Heartwarming crowds

Usually, I feel quite ill at things like graduation services, weddings, and anything that includes unnecessary pomp and circumstance.  I know I'm supposed to feel pride and warmth from being a part of some phenomenal occasion like seeing 18 years old shipped off to the real world and seeing two people blend their lives forever.  But I don't. I usually see awkward little kids dressed up like adults, pretending they're capable of impressive, life changing decisions.  (Both for weddings and graduations!)

Today I voted.  And I felt the warmth.  We were all bundled (or as bundled as you get in Tucson in November) at 5.45 a.m., with a line wrapped around the small church that we were assigned to.  We were all shivering from the cold and the excitement.  And none of us knew what the hell we were doing.  The people running the sha-bang had changed everything since last time around and they were not expecting there to be a least a hundred eager voters waiting for them before the polls opened.  We were bumbling into each other, jumping into the wrong lines, and looking excitedly at the sample polls plastered on the walls.  But we were all happy to be there.  There were no lunchroom political debates.  No one was pushing or loudly proclaiming who should really be the next prez.  We were all just happy to be there and be a part of it.  Who knows how this exciting day will end?  

All I know is I finally got the warm and fuzzies from an event; I didn't hate everyone there!  We were all doing something good, even if we were all voting in opposition of each other.  We were all just glad to see other people who cared... about anything... about anything important.  I was not in sparse company and I felt warm this (relatively) cold November morning before dawn.

Things I heart

I usually have complaints up here (rants, whatever). I thought I would (should) put up some things that I enjoy.

I am currently loving:
-politics
Everybody is so into everything. I feel no apathy around me at all. Isn't that a nice feeling? Everyone is reading the newspaper, watching the news... Even my students are locked into Channel One, wondering what's going to happen in the world. My email inbox has been flooded with links to articles and video with need-to-know information. I'm just glad we all care. It makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

-etsy.com
I think I have found almost all my Christmas presents already thanks to etsy.com. I love it. Anything you want to find - it's there. And let's just pretend it isn't there - someone will make it for you. On the cheap and on the double.

-fall
The desert doesn't have any of the things I love about fall. But Trader Joe's does. I will find my cider, my pumpkin butter, and my cinnamon applesauce. I leave early enough in the morning that I am chilly. Fall is here, desert - whether you like it or not. I also am nearing the month countdown to going to the Midwest for Thanksgiving. Who knew I'd be so pumped about the Midwest?! Well, I am. Leaves, brisk cold, woodsmoke, family, turkey... Sigh.

-my brother
He's 30! He's old now, I think... which means I only have a few years left! But as we tried frantically to get emails and phone calls through to each other, I realized I have some good family.

-girls' nights out
I have a bit of a girls' night out planned for this evening. Pumped. I need social life. I might be working on that.

-the library
I asked them for some magazines to help me with my persuasion quarter. I have over 100 specially picked out magazines waiting for me to pick up. How awesome is that?

Okay, so it's not that many things. But still. Warm and fuzzy, my friends. That's how I feel.

Vacay

Vacation is bliss.

The 'rents came to visit. Bliss. Shopping, beer, guns, sandwiches, talking, wine, driving. Perfect.

Now we're back home. My agenda today is to let the hubby sleep until he wakes up on his own (this may be a week-long project) and to play as many video games (while taking breaks to play with my puppy) as possible.

I repeat, vacation is bliss.

We may be moving the camping extravaganza to early November, so we don't bake (oh, desert) and so that we can continue this nothingness. It's very, very nice.

p.s.

Everyone is boring.

I've been having my quarter-life crisis, albeit a year late. Assuming I live to be 100. Which I will because I drink red wine.

I'd like to be a writer, but I have nothing interesting to say. I can apparently fill years of a blog with the nothings of my life, but so what? I feel like every blog out there has similar musings of everyday life. What? I'm so rare? By random search, I can find 3,000 other blogs by 20-something women trying to "figure it all out." In print form, we call this chick lit, mostly distinguishable by it's pink, black, and white pallet on the bookshelves of Borders. Throw a diamond on that cover and you've got yourself a bestseller.

I'd like to keep being a teacher, (and I probably will) but I wish it meant something. I like to think of myself rather like Dr. Kelso on Scrubs. I am understandably and effectively a bit distant from my job. I perform better if I'm not worried about feelings, especially those of children. What is best for people is often not pleasant or kind, so I try more to be fair and helpful. All that being said, wouldn't it be great if teaching really was a noble career? It'd be great if I came home everyday and pondered the fragility of youth and my impact on our future world. Instead, I fear for the world that these children's children (unfortunately not far off, most likely) will create. I remember that even on my best days, I am just these kids' English teacher. They will not, and should not, live out their days remembering my class as their halcyon days of youth or as the beginning of their intellectual journeys. Looking back, if forced, I can remember some of my high school teachers. Some of them were phenomenal teachers. But that's about as far as it goes.

Honestly, I didn't want to be best friends with my teachers and I was never in the market for a mentor. I can't see that as my purpose in my career now. I am busy enough trying to force the kids, kicking and screaming, to exceed on their standardized tests. Here's hoping I will.

But.

What if I came home, knowing that I had changed the world forever?

I'd like to be a lawyer. But isn't it the same damn thing? You spend all your time on work (grading papers or legal briefs) that no one ever reads. You spend your time fighting for people (students/criminals/business executives) that won't appreciate it.

I'd like to be a scientist. I could change the world. But for reals. What if I set up the first Earthling habitat on Mars? But it's too late. I suck at math and I hate not being social. There's too much to catch up on in the world of science and who would put me in charge of setting up a new world? No labs for me.

I'd like to be a farmer, but I've got no land and no idea how to, you know, farm.

I'd like to make furniture, but ditto.

I'd like to have a career, a passion, a purpose in life. But instead, I have to spend all my time working and paying bills. Count that out, deduct for time needed sleeping, pooping, and eating (not all at once, people), and what do you have left? Time for a sitcom and a walk for the dog.

I shouldn't complain. Life is working out well. I have a wonderful husband, dog, apartment, and job. I can pay my bills on time and afford the occasional present for myself (Pumpkin Spice Latte, anyone?). I am winning the game of life. It just turns out the trophy isn't so shiny.

Though I'd like to pretend these are somehow philosophical, unique ramblings - they're not. Go search those other 3,000 blogs or those pink shelves at Borders and you'll find the same thing: Whine, whine, what does it all mean, whimper, ... oh diamonds! Even the phrase "there is nothing new under the sun" is biblically old.

Fight Club, Garden State, Punchdrunk Love, About Schmidt, The Great Gatsby - they're all the same. They're great movies and books that say the same thing. "What's it all for?" And no one knows.

Me too.

While this may all seem depressing, I've reached a Zen calm about it. It's nice to know that no one else knows what the hell they're doing either. I've said it before without knowing how true it is: maturity is nothing more than getting better at pretending that you know what you're doing. We're all just wandering around, bumbling, stumbling.

I've decided to enjoy the bustle and see how far I end up from here when it's all over.

I'm missing something

If it wasn't so creepy, I'd take a picture of what's going on outside my window. My apartment complex is having a Fire Safety party. No, I'm serious. There were posters taped on all our doors last week about how there would be "Free food and fire safety!" I did not amp up the same way the rest of my neighbors apparently did.

Now, don't get me wrong; I like my apartment complex. I am pleased to have moved out of my ghetto existence over two months ago. (Time flies, by the by.) Usually, like now, a group of kids plays soccer in the grassy area outside my window. It's nice to finally have the sound of conversations, children's laughter, and puppies barking near where I live again.

However.

I don't understand why there are balloons, food, and (most importantly) more than 50 people on my grassy area listening to fire safety. A fireman, one can only assume, is standing demonstrating the equipment and handing out informational brochures. And people are taking them! And listening! If I could only get that kind of enthusiasm in my classroom...

Again, I am approximately two years from being the old, crotchety woman who looks out her window muttering, "Oh my; oh my." Maybe I'm just anti-social. Maybe they're all just pumped for an opportunity to hang out, eat free food, and make their kids unafraid of the Darth Vader-esque firefighters. Maybe.

Or maybe I just moved into Crazytown, USA.

Either way, Happy Fire Safety Day!

This just in

I just saw the headline, "Britney seen rehearsing!"

Um, hi.  My name is Annika and I do my job everyday.  When do I get my news story?  Better grab the paper; Annika went to work today!  

On that note, it's almost our two week break.  I can feel the wait in the students and the staff.  One more week, one more week, one more week... It's the local mantra.  Also my 'rents are coming to visit in one more week, one more week.  

I'm pumped.