Friday Night Salon

Here are the Dallas Institute Salon discussion topics for February 2, 2007:

1. The Declaration of Independence states that mankind's "unalienable Rights" include "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." How should we understand the last of these--"the pursuit of Happiness"?

2. To what extent is a non-racist society possible?

3. What are the role and function of a presidential library?

What's your input?

If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right!

I am seriously head-over-heels in love. In fact, I am willing to give up almost anything at this moment for this affair that always takes place during the same time of year, every year. This scandalous relationship is definitely inappropriate in that it is completely unhealthy and habitual. I am addicted to it. Seriously. If I could marry a food, today it would be Girl Scout Cookies. (I have to say "today" because tomorrow it might be broccoli and the next day it might be toast. In fact that sounds like a plan for the week.)

I look forward to Girl Scout cookie season. Everyone has a favorite, and therefore cookie season offers an opportunity not only for palpable pleasure, but also for casual conversation, even with people you don't know! (Which is better than telling people, especially the guy who makes your afternoon coffee beverage (not at Starbucks), that sometimes you are naked and that's why you were in the paper. You don't know why you said it other than it was funny, he was looking at you like you were his very own, special brand of Girl Scout cookie, and it startled your friend, Christine - which is always fun, but is getting harder and harder to accomplish because she is now used to your random, unintentional Rain Man impressions, your seriously manic and masochistic aversion to Gloria Estefan, and the fact that you occasionally walk directly into walls without warning. Also, you sort of take pleasure in the fact that now your coffee maker smiles at you and blushes, which is decidedly better than him gagging, I'm quite sure.) The point is that talking about your favorite Girl Scout cookie is a better conversation topic and a more appropriate one for that type of transaction.


My favorite definitely has to be the Caramel Delights - delicate vanilla cookies drenched in caramel, sprinkled with toasted coconut and laced with dark cocoa stripes.







Rich is particular to the classic Thin Mints -thin chocolate wafers dipped in a rich chocolaty coating with a burst of pure peppermint oil.






This year we tried a new cookie, Lemonades - savory shortbread slices with a refreshingly tangy lemon icing make any day feel like a sweet summer break.




Overall, this has been a very successful cookie season. Alas, we are already half-way through our boxes this year. It is a bitter sweet parting, but mostly sweet... and YUMMY!

In His Presence

From Debbie's Service - the parts that I find especially relevant no matter the name you say in reference to God:

1. Humble yourself to admit that you have personal needs and need other people. Crucify your individualism, and ask others to pray for you. This is an exercise in humility.
2. Take time deliberately to be alone with God. Let him write in the margins of your life. Follow the example of Jesus: Be in a quiet place, on a mountain, by a lake, or at the beach in order to clear the cobwebs from your brain and mute the clamor of noises that competes with God's quiet voice.
3. Don't be captive of the tyranny of the agenda of others. The need is not your call...
4. Make spending time with God a paramount commitment of your life.
5. Make prayer a priority in various time frames, looking for ways to be in continuous communion with God - early morning or evening, in the night seasons.
6. Spend time listening in prayer. It's simple: ask, then be quiet and listen!
7. Choose regular physical disciplines of exercise, good eating habits, and enough sleep. A rested, healthy body removes hindrances to hearing from God.
8. Ask for the fullness of the Holy Spirit in your life.
9. Cultivate a worshipping heart.
10. Cultivate God-centeredness, not self-centeredness.
11. Ask God to blast you out of your comfort zone. Don't settle for a life on a treadmill of activity. "Status quo is the Latin word for the rut we are in." Seek God-given vision.
12. Seek the faces of God, not systems of doctrine, man-made programs, religious enterprises etc. Don't settle for business as usual.

Sangha Renewal

I've been out of sorts and out of town for the last week because Rich and I had something really sad happen in our lives. Rich's step-mother, Debbie, passed away on Monday. She was 51 and her death was sudden and most unexpected. We got the call on Monday and headed to Amarillo on Tuesday morning. The rest of the week was a complete blur, and I think Rich very eloquently described the emotions that we are all feeling at this moment, so I'll direct you to his blog for understanding.

There are many thoughts running through my brain today, as they have been this entire week, and I wanted to share :

I'm reading a book called Going Home, Jesus and the Buddha as Brothers by Thich Nhat Hanh, the same holy man who wrote The Miracle of Mindfulness. Thay (as Thich Nhat Hanh is lovingly called by his brothers and sisters) in Going Home talks about the importance of the Sangha, the community or church, on whom we are supposed to rely for continual nourishment and spiritual growth. This should be a reciprocal, circular connection, one in which the individual has to do her part in order for the community to flourish. Thay reminds us that our job as a community is to be uplifting and cultivating. He says, "A Sangha is our refuge. Taking refuge in the Sangha is not a matter of faith, or belief; it is a matter of practice... If you have a Sangha, you are safe. You can nourish your home and protect yourself... Taking refuge in the Sangha is very important. Not a day goes by when I do not practice taking refuge several times."

And also, "We die (spiritually) so many times a day. We lose ourselves so many times a day. And thanks to the Sangha and the practice, we also come back to life several times a day... Redemption and resurrection are neither words nor objects of belief. They are our daily practice... You are born in order to die again; this is the fact. If the Sangha, the church, and the teacher are not there, you are likely to die again. You may die for a long time before you have a chance to be reborn again. The Sangha is your chance, your opportunity; the Sangha is your life."

And finally, "[Life's] a tragedy and also a comedy. We have to let our faith grow. To help our faith grow, we have to let our love grow. And because our faith and our love continue to grow, our happiness will also grow. If you are not peaceful, and happy and strong, how can you expect to help other people to be happy, and strong, and stable? So let us sit down as a group of brothers and sisters, as a Sangha, to practice looking deeply again into our lives and how to conduct them...we know that without the Sangha, and continuous practice, we cannot grow steadily."

These words were a great comfort to me this week because for the first time in a long time, I felt some sort of renewal or rebirth of my spirit. I have always had a nourishing, uplifting community of friends, my family. Unfortunately, sometimes I get so buried by sufferings - not just my personal ones, but also those of people who surround me and the world's sufferings that I tend to harbor near my heart - that I don't allow my Sangha to help me be reborn. In fact, a lot of times, I push them away because loving people too much allows us to be vulnerable to one another, and being vulnerable is very difficult for me.

This week, I lifted my head a little bit and recognized my Sangha for the first time in a while. I held hands with them, I prayed and cried with them; I looked into their eyes. I smiled at them and I danced with them, even if they weren't physically present. Because of them, I am reborn!

Thank you to all of you who continue to be patient with me and thank you for not kicking me to the curb, especially as I've been ironically selfish in my quest for selflessness. I want to grow steadily, and I think because I want to grow, it will eventually happen thanks to you, my Sangha.

Gary Jules - Mad World (Donnie Darko version)

Donnie Darko completely messed with my head, and after I saw it, I sobbed for 5 minutes and then had to sit in silence for at least 20. I don't know why, exactly - AND yes, I am weird because of it..
Anyway, I love the remake of Mad World and it reminds me of whatever catharsis I had when I watched the movie.

Some fixing ceremony...

"after fixing herself on a huge flat-sided rock, Baby Suggs bowed her head and prayed silently. The company watched her from the trees. They knew she was ready when she put her stick down.. Then she shouted, 'Let the children come!' and they ran from the trees toward her.
'Let your mothers hear your laugh,' she told them, and the woods rang. The adults looked on and could not help smiling.
Then 'Let the grown men come,' she shouted. They stepped out one by one from among the ringing trees.
'Let your wives and your children see you dance,' she told them, and groundlife shuddered under their feet.
Finally she called the women to her. 'Cry,' she told them. ' For the living and the dead. Just cry.' And without covering their eyes the women let loose.
It started that way: laughing children, dancing men, crying women and then it got mixed up. Women stopped crying and danced; men sat down and cried; children danced , women laughed, children cried until, exhausted and riven, all and each lay about the Clearing, damp and gasping for breath. In the silence that followed, Baby Suggs, holy, offered up to them her great big heart.
She did not tell them to clean up their lives or to go and sin no more. She did not tell them that they were the blessed of the earth, its inheriting meek or its glorybound pure.
She told them that the only grace they could have was the grace they could imagine. That if they could not see it, they would not have it.
'Here,' she said, 'in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick them out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people, they do not love your hands... Love your hands! Love them! Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face... You got to love it, you!... This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved... and the beat, the beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air...hear me now, love your heart.' Saying no more, she stood up then and danced with her twisted hip the rest of what her heart had to say while the others opened their mouths and gave her the music. Long notes held until the four-part harmony was perfect enough for their deeply loved flesh.
[She] wanted to be there now. At least to listen to the spaces that long-ago singing had left behind."

from Beloved by Toni Morrison

Mr Brightside (other version)

I've been listening to The Killers a lot lately. I like to sing/scream their songs after a bad day..especially the sarcastic ones.

Here's how you know you've had a crappy day:

1. The alarm goes off, but it doesn't matter because the cat has already alerted you (via obnoxious yowls) to the fact that your alarm is about to go off... in an hour.

2. You have to rush to get ready because, even though you were awake earlier than usual, you were pissed off and refused to get out of bed until you hit the snooze button one extra time. Because of this point that you were making to your.. uh.. alarm clock? cat? Whatever. Because of this, you have no time for proper hair teasing so you look like (or at least feel like you look like) the bride of Frankenstein, only more frizzy!

3. You get to your job and you're met with immediate jackholery (thanks for the word, Lisa). In my case, here's how it went:

I walked into the schoolhouse. I saw a cluster of students. They were all wearing hats which is against the school dress code.
Me: Good morning, guys. Please take off your hats.
Them: (look around like they hear something, but can't tell where from): What? Did someone say something?
Me: Just please take off your hats. You're inside of a building; it's polite to take off your hats. Plus it's the rule. Please take them off.
Them: (dig their fingers around in their ears as if something is obstructing their hearing - a move that had clearly been planned and implemented before): Did someone say something?
Me: Are you serious? I asked nicely. OK. STOP. BEING. JERKS. Take your hats off.
Them: She did not just say that.. We're going to get her fired. She called us jerks.
Me: Do it now!
Them: (Barely lift their hats a quarter inch off of their heads and hold them there (as a statement of what they think of me and my mother) so that when I turn the corner, they can put them back on).

4. You're still walking to your room/floor/cubicle/space etc. and you are met with further insult. Here's my version:

I'm hurrying around the corner and nearly bump into one of my favorite kids.
Me: (brushing off the incident that happened two seconds ago because, as a teacher, that's what you do.) Good Morning!
Him: Ewww!!
Me: ( apparent sad face)
Him: (yelling from down the hall) Sorry, Mrs. Haag! (while laughing)

5. 30% of those to whom you are speaking go to sleep while you are talking, even though you've studied for days, have practiced your presentation AND it is over something you love on a profound level. Also, you are working so hard - enthusiastically gesturing and changing the tone of your voice, doing everything you can possibly think of short of lighting yourself on fire - to entertain your audience. They can't be bothered to look at you.

This happens every other hour, all day.

6. You are supposed to set up a meeting with someone but can't find a place in your calendar because it is so full of meetings that there are NO open spaces.

7. That being said, you honestly can't remember the last time you got to use your time at work to actually do your job.

8. You go to the eye doctor and you hear words/phrases like "glaucoma", "you're too young", "medication," and "your insurance won't cover it".

9. You're called a soccer mom, though you have no kids, you don't drive a minivan, and your hair is not soccer-mom-ish. Frankenstein-ish, yes. Actually, by now it's more wet-cat-ish. But not soccer-mom-ish! You think, "Honestly! When did I become old enough to look like I have a kid who is old enough to play soccer? Wait. I could be a soccer mom! Biological clock IS BROKEN!"

10. You get home and all you can think about is a TALL glass of wine, a hot bubble bath, and a vacation...

(AND you feel like an ass because, though you've had a seriously CRAPPY day, you recognize that you still have it good: 100+ people died in Iraq today - none of whom were your family... and you're at least grateful for that.)

Here you'll watch my clumsy dance..

A few days ago, I posted "Sonnet 17" by Pablo Neruda. Fougs mentioned in her comment the fact that this amazing poet is a Nobel Prize winner in literature (1971). Upon receiving this award, Neruda said something beautiful, relevant, and profound. He said,

"All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence, in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song."

This very much spoke to me today.

What do you think about this?

I feel all Big Brother-y and unsettled by this because I think that it is another way that the government can spoon-feed fear to us. Also, ironically, I chuckled -which is sort of a male, pot-bellied word... so instead I'll say giggled - no that's no good either... um. I found it to be a bit humorous in a sarcastic way - when I read it. Go figure.

What are your thoughts, and will you be signing-up?

FBI Sends Citizens Terrorism Alerts by E-Mail
By Chitra Ragavan Fri Jan 19, 7:02 PM ET

The FBI has sent out 600,000 E-mail alerts to a base of 14,000 subscribers, the bureau tells U.S. News.

The E-mail alert program was launched in October to provide the public, businesses, and law enforcement agencies with timely information on everything from terrorists to fugitives, scammers, and crooks, as well as updated information on terrorist threats. John Miller, FBI chief spokesman, said the system can also be used for crisis communication during a disaster or terrorist attack.
To sign up, one clicks on red envelope icons on the FBI's main website or its 56 field office websites and provides an E-mail address. No personal information is required.
"The new FBI E-mail alert system lets us do several things," Miller says. "It becomes a high-speed information portal for anyone from local law enforcement to the media to the public. As you sign up for it, you can tailor what you want to be notified on based on your interests. It also can be used as a crisis communication tool in the event of a disaster or even a terrorist attack. By letting people know when our website is updated, we can tell them about developments in missing children investigations or most wanted suspects as well."
Miller said the FBI expects the alert system will also help them catch criminals.
"It's a fast, effective way of keeping our partners and the public informed," he said.

( article lifted from the US News and World Report, posted on Yahoo News)

Bloody Bex!

I stole this pic from Rockstar Mommy. I couldn't help myself, and I will (eventually) admit to having a problem..

I think I mentioned before that he will be playing for the LA Galaxy (for an exorbitant, ungodly, -I'm ashamed to say how much- sum of money), and I will be attending the FC Dallas v. Galaxy games, despite my anti-capitalist dry heaves.. Sorry folks. I'm only female...I mean human.

Seriously, just look at the picture.

I find little need for words at the moment. (dreamy sigh)

Hey kids! Pay attention!

Fougs sent me this article via her dad in Cape Cod. This is pulled from the Cape Cod Times, and I think it's a GREAT idea!

At D-Y, students take a stand
By K.C. MYERSSTAFF WRITERSOUTH YARMOUTH -

What with the dress, the tux, and the limo, the average high school student spends $500 to $600 on prom night.

A group of Dennis-Yarmouth students - who call the single-night expenditure frivolous and ridiculous - have a better idea. Zak Jason, and other D-Y Amnesty International members, review a presentation on the crisis in Darfur. The group is planning "No Prom for Darfur," an alternative dance and fundraiser.

Members of Students Take Action Now: Darfur, or STAND, are planning a ''No Prom for Darfur'' party sometime in March. Although the date and place have yet to be finalized, the group is inviting students Capewide to skip the formal wear, updos and corsages, in favor of a big fundraising party to help stop the mass murder of black Africans in the Sudan.

''The original idea was, quite frankly, the prom is ridiculous, particularly when you think what $500 could do for Doctors Without Borders, for example,'' said Jeffrey Howell, a Dennis-Yarmouth High School English teacher and the staff adviser of STAND. This thought was reinforced when Zak Jason, the president of D-Y's student branch of Amnesty International, and fellow Amnesty member Ross Desmarais, studied Darfur for separate school projects last year. The Thursday afternoon Amnesty International discussions were soon dominated by talk of the horrors in Darfur.

''We found all these crazy statistics,'' Jason said. At this time last year, he said, there were 300,000 deaths and 15,000 rape victims. In November, several members of Amnesty went to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge to listen to Eric Reeves, author of ''A Long Day's Dying,'' a book about Darfur.

''It was too dramatic to ignore,'' Howell said. Amnesty members formed a chapter of STAND the next day, Howell said. ''I was disheartened (after his talk),'' said Sarah Hodgdon, vice president of STAND. ''He said nothing will happen unless enough people get together.''

Since 2003, militia known as Janjaweed have been systemically raiding black villages, burning the houses, and murdering and torturing civilians in an attempt to drive black Africans from the area. The death toll is numbing. To put it into perspective, STAND member Connor Gramazio estimated that at the rate of 10,000 deaths a month, small towns like Harwich and Chatham would be gone in two months.

Unfortunately, the group of about 50 concerned students were met with blank stares and angry words when they tried to schedule the ''No Prom'' on prom night.
''There was a lot of drama,'' Hodgdon said. ''People said, 'What's Darfur? Why should we give up our prom for them?' The thing is, if people saw the movies we've seen, they wouldn't feel that way.''

Though the controversy got students talking and raised awareness about Darfur, STAND members ultimately relented. They now plan to hold the event on a non-prom weekend, probably in March. They are exploring venues, such as Cape Cod Community College or Barnstable High School, because they want students from all over the region to attend.
And they're hoping to raise big bucks to donate to humanitarian efforts in Darfur.

But are STAND and Amnesty members ready to give up their prom?
''We haven't thought that far yet,'' Hodgdon admitted.

K.C. Myers can be reached at kcmyers@capecodonline.com.
(Published: January 16, 2007)

So close..

Soneto XVII
Pablo Neruda

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

Sonnet 17
Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Rouge, Gnarles, and Peppers

Last night was the Red Hot Chili Peppers show at American Airlines Arena.

Rich and I got ready (and successfully avoided the student who has my home phone number somehow and who wanted to know where I was sitting at the show), drove through the freezing rain and made it to the concert. We found our section, our row, and then we turned to get to our seats and OF COURSE I hear, "Mrs. Haag?!" Yep. One of my IBers was sitting on my row a few seats down from me. As I was trying to hide my beer (I don't know why) and was trying to not look flabbergasted (after all, I do really like this kid), I said, "Oh, hi J. How are you? Yeah, this is fun. A is here, too? really? where? (uncomfortable glance around the aisle) OK, I'm gonna head to my seat now. See you later." J and I only exchanged one other conversation when she came over to chat a little and then we gave each other one extra side glance as Rich was being elbowed in the face by Rouge. All in all, it wasn't an unpleasant situation.

Who is Rouge?

Rouge - short for Baton Rouge, as in the place where this drunk RHCP groupie was raised - sat next to us and flailed like a mad fiend, falling all over every one around him, spilling (more like pouring) beer on his own crotch, and putting on and taking off his shirt over and over again. This is him:The boy was "feeling the love" quite literally. At least I got something like four hugs (and I say something like because they were only "sort of hugs" that were more like the hugs boxers give each other in order to stay standing) before Rich traded places with me. Rich must have had 75 "sort of hugs" as the evening progressed (and he got at least one nipple tweak), as did everyone else in a 5 mile radius - hugs, not tweaks. I was worried about the guy getting sick, but I was amazed at Rouge's stamina. I think Rouge even tried to buy shots for the people serving beer (who wisely cut him off) which is really ballsy seeing as they don't serve shots. This happened all before the music started. As responsible members of society, and since Rouge was by himself, we made sure that he wasn't driving. Rich thought Rouge was pretty funny and anyway, he is used to being beat-up at concerts.

Gnarles Barkley kicked off the evening and was good. How can you go wrong with funky, bluesy, hip-hoppy soul ? Oh. You play it in an arena... The string section - who do some pretty impressive chair dancing - are called the G-strings: clever and cool. Overall, Gnarles Barkley was a fun, friendly warm-up.
Then it was the Chili Peppers' turn



They started off boldly and I was pretty excited when Anthony Kiedis hopped onto the stage. How can hopping be sexy? Anthony Kiedis is a sexy hopper! Musically, I thought they were pretty strong, especially John Frusciante, the guitarist. But at the end of the night I left completely disappointed. The only band member who talked to the audience was Flea - and we love Flea - but Anthony Kiedis barely said anything. When he did, he said something derogatory about football which almost got him booed out of the arena. Dude! You're in Texas! We invented Friday Night Lights! He left he stage pretty early and the band didn't even play "Tell Me Baby", one of their most popular tunes on Stadium Arcadium. Anything they played off of Blood Sugar Sex Magik was good and "Snow" was fun, but the band didn't even attempt to connect with the audience. I could have watched this show at home on TV in surround sound and had the same experience!

I realize I'm spoiled because NO band can compete with the type of show that U2 gives. Even in a giant stadium, you feel like U2 is playing for you. And let's not forget that Joan Jett rocked hard! So what gives? Obviously, the RHCP are talented musicians and they are still around after 20 years so they're doing something right.

Also, the Star Telegram had a similar review:

There's not a whole lot new going in the Chili Peppers act these days. Flea still overplays his bass with considerable ferocity, Anthony Kiedis still sings nonsensical lyrics about California and has trouble hitting a good portion of the harder-to-reach notes, and drummer Chad Smith, well, still wears hats on stage. The only real change in the band's classic sound is guitarist John Frusciante.
Frusciante, who has always been just a touch better than the rest of the band, continues to explore new ground as a guitar player. Where he's considerably reined in on disc, he runs wild live. Where Flea gets noticed for how much he plays, Frusciante does more while playing less than anybody this side of Prince.

Maybe they would be better in a club show. Most bands are.

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow (Hey Oh)

I'm so super pumped about this show tonight!!!

The BEST Margaritas EVER

For those of you who are of age, here is the recipe for the best margaritas EVER. This is my mom's recipe. We call them "He is Risen" margaritas which sounds exceedingly sacrilegious -and come to think of it, it probably is - but we had them on Easter at my mom's once and quipped that while everyone else had chocolate bunnies and fake grass (also sacrilegious?), we were having the best margaritas in the world:

Mix one to one of each:

1 12oz can of frozen limeade
12 oz of Tequila
(use the empty limeade can to measure)
1 12 oz bottle of Mexican beer (any beer will work, but we are partial to Corona)

12 oz of Sprite or 7up (Sprite is more sweet)

Stir.

Add fresh lime and salt to the edge of a cool-looking glass and voila!

You have the PERFECT Margarita!

Here's a word of caution: These will knock you on your ass if you're not careful. That AND they are especially popular at baby showers (the mom to be should not partake, as you already know). Maybe you should consider the fact that we are not model baby shower hosts seeing as our baby showers involve Texas Hold'em.. BUT that was one helluva baby shower, right Pat and Amanda?!

Enjoy and drink responsibly!

Personally Beckham

I've gotten away from what most would consider the main purpose of blogging (literally writing a web log as in keeping a journal on the web), though I think that blogs should be whatever we want them to be. That being said, there is a lot of stuff going on with me personally (and publicly too).

Here is a sampling (the part where I get to be a braggart):

1. As I've said before, our literary magazine won an award at Columbia University which is fantastic(!). I received a letter the other day asking me to speak at one of the journalism workshops that precedes the awards ceremony at Columbia U, but I think I'll decline for two reasons: a. I can't get to New York this spring break for the workshops because in Texas, football trumps anything to do with the liberal arts, so that's where the money (and love) goes. Believe me, I've already fought this battle. b. I really don't know what I'm doing. My staff is incredible. Apart from begging for money, redirecting, and knowing what looks good on a page, I have relatively little to do with the production of the mag. It still feels good to be asked. Yay for the nod.

2. Also, as I've mentioned, I am teaching (co-teaching with the amazingly brilliant Christine) International Baccalaureate English A1 at my school. This is an advanced course which operates like a college class. I have to study LIKE MAD to keep up and my grading gets graded by the IB gods who reside in places like Geneva and Cardiff (but no pressure...oh and no extra money, either. sucker!). The Arlington Star Telegram (our local paper) came to visit our class yesterday. They interviewed us and watched us in action. I think they got some interesting pictures of me redirecting some students who thought it might be funny to catapult waded paper across the room, but also, they took some classic teaching pictures: Me pointing to a book on a student's desk... Me explaining something with my hand up, palm open... One of me squatting next to the desk of an inquisitive student (you get the idea). These were not staged, exactly, because I really do posture like that, but I felt pretty cheesy having others see my true teachery stance. Next I'll be wearing apple vests and jean skirts. Whatever. Hopefully now I'll be famous and the LA Galaxy will ask me to play for their team and will pay me a quarter of a billion dollars to fill seats in a stadium... (sidetracked - or derailed, really.) Mmmmm. Beckham...(sigh.)

3. This week-end is the RHCP concert and I am COMPLETELY stoked about that. I'm diggin' the music scene this year. My students will be there too, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, it's sort of a bonding experience and I do get "cool teacher" points which actually carry over into the classroom. On the other hand, I like to be me on the week-ends, disassociated from that part of my life. The kids once told me that they hadn't made a fake face book site or a you tube parody for me because they didn't hate me enough... yet. As they were talking about one of these mocking you tube videos, and as we (Christine and I) were shutting down that conversation, one of them said to both of us, "But don't worry. We haven't made one for you because you're pretty and nice." Later, we thought about which one of us would be pretty and which one would be nice and SADLY, we both wanted to be the pretty one. Damn-it! I thought we'd finally made it past the superficial. We're mostly nice. At least I think we are... and pretty. (grin) ANYWAY the point is, concerts and similar events help me at my job, but I also like NOT seeing my students at every restaurant and show in town.

So there are good things all around. I just have to remember to look up occasionally!
This concludes the personal blog without all of the ugly/relevant emo bits (which might include something to do with the president's announcement yesterday, gradual global destruction, sectarian violence, anarchism, and/or moths and butterflies).

Haddaway meets Jim Carrey

Listen to this as you read Martini-weeny.

Martini-weeny

I went out last night with one of my favorite people on the planet. H and I have been (creative) banter enthusiasts, brainwave sharers, and - most importantly - soul sisters (!) for nine years or so . We hadn't seen each other in a year (NO excuse!) and we wanted to have a girl's night out. We headed over to a local place - a flip-phoney, trendy type establishment where one can order kick ass martinis with names such as "the naughty Asian" and "saketini," AND at which one can get beautifully ornamented, volcanic sushi. As usual, we giggled (less girlie-like and more rotund in intonation, I think - maybe guffawed is more like it), gestured wildly, and pretended to have dueling chopsticks lodged in our eyes. Ours is the kind of friendship that is bigger than time barriers. The cliched phrase goes something like, "Even if an entire year goes by (and again, NO freaking excuse!!!), it feels as though no time has passed."

It wouldn't be an evening with Ginger if something interesting (and circusy) didn't happen, so here it is - my very own Martini-weeny Drama:

The scene: We sit, literally "perched" at our very tall, very wobbly cocktail table, our backs to the minimalist grey concrete wall. The curvy bar really "pops!" in front of the blue back-lighted wall which doubles as "atmosphere". Sexy niches line this wall and flaunt the clear, liquidy brilliance of displayed (and rather functional) bottles of vodka and gin. Several panels of cinched, velvety red curtains separate the bar area from the white tablecloths and candles in the main dining area. Also in the main dining area - in a dark corner of the room - is the musician du jour. This time it's a lovely acoustic guitarist. The place is warmly modern - cozy even, and a little bit jazzy in a John Mayer-y kind of way.

Things could not have been better; We had a great view of the goings-on, our waitress, Diane - who we wished was sitting with us instead of working - was AWESOME, and we were loving the dialog, the chill martinis, and of course the chop-sticks (which for me are used more as props and less as utensils) and sushi. That is UNTIL...

(cue Haddaway's "What is Love")

...we saw Todd. H and I decided that his name had to be Todd. He decidedly looked like a Todd and he will forever be known to us as Todd. Let's see. How do I describe Todd to you in a way that is more "oh, bless his heart," and less Mean Girls... OK. (sigh) I'll tell it straight. Todd is a middle aged man who is drunk by 5:30, who has the leftovers of an 80's feathered mullet, and who likes to give every person who has even a hint of breast the OBVIOUS once over. Todd is one who might shoot you with his index finger, click his tongue, and wink at you while smacking on his Double Mint - you know the gesture. He's the kind of man who goes to the martini bar and orders Amstel Light. Todd is the guy who becomes more and more confident as the evening progresses, and eventually he is not only turning his head as the ladies walk by, but he is also giving them all handsy hugs (poor Diane!). He works the entire room, engaging in what he thinks is "witty schmoozing" but which is more akin to some sort of moose-like mating yawp. You get the picture. Oh, and bless his poor little heart. (That's what Texas Christians are supposed to say in an effort to clear their own guilty consciences after being brutally mean to someone.)

The question becomes: How does one deal with the socially awkward "Todds" of the world? H and I did what we always do - we observed Todd: we predicted various physical outcomes, mentally formulated hypothetical (hysterical) and unavoidable verbal train-wrecks, and grinned at what we consider to be our own genius. Then we went back to performing chopstick theater.

It was fine, until we had to use the facility, which was on the other side of the room which meant we had to either walk by Todd or interrupt the white tablecloth-ers to get there. H decided to take the road less traveled: option two, tablecloths be damned! When she got back and it was my turn, I decided that no Todd was going to interrupt my OCD paved walking path to the ladies room.

But I froze.

(Ginger's internal dialog to the tune of a weepy string ensemble): What if Todd doesn't give me the once over!? (enter stage right: Insecure Girl, cape a-flyin') OK. I'm just going to go. A frank and decidedly confident friend once told me (in Dr. Phil terms) that most people, "probably don't think about you as much as you think about them." Why do I even want Todd's approval? Stupid! I'm going.

And I went - without worrying about Todd - though I may have pulled my shoulders back a little more than usual, and one might have observed (only if they were really studying) something of a stiletto strut... (sigh again and a whispered, "damn it.") H later told me that I got three Todd once-overs. Does that make me successful or pathetic? Wait. Don't answer that.

As is required in any bathroom corridor in the US, there was a line. That was not unexpected, except that it gave Todd a chance to catch up to me.. And for the record, I honestly do not think Todd really was following me. Actually I'm quite sure he wasn't because he was really too wobbly to be following anyone. Todd was "kind" enough to slur out an invitation for us to use the men's (ahem, boy's) restroom ahead of him. We - the girl's line - politely declined, but Todd insisted, assuring us that though the men's room might not be as sanitary or clean-smelling as the women's, it was in fact, available. Also he, "didn't blame us for not using the men's because after all [he] too prefer[s] the women's restroom." (wink)... The girl's line quickly dispersed after the silent and uncomfortable time pause and fight or flight shuffle. About that time, the door to the ladies opened and I got to duck-in and lock the door, relieved in my Todd-free sanctuary.

In the end, Todd went to his corner and I went safely back to mine.

(and SCENE!)

Though I've been incredibly ass-ish and insensitive about this whole incident, I genuinely feel sad for the Todds of the world because I recognize him in my own psychosis. I know that I have been the insecure, lonely Todd (without the mullet) in one form or another in many circumstances in my lifetime. That being said, how do we save ourselves when we turn into the Todd? and probably more importantly, how do we allow Todd to be Todd and accept (and like(?)) who he is without allowing him to be an objectifying ass?

Anyway, the rest of the evening went swimmingly well and I so enjoyed catching up with my H, who did, incidentally, have her own special encounter with Todd; but that's a different drama and I'll allow her to tell you about it.

Happy New Year!

Despite the great clothing pandemic of 2006, our New Years evening at Trinity Hall was a great success! Thanks to Marius and his awesome staff for the excellent food(!), for entertaining us with all of the jig-a-licious Irish music, and for providing a venue for the perfect verbal fireworks*. Thanks also for the noisemakers, hats, and other traditional New Years accoutrement! You rock!

*Verbal fireworks at the end of this post

here are some pics from the event:

Happy New Year from our little corner of the world!

I had a great view!

The theme of the evening was pinwheels...Here's mine.

The countdown begins: FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO

One.

*Statements overheard at our table:

1. g- What a beautiful dress! I wish I looked like that tonight..

r -No baby. That's a kilt - it's just for boys.

2. g - Either that girl is drunk or her shoes hurt real bad.

3. g - I'm cold like there's a window open somewhere.

r - I'm feeling that way too. You just need to drink more.

4. A guy walks by with a plunger.

r - Should we lift our feet? It does seem early in the evening for a plunger.

5. g - look out! Here comes Kenny Rogers!

6. to the waitress from the guy at the next table - Today is Trish's birthday. I don't know who Trish is, but Happy Birthday Trish!

7. from a random guy to all - You want cowbell? You get cowbell!

8. r or g - I don't know what this is, but it's NOT Guinness.