urine, we can find a use for poo.) I sure wouldn't want to work at the urine factory, that's for sure.

I am happy this little invention has come about, but I still have a huge part of me squirming like a little girl and squealing, "Ew!!" And that's why I'll never be a scientist.

I'd Like to File a Complaint

I watched a show last night that used hidden cameras to comment on general aspects of life. Last night's focus was on customer service in New Zealand. I have not noticed a huge difference from here than in the States although it can be a wee bit more hit or miss. They don't work on tips here though, so I would just have assumed that it would be worse. If I wasn't getting tips, I'd never do any service job. Imagine being a waitress for minimum wage. I shudder to think.

The program ended with an analysis of why the state of New Zealand's customer service was so awful: Kiwis don't like to complain. They had a checklist of how to complain about poor service and urged Kiwis to do it more frequently so service would improve. They had to beg people to complain!!

I am again reminded about the general mindset differences that exist between the States and here. We (a mixed group of Kiwis and Americans) discussed the relationship that exists between settlers and native peoples. Here, they have a dual culture, at least on paper, with the Maori people. We, by comparison, killed off a good portion of the Native Americans. Now, we could debate for a long time about the repercussions of each method, but that isn't my point. The mentality is still there: USA = conquer, NZ = compromise. It's just funny. They avoid conflict to the extent that they are urged to complain about customer service. What a different world I live in.

A Win!!

Our soccer team rules. We finally won a game. If we draw or win our next (and last) game, we can chant "We're not last! We're not last!" The game was a rough one as we had our quiz night the previous evening. Because this is not some nerdy trivia game because it involves food and booze, we may or may not have had a jolly good time that was reeking havoc on my soccer game. However, we stood firm and won thanks to our one goal by Kelley! And yes, she was also super hung over and even headed the ball before this goal.

I was proud because I thought I was stinking up the game but people commended me on my running around the field (which, yes, was much harder than it sounds). I did, however, have my running into people skill slight off which meant that I kept running into this tall girl's leg while she kicked. I now have huge bruises on my leg and bruised my other knee. Meaning I now should not wear skirts for a few weeks. I look like an abused person. "Somebody threw me down a flight of stairs!"

But seriously, I am proud of us. For a team comprised mostly of novices, we just might finish over another team that as least a year of experience on us. Go Team Bumblebees! (Okay, we call ourselves Yellow, but I like Team Bumblebees!)

Ode to Mac N Cheese

Oh Kraft Mac n Cheese... you are the same as I remember: eerily orange and delicious. Your noodles are an oddly bleached white color and still I adore you. You have zero nutritional value and that's the way I like it.

My stomach rejoiced as I ate your precious goodness, even as people walking past curiously eyed my orange noodles. What is it about you that is so good? Why do you make me feel like a giddy school girl inside?

Perhaps it is best not to overanalyze this true, undying love. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese... I love you. (And my parents for sending it to me!)

Health Nut

This is the food pyramid that the University of Michigan figured out. There are two neat things about it, in my opinion. I already kind of eat this way and it's meant to give you really good health, not make you skinny. By this, I mean that it's meant to make your body resist diseases and things. If you go to this link , you'll see more about it and more about each food category. It's like making your body a little box of immunity.

Maybe it will cure headaches. You know what else cures headaches? Seeing Wedding Crashers. That is a phenomenal movie. :)

Teeny Tiny Jackhammers

Headaches. I have been having a gradually increasing headache since the beginning of this week. For a while, I had just been getting random migraines and I remember praying, "Good Lord, let me just have headaches again!" Fool. This dull, grinding pain is increased by everything that I do... eating, not eating, sleeping, being awake, taking out my contacts, putting them back in, playing soccer (okay, that was a bad idea), reading, writing, everything! I was starting to get concerned for the wellbeing of my head when I heard the fabulous news that I most likely don't have a tumor. However, I am most likely coming down with this killer flu that's going around. I have heard this from two, non-connected sources. I hate being sick, I hate headaches and I just don't have time for illness.

Plain and simple, this headache/flu is going to have to reschedule. I must now stop typing because the sound is like a wee jackhammer in my temples. I hope you understand. :)

Sharing

While catching up on the news on cnn.com (I should definitely be getting royalties), I spied one of those vote/opinion poll boxes. Ever willing and ready to contribute to mindless voter polls, I looked to the question: "Should it be illegal to access a neighbor's Wi-Fi connection without permission?" I answered with a resounding no, but found that I was grossly outnumbered (76% to 24%). I realise that it might be considering stealing, but actually, it's not. If I were to use someone's wireless, they aren't losing anything; I've taken nothing from them. If I am stealing at all, it's from the internet provider and I have absolutely no problem with that.

I know that I was able to take advantage of a neighbor's wireless while I was a wee poor college student one summer and I was entirely grateful. It just may have been the one aspect of that summer that allowed me to keep my sanity. Also, I would like to point out that you can stop people from "stealing" your wireless by installing a password or some such technological nonsense. I know this because my generous neighbor eventually put a password on the access. I am curious about these people who are upset with the stealing of internet access. Why not just put up a password?

When I get rich and famous (as teachers tend to) and get wireless, I will not put a password on. Maybe I'm missing some ethical point here, but what is the harm? I hope that I can help some disadvantaged person get access (a disadvantaged person who can afford the little wireless card necessary for all this stealing). All this little poll did was remind me to check and see if any of my neighbors have wireless so I can stop paying for dialup (dialup, people!!) that is slow and horrible. If I was meant to be shamed, CNN, you have failed.

No Pressure

Honestly, this post is really going to be an angry rant, but I'm going to disguise it as witty and humorous. In class yesterday, we basically complained about the current state of being a teacher. When you get a post graduate class of educators, this tends to happen. Yes, we had an academic base for the discussion, but it was really dressed up complaints.

We were discussing how back in the day, teacher retention was a concern because while a majority of teachers were women, they didn't stay in the profession long because they were having babies. Then my male professor went on to say to a room full of females, "I mean, realistically, you have undue pressure on you because the average age of women having their first child has been going up, especially when the level of education of the woman goes up. But, you only have so many fertile years before giving birth becomes a hazard to both you and the child..." He went on, but the vast majority of the younger women in the class were just looking at him horrified.

I think that I fool myself into thinking I am still college age because I am still taking classes. But the general feel of the class was that 28 was pushing it if you hadn't had kids yet. Well... if I am going to be here til I am 24, teaching in London till I am 27 or so and then coming to the States to settle down, I have one year to get hitched and knocked up. No pressure.

As if people (I am convinced there are just as many men as women who are hankering to settle down and just as many women as men trying to avoid it) my age didn't have their biological clocks ticking away in their ears all the time, I have to have my professor telling me to get a move on. So unless I find a Kiwi who not only wants to date me, but move to London with me, and then move to the States permanently thereafter, I am outta luck. Better call me a spinster and buy me some cats, people.

Confusing Action with Motion

I don't know which is more... distressing: reading Kerouac while in bed or while working out. Like the work of Dave Eggers, there is a distinct emphasis on movement. If I had my book with me, I would nerd out here and put some quotes, but for now, just believe me. So if I'm just lounging in bed, I feel like such a waste. I should be out in the world, experiencing things. At the very least, I should be moving. Not so, however. I have been taking On the Road with me to work out in the morning. This is more frustrating! A theme I have been toying with in Kerouac's work is that his emphasis is on traveling, but his experiences are when he isn't moving. One nerdtastic example is that the title is a recurring phrase... spoken right when he's going to leave one story and venture on into another in another place. When he's literally "on the road", we mostly don't hear about it. That gives the book a darker spin than it is intended, but reading his later work, the theme starts really becoming obvious.

So picture me pondering this, while working for all I'm worth on a crosstrainer, but not actually moving. Trippy, I know. It works much better to read back issues of Cosmo and New Woman because it's all about body image. Why not throw yourself in all the way, mind and body? It's much more distracting than Keroauc. Moral of the story? Choose reading material for the gym very carefully.

SIDENOTE: This is a reason I should be a writer for a show like Futurama, Simpsons, or Family Guy (or I watch far too much of the aforementioned shows). I was getting ready for work and putting my boots on. With my work out this morning, my left calf was getting a bit big again and I said, "Stupid calf." Then I pictured me looking up to see a baby cow in my flat and just trying to stammer out an apology. Haha. I crack myself up.

Miracles: A Way of Life?

I'm about to get religious on your heretic butts. :) Now, I don't like to talk about religion when no one has asked about it and even sometimes when they have. I dig God, we get along really well, but religion can be such a touchy topic. But here goes, it's on my mind and I wanna talk about it. (And whose blog is it anyway? "All for the readers", my butt.)

Today in church, the pastor was talking about the story of Jesus walking on water. There are three interpretations according to him: a) he really did walk on water, making it a miracle; b) there was really a sandbar or something, making it just plain old lies; or c) it's a figurative story about Jesus overcoming the struggles of and within the church. This pastor voted c. It got me thinking though... his whole logic on why it didn't really happen is because it would separate us from Jesus, make it harder for us to be like him. But then, I thought (and this can be about life in general) maybe we are supposed to be performing miracles. In the religious sense, the disciples did it, not just Jesus, so we should in theory be able to as well. In some cases, I do think people perform and experience miracles today. In the non-religious sense, it brings me back to my fascination with quantum mechanics in everyday life. Do we create and/or limit our abilities based on our expectations? Of course we know that we are to some degree, but what are the actual extremes of our capabilities?

If I have to choose between the options that pastor gave, I choose a. It means that God not only thinks I can do miracles, but that he wants me to pursue them. In life, I hope that I can expect things that ought to be impossible. On a deeper still note, what if we do create our existence? What if the world could be anything, and we as a group picked this? ...And continue to pick it. I just don't even know what to do with that. Here ends the sermon for today. ;)

Attack of the Killer Calves

I have newfound determination for this soccer thing. I will become great. For those of you who know me at all, I can be a wee bit stubborn (who, me?!) and I have taken all that energy to soccer. I don't know why... I'm bored, whatever. The point is that I have been working out super hard. You know on the cross trainer the trick is to be able to last a long time on it? Yeah, well I have it to a level where I am pushing those footpedals for all I'm worth and not going too fast. This, my friends, is full on training.

This, compounded with my desire to run full on into people while playing, has made my legs a bit... fragile. My bruise is now some funky reds and purples framed by an interesting combination of green and yellow. Fun times. This, so far, is all part and parcel of playing the game. I am in perfectly fine condition although I do walk a little funny in the mornings (I get stiff). But I had the shock of a lifetime today when I put on my awesome black boots. I slip on the left boot and it's kind of tight. Like tighter than when I wore them earlier in the week. I think, Great... I work out more and I'm getting fatter. Then I put on the other boot, but it fits fine. Hm. My left calf is distinctly larger than my right. And this has happened since Monday. There are several explanations: My right (dominant, kicking) foot is getting leaner because I use it more. Or, my left leg is swelling because of my bruise and/or just getting belted in the knee last week. Perhaps I have been pushing harder with my left leg than my right on the cross trainer, bulking up my left leg. The other option (and most likely one) is that my muscle knot (yes, I just made up that phrase) in my left leg is making it swell ever so slightly and I am freaking out over nothing.

Still, now that I know, I feel like it's super obvious and people will stare at the funny legged freak, thinking she must have just gotten her right leg out of a cast... look how tiny!! Geesh, and people who are starving, suffering from diseases, and in wars think they have it bad.

Expert Schmexpert

I have learned from this fine university that I was raised in an archaic academia which taught me that there are such things as reality, truth, and experts. Not so, my friends. This is a world built on overlapping interpretations in which one can easily get swallowed up trying to understand (and evidently in vain) other interpretations.

The one aspect where this bites me in the buttocks is when you have to write a paper. I don't like to think of myself as an expert on anything. Except perhaps on how to make the perfect afternoon (soup, rolls, butter, tea, good book, followed by more tea, knitting and great movie). Still, I am starting to understand why people think they can speak authoritatively on things. After reading heaps and heaps of articles on collaboration and its uses in professional development of teachers, I gotta say I think I know what I'm talking about. I am finding it less and less necessary to rely on quotes because Good Lord! It would take me ages to write down what they all think individually. I have to summarize, analyze (hmm.. could it be? write a paper!!) which takes up a lot of room and comes out of my fingertips pretty friggin' quickly. It's like someone asked me, "So, Annika... how do you feel about using collaboration as professional development?" (I know, no one in their right mind would ask me to elaborate on anything. I supply enough information unprovoked.) I would leap into it: "Well, funny you should ask! Let me tell you a thing or two!"

So this is what it's like to research and write about something you're actually interested in. If only I could suddenly develop a keen interest in qualitative research and its philosophical movements. Blast.

And another PS - Happy Birthday, Lisa! (Again, technically, it is the day after here, but in the US, Lisa is celebrating right now and we should too.) Does anyone else think of the music from the Simpsons where Bart gets the crazy guy who thinks he's Michael Jackson to sing Lisa a birthday song? I bet you do now. :)

Like Six Whole Months!

-I mean, it's like six whole months!
Half of a year!
-How many weeks is that??
More than a semester!
-25% done with our entire time here!

This is just part of the conversation Kelley and I had yesterday about how long we've been here. Yes, today marks my six month anniversary of being in Kiwi land. Six months!! Thinking back... it doesn't seem that long. But being in the States seems like it was ages ago. Such is life. What have I been doing this whole time? I don't even know. All I know is: I like it. Good choice, me!

It's funny that suddenly a year doesn't seem so long anymore. I don't know which is better. When I was three, I thought in terms of hours. Wow, it's already three pm? I'm late for my nap! Wait, I still think that... Then, when I was in high school, I thought in terms of days. Now, I think in terms of weeks. And I am shocked when a week has slipped by, unbeknownst to me. Crap, what's the date?! When I get older, will I think of life in terms of months? Good Lord, it's August?! All I know is life is starting to move so fast, I have to hang on for dear life. Good, bad, who knows? It's just life.

In another note of the passage of time: Happy Birthday, Beth! (Yes, today is the second for me which complicatedly makes it Lisa's birthday and not Beth's birthday, but right this second it's Beth's birthday in the US... my head hurts...)