Almost exactly two years ago tomorrow marks my exit from Korea. I can't believe how fast time goes by. I loved Halloween in Korea. All the teachers dressed up with their classes and would parade around the neighborhood while our students would pass out candy- kind of the opposite of Halloween- but, the Koreans didn't notice since they don't even celebrate the holiday. It was a day for leisure...to forget about school work and to indulge in whatever kind of chocolate and sweet we could find in Korea. Each class was given a theme to dress up as. Two years ago my class, K-1, had the theme of superheros. I went as Cat woman. Almost every girl in my class was Wonder Woman. Adorable.
Last night at church my weekly time, "Tech time with Erica," was "Trivia time with Erica." To prepare, Ashley thought I should be tested on my Halloween trivia knowledge. When asked, "Samhainophobia is a fear of what?" - I responded "cellophane." I can be so daft sometimes. The theme was Halloween. Also, I learned that growing the biggest giant pumpkin can win you as much as $25,000.00 at most fairs. Ashley suggested I research just how to grow these giant pumpkins to put myself through Law School. Now that is a hobby.
p.s. i miss a friend i'll never get back. How does one cope with that? I mean, as Amber said last night, "He wasn't even that great of a friend in the end," she is right. But I am still sad that our relationship (just referring to the friendship aspect... I'm not sad our romantic relationship is over) is broken. I seriously miss him- and for that, I want to punch myself in the face.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Body Pump
Join the gym. Forget that exercise is salutary. Join because it offers unparalleled observational humor. In the beginning, don’t even workout. Bring a lawn chair, unfold it in the corner, have a seat, smoke a cigarette, knit, read the paper, but make sure to watch. Sure, you may be labeled a pervert, but pay no attention to the labelers.
Unconvinced? I’ll press on. You see the guy in the opposite corner with the thinning hair, wearing an oversized T-shirt tucked into his track-pants? He’s a septuagenarian and he’s in better shape than you were, are now, or ever will be. Discouraged? Don’t be. He looks funny when he works out, and if you worked out, you wouldn’t look like that because, well, that would be impossible. The move where he places a bar behind his neck, rested on his shoulders, arms wrapped around it, and twists his hips so far in the opposite direction of the way he twists his arms that he pops his hips out of their joints producing a stunningly ungraceful staccato of motions isn’t replicable. On an inspirational note, notice how he’s not letting those hip replacements hinder him from a good workout. If you decide to pick up the weights but are fearful of injury, use him as evidence that injuries of age or recklessness don’t spell the end of activity.
Or take the lady moving about the back, the pear-shaped one. Is she leading an imaginary dance class? Nope. She is just working out, same as the rest of us, but unconventionally… nay, creatively. She’s got her music in her ears, and she’s dancing her heart out, not missing a beat; sometimes even seamlessly incorporating the overhead music into her routine as well. Remarkable. Of course, her twists and twirls don’t look pretty, or sexy, at least not in that outfit of grey cotton (hello sweat stains), but she doesn’t care because she’s dropping pounds faster than you can put them on. She used to be a Big Mama Pear, now she’s well on her way to the body of Goldilocks.
How about our friend from the Philippines? He looks like he forgot to change; wearing tight belted jeans, steel-toed boots, and a well-worn yellow T-Shirt that he says make his arms look good. Go on, get up, and talk to him. He’ll tell you that you’re too young to be here; that you’re wasting your time in the gym when you could be chasing “tha girllsz” in Asia. He’ll talk to you for a good hour if you let him because he doesn’t have much of a workout to get to. He’s only there for one exercise: the overhead tricep extension on the G5 cable motion machine (Signature Series). Why only one exercise? Because he had a girl in his younger days who was enthralled with his triceps, and as a result or coincidentally, no one really knows, loved him. Now, even at sixty, he has virility that needs satiation and he’s trying to rekindle the kind of affection bestowed upon him in youth in the only way he knows how… through killer triceps.
One more: the early middle-aged man with the body of a steroidal Adonis who just walked in. You see him? Yeah, that’s him, the one in the red Everlast muscle shirt whose front spaghetti straps afford barely enough material to cover his nipples. The reason why he’s walking in at this time is because it’s taken him weeks to match his schedule with the Barbie Doll who’ll be entering in about five minutes. They’re decades apart in age, but in this gym and with a body like his anything can happen, or so he thinks. He’s flexing in the mirror now, making sure he looks good for her. There’s no direct inspiration to take from this guy. That’d be foolish. No, you’ll never get a body like his, but keep in mind this is all he knows how to do. Flex. Lift. Ogle. Stalk. And stare in the mirror. For some the gym is an exercise in vanity more than anything else. Let Narcissus have his reflection. You and I know how that myth ends so let’s have a laugh at his pathetic expense… but not too loud cause he could kick our- well, you know what.
Unconvinced? I’ll press on. You see the guy in the opposite corner with the thinning hair, wearing an oversized T-shirt tucked into his track-pants? He’s a septuagenarian and he’s in better shape than you were, are now, or ever will be. Discouraged? Don’t be. He looks funny when he works out, and if you worked out, you wouldn’t look like that because, well, that would be impossible. The move where he places a bar behind his neck, rested on his shoulders, arms wrapped around it, and twists his hips so far in the opposite direction of the way he twists his arms that he pops his hips out of their joints producing a stunningly ungraceful staccato of motions isn’t replicable. On an inspirational note, notice how he’s not letting those hip replacements hinder him from a good workout. If you decide to pick up the weights but are fearful of injury, use him as evidence that injuries of age or recklessness don’t spell the end of activity.
Or take the lady moving about the back, the pear-shaped one. Is she leading an imaginary dance class? Nope. She is just working out, same as the rest of us, but unconventionally… nay, creatively. She’s got her music in her ears, and she’s dancing her heart out, not missing a beat; sometimes even seamlessly incorporating the overhead music into her routine as well. Remarkable. Of course, her twists and twirls don’t look pretty, or sexy, at least not in that outfit of grey cotton (hello sweat stains), but she doesn’t care because she’s dropping pounds faster than you can put them on. She used to be a Big Mama Pear, now she’s well on her way to the body of Goldilocks.
How about our friend from the Philippines? He looks like he forgot to change; wearing tight belted jeans, steel-toed boots, and a well-worn yellow T-Shirt that he says make his arms look good. Go on, get up, and talk to him. He’ll tell you that you’re too young to be here; that you’re wasting your time in the gym when you could be chasing “tha girllsz” in Asia. He’ll talk to you for a good hour if you let him because he doesn’t have much of a workout to get to. He’s only there for one exercise: the overhead tricep extension on the G5 cable motion machine (Signature Series). Why only one exercise? Because he had a girl in his younger days who was enthralled with his triceps, and as a result or coincidentally, no one really knows, loved him. Now, even at sixty, he has virility that needs satiation and he’s trying to rekindle the kind of affection bestowed upon him in youth in the only way he knows how… through killer triceps.
One more: the early middle-aged man with the body of a steroidal Adonis who just walked in. You see him? Yeah, that’s him, the one in the red Everlast muscle shirt whose front spaghetti straps afford barely enough material to cover his nipples. The reason why he’s walking in at this time is because it’s taken him weeks to match his schedule with the Barbie Doll who’ll be entering in about five minutes. They’re decades apart in age, but in this gym and with a body like his anything can happen, or so he thinks. He’s flexing in the mirror now, making sure he looks good for her. There’s no direct inspiration to take from this guy. That’d be foolish. No, you’ll never get a body like his, but keep in mind this is all he knows how to do. Flex. Lift. Ogle. Stalk. And stare in the mirror. For some the gym is an exercise in vanity more than anything else. Let Narcissus have his reflection. You and I know how that myth ends so let’s have a laugh at his pathetic expense… but not too loud cause he could kick our- well, you know what.
The gym is a sanctuary of comedy. Too scared to work out because you don’t want to look like an idiot? That’s piffle. Why are you taking yourself so seriously? Suck it up. You will look ridiculous. But most people will be too busy watching fellow gym goers like the ones above or looking at themselves in the mirror to notice you. So put on those cutoffs and join the muscled masses. Don’t stop until your shoulders merge into your head.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Come tomorrow, I'll be alright
I had a very bad week last week, one of those horrible days one right after the other where you can't do anything right and nothing goes your way. I really screwed up at work, yikes. I didn't get to talk to Ashley all week and when I did I was cranky (we all know where that ends up). Roommate disagreements/confrontations. Haven’t seen Chad and Kristin in over a week. Mreh. Then yesterday, at church, I almost fell down the stairs while handing a communicant a microphone so they could site a catechism for their membership initiation…in front of the entire church. If that wasn’t bad enough…2 weeks back into the praise and worship scene and I am sinking, sinking, sinking. I feel naked just singing without my guitar…like I’m a timid little girl…which doesn’t make for strong vocal performances-and during my solo for the offertory- instead of singing the correct lyrics, “Amazing love, now flowing down,” I said, “Amazing love, now falling down….” Lately, I’ve just wanted to quit on life.
And now, this morning, I had a bottle of rubber cement in my purse leak into a puddle at the bottom. Then while cleaning it up I managed to get it everywhere including into a unhealed scrape on my hand; which proceeded to become painful. After calling poison control I found out that rubber cement can cause second degree burns if it remains too long on skin which meant letting the very thick layer dry so it can just be peeled off was not an option. The simple solution was to wash it off the skin but it was a sticky irremovable substance that didn't mix well with water. So I got out different types of soap, lotion and oil, BUT the fumes were making me high and there was rubber cement mixed with soap and oil all over my office bathroom. Why did I have rubber cement in my purse you ask? Simple, so I can have a wonderful Monday laughing at myself and hopefully giving everyone else a chuckle at my Bridget-like behavior. I am seriously a mess.
I am on the long-term plan for reaching my desired career of choice. Last Winter I took the LSAT and did swimmingly well. Too well, for this girl who didn’t study like she should have. After realizing getting in to Law School wouldn’t be a challenge, the reality of funding my Law Education was much bigger than I could handle. I am not willing to take out hundreds of thousands of dollars to get a degree I will never use for financial profit. I looked at the government debt forgiveness program…still not good enough of a deal for me to call up Sallie Mae and take on another 130,000 to the – well, let’s not assign a number to exactly how much debt I am still in…but, rather focus on the nearly 38,000 I’ve paid off in 4.5 years. So, I think I’ve come up with a plan. I am going to be out of debt from Undergrad by December 2010. Then I have one year- until the fall of 2011 when my awesome LSAT score expires and I have to take that Beast again to save up and have at least my first year of Law School paid for. Hopefully after that point I’ll be able to apply for more grants and scholarships to fund the rest of my education. If not, I’ll have to figure out a way to get my degree, without taking out loans. So what if I don’t get my degree until I am 35? So…I’m trying not to be impatient and enjoy this process. I am not going to lie…I have to daily fight the urge to give up, pack up all my crap…and move across the world.
I have recently discovered the thing I dislike about me the most. When I change it, because I can cause it is a disgusting habit rather than a character trait, I’ll let you know.
And now, this morning, I had a bottle of rubber cement in my purse leak into a puddle at the bottom. Then while cleaning it up I managed to get it everywhere including into a unhealed scrape on my hand; which proceeded to become painful. After calling poison control I found out that rubber cement can cause second degree burns if it remains too long on skin which meant letting the very thick layer dry so it can just be peeled off was not an option. The simple solution was to wash it off the skin but it was a sticky irremovable substance that didn't mix well with water. So I got out different types of soap, lotion and oil, BUT the fumes were making me high and there was rubber cement mixed with soap and oil all over my office bathroom. Why did I have rubber cement in my purse you ask? Simple, so I can have a wonderful Monday laughing at myself and hopefully giving everyone else a chuckle at my Bridget-like behavior. I am seriously a mess.
I am on the long-term plan for reaching my desired career of choice. Last Winter I took the LSAT and did swimmingly well. Too well, for this girl who didn’t study like she should have. After realizing getting in to Law School wouldn’t be a challenge, the reality of funding my Law Education was much bigger than I could handle. I am not willing to take out hundreds of thousands of dollars to get a degree I will never use for financial profit. I looked at the government debt forgiveness program…still not good enough of a deal for me to call up Sallie Mae and take on another 130,000 to the – well, let’s not assign a number to exactly how much debt I am still in…but, rather focus on the nearly 38,000 I’ve paid off in 4.5 years. So, I think I’ve come up with a plan. I am going to be out of debt from Undergrad by December 2010. Then I have one year- until the fall of 2011 when my awesome LSAT score expires and I have to take that Beast again to save up and have at least my first year of Law School paid for. Hopefully after that point I’ll be able to apply for more grants and scholarships to fund the rest of my education. If not, I’ll have to figure out a way to get my degree, without taking out loans. So what if I don’t get my degree until I am 35? So…I’m trying not to be impatient and enjoy this process. I am not going to lie…I have to daily fight the urge to give up, pack up all my crap…and move across the world.
I have recently discovered the thing I dislike about me the most. When I change it, because I can cause it is a disgusting habit rather than a character trait, I’ll let you know.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Hey you. Just be yourself.
Welcome one and all. I am currently sitting in at work thinking about what I witnessed the other night. I was sitting in a local bar listening to a man dressed in black (like Johnny Cash who did,
in fact, seem to be growing a beard of shame) converse with the man sweeping the floor behind the bar.Man behind the bar sweeping says, "I'd rather do this than wake up in the morning."Man dressed in black says, "You know what's ironic? You have to wake up in the morning in order to sweep."And I am thinking, "Wow. Where has all the good conversation gone?"
in fact, seem to be growing a beard of shame) converse with the man sweeping the floor behind the bar.Man behind the bar sweeping says, "I'd rather do this than wake up in the morning."Man dressed in black says, "You know what's ironic? You have to wake up in the morning in order to sweep."And I am thinking, "Wow. Where has all the good conversation gone?"
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Gay Cloning OR The Sky Has Fallen
On my iTunes I have the option of listening to radio stations from around the world. My favorite when I lived in Korea was WNYC-AM, a public radio station from New York City. I remember particularly when there was a bunch of news about the new Pope being elected, WNYC-AM had numerous commentators weighing in on the possible political and theological influences and implications that the Pope will effect around the world, particularly with respect to Americans.One of the commentators was asked the question: "how will the socially conservative views of the new Pope resonate with Americans?"Her response: "...the Pope's conservative views will probably resonate well with conservative evangelical Americans. In particular, I'm thinking of 'life' issues such as abortion, cloning, and GAY CLONING..."
She had me on the floor rolling in laughter.Gay cloning. It's a hot issue. In fact, I can't think of an agenda more threatening to the conservative agenda than that one. Playing God AND sinning sexually. While it may not be the end of the world, you can see it from here.
What social issue concerns you the most?
She had me on the floor rolling in laughter.Gay cloning. It's a hot issue. In fact, I can't think of an agenda more threatening to the conservative agenda than that one. Playing God AND sinning sexually. While it may not be the end of the world, you can see it from here.
What social issue concerns you the most?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Happy Monday
I am seriously an idiot. I am such an extremist and one would think the mere knowledge of that fact would help me to control the issue. Nope. I've been flirting with the idea of running the Governor's Cup this coming Saturday. In preparation, I thought I should get up this morning and run for an hour. My logic was, "If I can run an hour, I can run the 8K- no sweat." Lies. My body is having its own little riot against me. It is not like I just started running out of the blue. I run about 2.5 miles three times a week. I ran a little over 6 miles this morning. I don't know that I'll even be able to move tomorrow. So, I've concluded...no Governor's Cup for me.
What's What: Pears are delicious. And that picture is RAD.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
URGH
It is only Saturday and I have had a CRAZY weekend. The Middle School Girls Lock-In was a hit. Complete with a Confessional Booth as seen in MTV's The Real World where Ashley and I rehashed our middle school traumatic boy experiences while wearing LL Cool J's wardrobe from the 90's (Ashley) and an awesome Christmas sweater and blue wig (me). I wasn't home schooled until after my freshman year in high school so up until then I went to public school. In middle school I was in band- that's right, I played flute and oboe (how hot is that?) and a saxophone player (Zach Richardson) asked me to the 8th grade dance. I was super excited. About 2 days after he asked me, my grandmother passed away. I told my mom she was ruining my life because the funeral was the Friday of the 8th grade dance and she was making me travel to Ohio causing me to miss the event of the year at D.R. Hill Middle School. What kind of child, after learning of the death of her grandmother, schemes and invites herself over to her best friend's house trying to skip out on the funeral? Me. Wow. I was heartless. Has much changed?
This afternoon, I decided to take out the trash as Amber was leaving for work. I followed her out the door not knowing she had locked it. That is right. Before I knew I was locked out, she was well on her way to Moe's Grapevine. I had no choice. I had to walk all the way from our house on Kilbourne to basically the intersection of Rosewood and Garners Ferry...in my bare feet. OUCH! I did stop some strangers and asked to use their phone. I called the only person whose number I have memorized- Ashley. Of course, she didn't answer. I left a message asking her to PLEASE call Amber and tell her the situation. After I got off the phone, I realized there was NO WAY Amber would have her phone near her. I walked all the way to Moe's Grapevine and banged on the locked door like a lunatic. I think the manager even referred to me as a dumb@%%. Oh well. Got the keys and Amber was kind enough to drive me home.
Geeze. Why do these things always seem to happen to me? Who knows.
Off to watch the game.
Good Luck, Cocks. Don't break our hearts.
This afternoon, I decided to take out the trash as Amber was leaving for work. I followed her out the door not knowing she had locked it. That is right. Before I knew I was locked out, she was well on her way to Moe's Grapevine. I had no choice. I had to walk all the way from our house on Kilbourne to basically the intersection of Rosewood and Garners Ferry...in my bare feet. OUCH! I did stop some strangers and asked to use their phone. I called the only person whose number I have memorized- Ashley. Of course, she didn't answer. I left a message asking her to PLEASE call Amber and tell her the situation. After I got off the phone, I realized there was NO WAY Amber would have her phone near her. I walked all the way to Moe's Grapevine and banged on the locked door like a lunatic. I think the manager even referred to me as a dumb@%%. Oh well. Got the keys and Amber was kind enough to drive me home.
Geeze. Why do these things always seem to happen to me? Who knows.
Off to watch the game.
Good Luck, Cocks. Don't break our hearts.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
One is the lonliest number...
I generally enjoy being single. I like having my money (what little of it I have), my time, my schedule,my, my, my,my.... Perhaps I am typically a happy single because I am selfish. Being single is a safe place for me. I don't have to worry about rejection because I already know how absolutely horrible I am...in stark contrast to actually having to trust that someone else could possibly extend the same grace towards me as the Saviour already has. Yet, I am hopeful that one day Love will find me.
There are few times I absolutely HATE being single. One such time occurred last week. As we all know, the holiday season is about to kick off. There has been buzz all around the office about vacation days and the what not. I happen to be the only single person in my office. The Credit Union President and Vice President have decided that since I have "no family," I will have to work the day after Thanksgiving and possibly the day after Christmas. They have decided to give the employees that have families, i.e. husbands and children, the days surrounding Thanksgiving and Christmas off. How is that not discriminatory? Just because I don't have a husband or kids doesn't mean I don't have a family. I do have a family. A family, which by the way, is out of town, who won't get to spend the Holidays with their daughter because...well, since she isn't married with children, doesn't deserve the days off. What a bunch of malarkey.
I usually avoid any sort of sermon about Singleness. However, the one I heard this past weekend wasn't so bad. Actually, it wasn't bad at all. I think it was good to be reminded that this stage of my life is truly a gift...and may continue to be this kind of gift for my remaining days of this life. And maybe that isn't so bad afterall. As long as I am not treated as some sort of disabled person.
p.s. this is how i know i am getting old: while riding my first ride at the fair, I was wishing it was over within the first 5 seconds. Highights: a decent tan, a sea lion show, delicious food and great company.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
22 days and counting...
This is a for real dilemma. What in the Sheol am I going to be for Halloween?
Ashley asked my mom for ideas and she suggested Queen Esther. Thanks, but no thanks, mom.
I was thinking of being an Asian Tourist. You know the ones I am referring to. They move in packs of 30 or more and are all shooting like the paparazzi… here-a-click, there-a-click, everywhere-a-click-click. They operate the picture apparatus with a lack of discretion only a woman with the sexual morality of a man would know... or so I suppose. I can hear their voices now: "Would you make our picture?" Right. Not "take," but "make". You have to love English being spoken as a second language. In fact, if it could be a love language, it would be mine. Let us not forget their brummagem attire: mickey mouse t-shirts, fanny packs, white athletic socks with sandals- you know the type. I love it.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Exhausted
I am so freaking tired. Yet, I don't feel as if I can complain of being tired. I am tired because, like I asked for, the LORD provided me with a second job. Working a full-time job, exercising daily, volunteering at church at least twice a week and now taking on an extra 10-15 hours of tutoring has me spending a total of maybe 9 hours a day at my house- 7 of which I am sleeping. I am holding out for the pay-off. But, seeing as I am going on my third cup of coffee this morning which is offering me no help as of yet, the reaping time seems forever away.
Despite my extremely low energy levels, I am realizing I am happier when I am doing something I love.
I want to be a teacher.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Teacher's Pet...I wanna be Teacher's pet...
Monday's mail brought a most unexpected surprise- and not a good one at that. My winter vacation to Winnipeg left more scars than the ones evidenced on my face from frostbite and a split lip. No, as if 9 hours of waiting in an emergency room just to be told frostbite is irreversible while my lip was stitched up wasn't enough of a waste of my time- I am just now feeling the effects of the true cost of my "medical care" 8 months later.
Medical care in Canada may be free for Canadians, but not Americans. I received a bill for fifty dollars shortly after returning from Canada. I should've known it was too good to be true. I paid it and never thought of it again. Until this past Monday. I received a letter saying I had a delinquent balance at St. Boniface Hospital and if I didn't pay it within 6 days they would turn me in to the Credit Bureau. Great. It is the worst feeling ever to be 26 years old and have to make a call to your parents for financial help. It is even sadder that I didn't have the $295.75 to pay the bill. It is not an astronomical amount, but none-the-less overwhelming for someone to receive who is as broke as I am(By the way, my dad is so nice. He paid the bill. Thank the good Lord for understanding parents).
In attempts to get out of debt, I have taken on a few tutoring gigs. Last night I met with the first of three clients I will be tutoring weekly. Her name is Shakeiva. I call her KeKe. She is in fifth grade and is at least 5 foot 6. Crazy. I was there for three hours last night. It made me miss teaching but grateful that if I have to work a second job, at least it is doing something I love. I have to admit I feel a little rusty. I felt on top of my game for History, Reading and Vocabulary- but then she pulled out a math sheet. I need to review angles. I remember a straight line is 180 and a circle is 360 and a right angle is 90...but I had to dig deep in the archives of my mind to recall the degrees in an acute and obtuse angle. We had a good time. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights are now devoted to tutoring. Bring on the dough.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
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