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I’ve reached that point in the break–you know when you start plunging into your existential crisis, waking up at noon, vacuuming the same spot on the rug three times a day, and damning the world for not explicitly explaining why on earth I’m here. AND I still have two weeks left before school starts again. I should probably get a head start on things like classroom observations, but it’s just so easy to spend all day thinking of ways to use up a quart of cream while silently berating myself (bad Kate, how are you going to lose that cruise weight?)
Oh speaking of cruise weight, I went on a cruise with my boyfriend’s family. And I put on about 5 pounds just on that boat because THERE WAS SO MUCH FOOD. And then after a midnight buffet that featured CORN DOGS, they said get off the boat, put on a bathing suit, and hit the beach.
Don’t let the picture fool you. It was about 60 degrees outside and we stayed on the beach for about half an hour before we had to give up the charade of a tropical vacation. So then we walked through beautiful Nassau which was a lot like Georgia Ave. in DC.
Beautiful.
Continue reading Oh hello, 2010.
I woke up to the snow and I thought about the one or two times it snowed at GW and I had to pull on the old boots and trudge my way to class through the muck. Then I remembered, I’m at UVA now. I have a car. I’m not trudging through anything.
Also, my canine companion had a good time eating the snow and looking cute. I mean, look at her:
Unfortunately, my life is not all puppies and snow storms. I had to teach my first lessons to my semi-willing 11th grade class this past week. I’ve had the following conversation with most of my Ed school friends this past week:
KATE: So, I’m teaching my first lesson tomorrow.
FRIEND: That’s awesome! What are you teaching?
KATE: Transcendentalism.
FRIEND: How did you get stuck with that?
Good question Ed School friends with your lessons on grammar and creative writing. How did Kate get stuck with Emerson and Thoreau and the untracked 11th grade class whose response to, “What do you think Thoreau means when he says we should suck the marrow out of life” is “Is he a cannibal?”
(For the record, I spun that ‘Is he a cannibal’ response for about 10 minutes. The kid didn’t know what hit him.)
It doesn’t matter–I taught the lessons, class is over, I have one exam, one portfolio, two reflections, on annotated lesson plan and one journal to go and I’m done with my first semester of super EdSchoolMastersFunTimExplosionEvent. Then it’s cruising, boozing, reading, sleeping until January 20th, 2010. As well it should be.
Last week of classes? What the what, earth? And just think, my reading public has been spared all of the details of sleeping, working, schooling. Sprinkle in the occasional tutoring/observation session and a daily session of trying to talk logic into the dogs (why must we bark at everyone who walks down the street? why must we eat everything that I own?) and a few football games, and you’ve got a pretty clear picture of what’s been going on in Hooville, VA.
But, in other news:
This is my new pal, Jack. He’s my roommate’s dog. We have our differences, normally over who gets to sit on the couch and whether or not he should bark uncontrollably at the mailman.
Continue reading Updated update.
Did I mention that I went to see Britney Spears? Well, I did, but my photographic evidence is stuck on a digital camera that is stuck in Lynchburg.* LYNCHBURG. As in, not in Charlottesville! Crisis 2009!
This thwarted my plans for documenting my first ever college football game experience/tragedy, which is much more interesting if you SEE what happens instead of if I try to narrate the experience. Just know there were many tears and lots of terrible football.
Oh, and I go to school. Whatever.
*The real tragedy is not being able to share the pictures of the shirts I created for the concert. They looked awesome.
School, plz. I have about 20 million text books about teaching kids how to write/read/think without alienating their cultures, backgrounds, and whatever else. And while I’m trying ot read I get to look at this shining happy face. Woof woof woof.
Indeed, little dog, indeed.
I’m a student again at a real live public university. I think I’ll be creating a photo essay wherein I teach the George Washington University about football (note:how sad it is that UVA can teach any school anything about football?). The first step will obviously be to watch every episode of Friday Night Lights until you are aching for Tim Riggins to crawl in your window and tell you that you make him feel closer to God. T-r-u-t-h.
Days away from moving to Charlottesville. Got asked, “Sleepy, sad, or drunk?” at the bar. A little of each? Not sad–something more multi-faceted. It’s hard to explain leaving something so comfortable–the word comfortable just implies that you need something new, but it’s easy and warm and I can be myself here. Just know I want to listen to this song until I fade fade fade away.
I really blew this blog thing. Here’s a recap of everything that happened in the past two (almost three! fuck!) weeks: I drove home from Baltimore, I got sick, I got better, I watched a lot of The View, I went to a Hillcats game, I celebrated my mom’s birthday, I went to Charlottesville, I came home, I watched more TV, I went to Rivermont Pizza, I got sick again (not related to going to Rivermont Pizza).
LAST NIGHT, I drove to Richmond to see My Bloody Valentine play their only mid-atlantic reunion tour date. Look, I don’t geek out about music and shows very often anymore and my once vast list of bands I’d like to see live has been whittled away to a scant number that I believe my heart and ears could handle. But MBV has always retained a spot on that list, but so do the Beatles–you know, I want to, but it’s not going to happen. Luckily half of MBV isn’t dead, so a reunion show was possible (though I’m holding out for the 2025 Beatles Reunion tour complete with holograms and reanimated corpses).
So yeah, MBV is amazing live. And loud. Like, warning signs on the door loud. Like everyone gets ear plugs at the door loud. Like one of the venue’s employee was keeping a close watch on the ceiling loud. Like, my saliva was vibrating loud. I thought Dinosaur Jr. was loud, but holyfuckingshit, it was like a rocket of hundreds of hipsters with dazed grins being lifted off the moon. A-maze-ing. AMAZING. Amazing.
Alright, because I suck, here are my two conciliatory pictures to show you that I’ve been alive for the past couple of weeks. I’ll try and be better–especially as we near moving and weddings (not mine. not mine by a long shot) and selling all of my shit so I can get a haircut.
Continue reading Days ?? — ??
Laura was in class and I decided to use all of my city smarts to head back to the market. Hey, I lived (went to college) in DC for four years(ish) and DC certainly feels bigger than Seattle (Maybe it’s the suits?). I can get on a bus! I can get off a bus!
An absurdly long time later, after wandering around many streets, I was back at the market:
Sometimes I have good ideas. I decided I’d lay a game where I eat whatever I want, regardless of cost or line. I knew I’d be stuffed and probably need to be rolled back to the UDistrict, but this was a good idea. I bought one piroshsky and couldn’t dream of eating anything else. Oh well. Good game.
Continue reading Day 27: Seattle Day 3
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