Hair Seek Build True

Usually fortune-telling is just a puzzle to add a little spice to the day, but sometimes, once in a blue moon, the random predictions echo what is in my heart. Like the world is speaking back to me. And I believe.






At least for a few seconds. Until I realize it's probably saying "Seek out a new hairstylist and build a truly dynamic relationship with said stylist." Or maybe "Seek gray hairs on your head as an exercise in building character and truly pluck them out as soon as possible." Or maybe "wearing a hair shirt eventually drives a person to build a place of true comfort in their lives." (Ok, what did that mean?)

The honest truth of it is that I don't think the world could possibly be speaking back to me, because the world doesn't give a damn. And because the world knows I'll never be able to trust anyone enough to let them close to me.

I think I like fortunes better when they leave my hair out of the prediction.

Pet Take Bottle Big

Bought a set of fortune-telling refrigerator magnets in Olympia, and am drawing one new fortune a day. Since I can't ever think up clever titles for my blog entries I'm just going to use the fortunes from now on. Hence "Pet Take Bottle Big." What does it mean???? Who knows. Maybe "My pet cat needs me to take a large bottle of ____". (I can only draw four magnets, so sometimes the fortunes might be sadly truncated.) Or maybe "To instigate in a petting session, take along a big bottle (of wine? vodka? everclear?)"

I love fortune-telling. I love how humans look for patterns, and assign meaning to things which don't really deserve them. I really, really love how the very act of assigning meaning can change our perceptions, change the way we view a situation, and possibly change the situation. It's deep, powerful stuff, but not deep in the way most "true believers" probably think it is.

The quadratic equations I should be working with are giving me fits, so instead I'm sharing Art from Olympia.

Here is a new concept we're playing with. ID came up with it, and I think it's the smartest idea we've developed in a long time. Some people in the group don't like the alcohol-related BYOB connotation, but I think it's really the antithesis of drinking. We could even partner with out Student Programs and Resources during alcohol awareness week. It really isn't much as art goes -- the brain is Microsoft clip art -- but I think it's pretty damn good for something I threw together in five minutes.



The next drawings reflect the current state of learning communities at NLC, and the state we want to achieve. Very happy with these. The Washington Center wants to use the Ferris wheel one on the cover of one of their publications.



And here is what I spent most of yesterday working on -- a new flyer for learning communities. The black-and-white version is what we'll have to go with unless we can talk our VP into paying for color copies.



The line about "more bang for your yin-yang" has to be replaced with something less sexually suggestive, but I can't think of what to replace it with. I want something just as catchy and fun, not something dead like the "Twice as powerful" text on the b/w version.

Going to Shakespeare in the Park on Saturday with a group of friends. Happy to be doing something suburban after my decidedly granola week in Olympia.

(later)

My dean has left the building. His party is over, he's out of here, headed off to a new college. I wish him luck, and hope he can learn to communicates with and support the faculty there better than he did here.

The soon-to-be dean had lunch with me yesterday. We talked about load and contracts, and he actually said "Your goal is to make as much money as possible" like that was an expected and normal goal. I almost fell out of my chair. That isn't really the goal (we're in education, after all) but we do want to be paid the maximum the scale allows in return for our work. Maybe our new dean realizes this is normal, and understands how to use pay to build loyalty instead of resentment? Will I finally have a contract conversation without the accompanying screaming argument? I'm eagerly waiting to see.

(later)

Fighting the blues. I've been highly creative for over a week, and I'm starting to feel the inevitable low following that wonderful innovative high.

I know books won't help, chocolate chips won't help, pizza won't help. And what do I turn to first? Is that a little childish or what? Is a blankie next?

Maybe class tonight will be good. That always helps. And after class I'll take another stab at those quadratic equations. Work helps, too. And the kitchen needs cleaning, so I might as well do that. And also send all those post-conference emails I'm feeling guilty about, so I can get all that guilt off my shoulders.

Lucky I don't have any plans for tomorrow, other than an advisory board meeting. Damn, I have to do laundry for that. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

Packing & First Aid

Been up all night packing for Olympia. I really, really don't want to go on this trip, so I put everything off until the last minute. I think I'm finally almost ready. All I need to do is jump in the shower and shave my legs. I had planned on a little sleep, but I have to be at the airport at 5:45 so why bother? I could get maybe an hour, and I think that would be worse than no sleep at all. Maybe I can get one of those surround-your-neck pillows and sleep on the plane.

One reason I don't want to go to Olympia is that I need to try to salvage a friendship that's dying before my eyes. How do you tell when it's best to let friendship just drift off? How do you know when to fight, or how hard to fight, or if it's even worth fighting for? I'm trying, but the prognosis isn't good. And this is such a difficult situation anyway -- communication sucks, and we've both made mistakes, and I'm starting to suspect our definitions of friendship are miles and miles apart. With our differences we're possibly better off dead. Um, I mean "not friends." Getting totally into the ER speak.

Also want to talk D into taking a new photo of me for match.com. My profile is newly-written, but I want a new photo before I post it. I don't want to date like this. It feels strange and alien. I've always known the men I date for a while before the dating actually starts. But if I want someone in my life then I can't depend on luck. I need to start meeting people who actually want to date, even though this is the most surreal, degrading, and disheartening thing I've ever done. It's worse than a job interview, and I didn't think anything could suck that much.

Gods, starting to sound like a sleep-deprived whiner. (Like that's any different from my usual behavior!) I just want to move forward, but I'm having a ton of trouble gathering enough courage to take even one little baby step.

Walking on Concrete

Putting my feminism and modernisim armor away for the day. I was tired of feeling blue, and also tired of trying to be tough and fight it all. So I quit trying. I gave in to my self-destructive false emotional sureties. I ate a chocolate sundae. I prepared for a crying fit; a fit that never materialized. Instead I spent a pleasant day lounging in bed, reading poetry, reading stupid tarot cards, buying books on mythology, and lounging in the bath while reading about pre-Raphaelites. Damn, I feel much better. Not even my new realization -- that I have a lot more in common with sad-sack Elaine than loved-too-much Guinevere -- is upsetting me.

Photos

Several photos . . . more on my Flickr account.

My front yard before demolition.

My back yard before demolition. Sure, it looks idyllic in photos, but in reality it's full of scratchy branches, spider webs, dust, rotted plants, stagnant water . . .

Looks like I'm out in the country, but this was taken in my front yard. My neighbor's house is just a few yards away.

Another photo of the origami garland. I just can't get a good photo of this!

A shilouette of the origami garland. I like this photo.

My Slice of Life dishes in the "china cabinet" -- a Globe-Werneckie steel bookcase.

Stressing

Decided I must quit planning for something that will never happen. Once I'm back from the conference I'm going to redecorate that room. I'll have a week or so to figure out what to do, and then I'll just freaking do it.

One thing I know for damn sure -- I won't leave room for a TV. No sense in fueling my fantasy.

Very tense. Been tense all week, actually, but tonight it's really bad. I can't calm down.

My dean quit (yea!!) but this leaves me vulnerable to change. There are understandably rumors flying everywhere. Most of them are nice rumors that would make changes I've wanted to see for quite a while. Some are less pleasant. One has my program area reunited with the art department. I started in art, and I left art because they weren't visionary enough to back me or technology. Sending me back would be a disaster. Of course, it's nothing more than a rumor at this point. I just wish I could treat it as a rumor, and not keep myself up nights rehearsing arguments and writing justifications in preparation for something that may never happen.

The awful thing (personally awful) is that it would be good for the school if it did happen. If the two departments were merged correctly it would lessen confusion for the students and potentially bring back the mixture of art and tech that web students really need. But this merger won't be successfully accomplished because 1) college administration is unusually shortsighted when it comes to this kind of decision, failing to get input from key players before moving, and 2) the art department coordinator has the ego of a moose, and will emotionally bludgeon everyone until she gets her way.

I want to escape all this dread for a while. I want to go to Shakespeare in the Park, or go to a museum, or watch an X-Files marathon while tucked under someone's arm. At this point I don't even care whose arm, as long as he's male enough to provide a distraction. But that just isn't happening, so I guess I'll just have to play Doom instead.

Taking the Fun Out of Fun House?

I'm fighting a bad case of the the blues this week. I mope. I sulk. I think about how things should be instead of how they are. I keep writing feel-sorry-for-me Blogger entries, which I delete a few hours later because I'm convinced no one cares anyway.

But I am fighting. I've been listening to upbeat music all day. Purple People Eater, Walkin' on Sunshine, and that meaningless MmmmBop song are all running through my head at the same time. I'm spending the night at my parent's home, watching romantic comedies with Mom, so I'm not alone and gloomy. I am not thinking of

Oh well. So much for not thinking.

Anyway, in my quest to inject some laughter in my life I've come to realize that I live in a pretty serious house. Serious designers and collectibles, serious furniture, serious paint . . . a full-blown grown-up home. And I'm not sure I like it.

There are so many things that don't really fit into my new home!! I don't have a place for any of my Star Wars toys (not that I have that many left -- they paid for college, after all) or my Easy-Bake ovens, or my nurse kits. I no longer feel comfortable buying wonderful junk like this rocket timer, or



this wonderful pillow that actually screams.

So is this a bad trend, or a good trend? I can't decide. Part of me feels the less crap I burden my house with the better off I am because the less I have to clean. But a very important part of me questions this decision because . . . .

Well, because it really isn't a fun decision.

I do have plans for the bathroom. I want to do a mystic fortune-telling shrine in the bathroom, at least until I have enough money to do the wall-to-wall shower I have planned.

I miss kitsch. I miss collecting. I really want a house like Andy's in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, or like that baseball fan in Fever Pitch. That's one reason I wish WW and I had gone out more than once -- I wanted to see his Star Trek room.

And, OK, this is totally stupid, but I have one room in my house I haven't even painted. I always dreamed that would be his room. You know . . . him. The guy I haven't met, the one who is crazy enough to fall in love with me and move into my house, along with his model railroad collection, or video game collection or X-Man collection.

Don't get me wrong, I'm willing to share my house fully -- to redecorate for love. (What a tragedy -- more shopping!!) I'm willing to jettison my pink sheets, maybe get a dinner table, and have his not-so-cool furniture mixed in with my unquestionably upscale thrift-store finds. Repaint the living room so he can actually stand to be in it for five minutes. Even let him choose a bathroom. Heck, he can even have two closets. I want to make it our place instead of mine.

But that room . . . that would be his place, his space away from me and all my insanity. His to paint or to leave white. His to hang NIN posters all over. His to clean or to trash. I also pretend maybe there will be a big-screen TV in there, and that he'll invite me in to watch an occasional movie or comedy since I hate watching TV alone.

Gods, I was trying to make myself fell better by writing a semi-funny entry about kitsch and home humor, and now I'm near crying because I don't have anyone to watch TV with. This sucks. I don't have a life, all I have is a lame-assed blog.

Played Out

Oldest niece and nephew spent three nights with me. I finally had someone to play all my card and board games with! We outdid ourselves by playing every game I own. Not what I expected at all. I thought if I was lucky I would get them to play a couple of hands of Uno with me, but they enjoyed all the novelty as much as I did. So we started with Monkeys on the Moon, and three days later ended with Carcassonne. The kids even wanted to play Settlers of Catan, with its eight-page rule book. We liked it so much we played twice, and have plans to play with a larger group of people over the 4th of July so we can use an expansion set.

Also ate out too much, spent too much money, and enjoyed myself. Conversations on the value of education, a good vocabulary, and (not so) fine points of grammar, plus a ton of grosser-than-gross tales, candy that turned our mouths blue, video games, staring contests, and a planned experiment to see what would happen if we poured six bags of Pop Rocks into our mouths at once. We had a few crying incidents, but on the whole everyone was very well-behaved and very willing to work with others to make our extended slumber party as fun as possible.

The kids introduced me to the musical act Big & Rich, so I have a new favorite saying: "I need a little bang in my yin-yang." I got it this weekend. Had more fun at home with the kids than I did on Sixth Street with tipsy grownups.

Must return to grownupVille tonight and work, but I really want to clean my house, sleep, and play with Landscape Designer 8. I think I'll have to actually do real-world stuff. I know I'll be happier if I get development for this class started so it isn't hanging over my head any longer.

Glorious Disarray

My yard is a mess, full of tree limbs awaiting a new dumpster. In spite of the mess the yard feels amazingly clean. I can see my house from the street, and I love it.

The crew did an amazing amount of work today, and I'm thrilled. Emotionally buoyant. Which is a good thing, because I also had a flat tire today, and locked myself out of my house.

Class was amazing, too. This group of students knows how to ask questions!! I spent too much time on what should have been short group assignments, and I also pulled myself off topic a time or two. Didn't finish lecture soon enough, got off topic more than once, and managed to somehow totally invert lecture so the important stuff came last. Must watch that in the future. Have to remember I don't have to teach everything the first week of class!

Tomorrow is a full slate, and it's 1:00 AM. I shouldn't be awake. Good night.

Big Blue Dumpsters Make Me Happy . . .

Yard demo begins tomorrow! Huge mammoth dumpster in my driveway!! Isn't that wonderful? Everyone thinks so except one of my co-workers, a total "greenie," gets upset thinking about how I'm harming the local ecosystem by killing all the green stuff in my yard. She has a point, but everything will really be healthier and better-looking once dramatically thinned. Plus she isn't concerned enough to come out and trim it for me every year, so that pretty much ends her ability to successfully complain.

Redesigning my site again, and this time I'm far enough along that I might actually finish. I'm plugging in content, dude! Not just messing with Photoshop!

Also feeling very techy and connected this evening. Several months ago I gave a good review to a textbook author I like. We're using his books at school, and he didn't have one nice review in Amazon so I had to speak up and tell everyone how wonderful the book is. He dropped a note in my Amazon in-box and added me to his "cool people" list in Amazon. (Which is how I found his note in the first place -- I Googled my name again, and noticed it was on someone's profile and started investigating.)

Pizza in the oven, a halfway clean studio, and a dumpster in the driveway. What else could a girl want?

Demo Scheduled

Feel much better -- remembered I hadn't paid my taxes yet (they owe me so no late penalty, and I was too damn busy in April) so I'll have a nice return to spend soon. Also getting a small reimbursement from the college for the conference I attended in Austin.

The yard is under way again, with the "trash container" due to be delivered tomorrow afternoon.

Taught a pretty good class tonight. I think this will be a good group, especially if I can actually prepare for my classes instead of teaching the same 'ole stuff I've been teaching for years.

And, possibly best of all, I'm drinking my third glass of strawberry lemonade Gatorade spiked with a couple of super-generous splashes of merlot. Why didn't I try this sooner? Where has this combination been all my life? Maybe I missed my true calling. Maybe I should be a mixologist. Yeah, have to add that to my list of missed careers, right after cool hunter, video game artist, and Hollywood stylist.

Dumps(ters)

Called all over town today looking for a dumpster. The cheapest 30-cubic-yard dumpster (or "container," as they're called in the business) ran me $400 per removal, for a total of $1200 plus taxes. Ouch. That puts the job significantly over budget.

Damn it, I hate to put this off.

Sad Realities

Upsetting decision this evening. I will not, after all, be going back to school in the Fall.

I just can't afford it. Maybe in the spring, after I reduce some of this debt.

I just can't understand why I'm so broke. About eighteen months ago I brought home about $1000 a year less pay and had a $350-a-month car payment, but somehow had plenty of money. I'm not any more extravagant than I was then. I know gas prices have made everything more expensive, but why do I feel so tapped out? Why is every month a struggle to stay in the black? Why am I having so much trouble paying off debt that I used to pay off quickly and effectively?

Household Math

Hired a guy to demolish my yard today. It won't really be a complete demolition, but I love the sound of that word. We spend about an hour walking over the yard, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of. He understands this is a multi-year project, and that year one is all about removal. Next year I'll be able to do more of the fun stuff -- plants and paths -- but just getting this much finished will be a weight off my shoulders.

It's going to cost me about $3000. That includes about $1000 in dumpster fees. Now I have to figure out how to pay for all this. I was going to put the payments on my Visa card, but I forgot to double-check that he would accept a credit card. If he does my worries are over (except for paying it off) but if not I have to write a check on my fragile bank account, and then get the balance on a check from my Mom.

Jim from school said something once about how much larger our summer paychecks are. I mentally said "Hm . . . " and didn't ask what he meant, but now I'm hoping the summer checks really are larger now that I'm on a 12-month payout. I'm pretty sure, though, that he's just talking about the additional money from the quickly-finished summer sessions. I'd better not dream too hard.

I hate all this stuff. I thought about getting a home equity loan, since the interest rates would be less than my credit card, but I only have 6K in equity so I don't think anyone would be interested, even though the loan is for less than 80% of my equity, which is supposed to be what banks look for.

And this bought up the whole refinancing thing again. I really really really want to convert to a 15-yr. mortgage (which is what I asked for originally but -- surprise! -- didn't get at closing) but I can't afford all the refinancing fees. Maybe I can get rolled-in refinancing.

This whole yard thing is really a big mistake, but I think pouring more money into a temporary solution would be a worse mistake. And it will feel so good to get out of my car at night and not regret buying the house.

Demolition Plans

Back home, safe and sober. Next-door neighbor is complaining about my yard again, so I've had my Mom's yard person out to give me an estimate. He said it would take him a week, and cost $700. Ouch. That's a damn expensive haircut.

So I've decided to get into debt again, and do the job properly once and for all. I'm tired of working and working and working, paying and paying, for something ugly and difficult and out-of-control.

Right now I'm looking at a three- or possibly four-year plan:

• Year One -- Raze the existing yard, take care of drainage issues, and do whatever is necessary to get me through winter.
  
• Year Two -- Replace back fence with taller, better-conditioned fence. Basic plantings. Possibly begin flagstone work.
  
• Year Three -- Continue replacing lawn (yuck) with stone (yum)

I'd eventually life to add a hot tub in the back yard. Maybe. If I can do it without some money-eating deck. I'll put money into stone and concrete, but not into wood that needs constant maintenance.