The job fair made me feel totally unhirable. Most reps saw that I did not have my certification yet, and they stopped talking to me. It was a real waste of my time. I spent most of the day filling out countless applications, all of which served to tell me that I am underqualified. Frustrating when I know that I can do the job.
Bleh.
I'm at Connally tomorrow. I have to ask the teacher for a rec, but I'm nervous since I haven't really done anything yet. It's so strange to be in someone else's classroom. MOst of the time I am a little lost.
I'm in too pissy of a mood to try to be amusing or clever.
Most of my stuff is already at the house. I"m back to living like a college kid--I even have Yaffa blocks as my night stand and a tin box for a tv stand. I should be eating tv dinners or something. Kegger at my place. . .

Going to a job fair this morning, gotta beg people to hire me. I'll bring knee pads, because I'm not above kissing feet. I need a job for the fall. I simply cannot do the whole student teaching thing. I'm in enough of a bind moneywise without working 5 months for free. When I look at my bank account, I laugh. Then cry. Then laugh again.
Because I'm half moved in with Eric, getting dressed for the job fair is going to be an ordeal. I have my suit here, my shoes there, and no pantyhose in either location. I will have to run to HEB as well. Just thinking about it makes me rather panicky. I hate buying stockings. They make my skin crawl.
I just sprayed my resumes with a lovely lavendar mist. I feel so Legally Blonde, but whatever it takes. If I had pink paper, I might even consider it.
Sad.

Home again. I will be very glad when I move in with Eric;the sight of my apartment these days makes me ill.
I shold be working on lesson plans for R+J, but it's rainy. I have such lethargy in this type of weather. Also, if I'm home all day, I need to pace myself and not waste all of the activity in a concentrated time. How sad is that? I ration my chores.
I have become a very boring person. Maybe I'll get the newspaper and sit in my apartment clipping coupons. I really need to get myself a track suit if I do that.

I've become completely obsessed with my dead Elvis book. It's quite fabulous. I'm such a sucker for the consciously post-modern. When I was writing my master's thesis, my friend *J* once told me I was a post-modern detective. I thought it was the hugest compliment. All my personality tests on Emode say I was meant to be a detective. Sadly even teaching pays more than gumshoe work. Still, I like the idea of sitting in a dingy office, waiting for a handsome stranger in a trench coat to walk in, desperately needing information on 19th century store catalogues or Herman Melville, or even to enlist me for the lastest Elvis sighting. All I need is a finger print kit and a library card, and I'm good to go.

Had a lovely bridal shower this weekend, it actually made the hell of last week a little better. Thank you to everyone, it was just what I needed to get me back in wedding mood.
As I left the house last night to return to my apartment, I was freaked out to realize that I am moving in 2 weeks. Sometimes I am amazed at the surreality of it all.
I'm teaching Spanish this afternoon, that should be interesting. Senorita Kasten and all.
I saw 2 movies this weekend, one great and the other good. The great one was Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, and the good one was Starsky and Hutch. I missed the zombies, but they might be calling my name later in the week. Lately I've felt like somehting has sucked my brain, so I"ll probably related. Everyone's bitching that zombies can't run, who cares?
If I was a zombie, I'd run like hell.

My grandfather's bathroom is the epicenter of psychic vampirism. It just sucks my will to do anything. In fact, the whole town of Fort Dodge is damaging. It's like joy has no home there. I'm sure I'm reacting to my grandfather's house adn situation. There are probably lovely, educated people in that town who have book clubs, eat interesting and exotic meals and would be wonderful companions. I just have never seen these illusive denizens. What I see there is old and dying. I see fleets of 1980 Cutlass Supremes with rusted out bottoms. I see bars and graveyards. I see a town where you can get all the coleslaw you want and not much else. It is so hard to be there.
When we arrived, grandpa had just been taken to the hospital--kidney failure again. He doesn't want this. We sprung him from the hospital where they were basically just giving him fluids, and we arranged for hospice care at home. It's pretty unbelievably sad. He's difficult, cranky and stubborn, but he's also one of the most amazing people. I've never met anyone funnier or quick on the uptake. For years he told me that during WWII he chased bunnies. I wish that we had collected his tall tales becaues they were an art form to him. That's the worst part. . . he can't focus long enough to tell stories anymore. The last trip to the hospital took a lot out of him.
We now wait for the other shoe to drop.
After such a week, I want a night of stupid joy, so I might see Brave Combo. They're the loveliest polka band ever.
I didn't get much reading done this week, but I did check out The King is Dead which is this amazing collection of short stories about the dead Elvis. It's very post modern and good fun. It has people like Lou Reed, Clive Barker, Joe Lansdale, and Joyce Carol Oates. I need to get more fun stuff like that on my bookshelf. I'm a little wearied of the Booker Prize winners. NO MORE GLOOM.
My lovely friend E. is throwing a bridal shower tomorrow. It should melt the last of the Iowa ennui.

I hate fighting with people when I don't even really know why I am upset. It's so frustrating to have all of the emotions without the logic to back me up. My mind tells me to let go, and my heart is holding on. It makes me scream.
I took out my aggression at the gym, though. I love the way exercise makes me forget everything except the pain of one more lat pull down. For those of you keeping track, yes, my pulled breast still hurts.
I've been reading Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare was such a dirty birdy. I was tryng to get the 7th graders to get all of the filthy jokes, but they were having none of it. I just hope they don't tell their parents. Do you thumb your nose at me? I should start insulting people only in SHakespearean language. Never let it be said that my education has been wasted.
I leave for Iowa on Saturday, and I'd really rather shovel kitty litter. Every time I swear I will maintain my good mood, and every time I come home depressed. I need to focus on what a cool man he was. I love his favorite saying "If you can't dazzle them with brillance, baffle them with bullshit." Words to live by.
I"m off my game today. . . maybe tomorrow I'll find my mojo.

Maturity is so overrated.
I had a lovely 7th grade caliber lunch with Seth and Alejandro. It's hard to believe we're over 13. The best part was annoying the beautiful people. As Seth said, "I'd like to break the hips of the tragically hip."
The 9th graders I returned to after lunch were decidedly more mature. I even caught a group of boys playing with farting goo in the hallway. Lovely.
I am still nursing my tragic groin pull--the result of an unfortunate bowling injury. I thought I was the Big Lebowski, but apparently I was mistaken.
Tonight is Eric's darts night, so I have the whole lovely evening to myself. I am supposed to be writing a lesson plan for Romeo and Juliet, but I know I will be watching Law and Order. The show is my delicious pleasure. I've always had a thing for old men, and Sam Watterson fascinates me.
I like to say that I am searching for purpose and meaning, but what I'm really doing is sitting at my desk speading red glitter on an old cowboy hat. I must pull it together.

I spent my morning at Connally. Most people hate freshmen, but I find them pretty wonderful. We did To Kill a Mockingbird--and they dig the story pretty well. I just wish I felt like I had a place in the classroom. It's weird intruding on someone else's class.
I just finished A Spell of Winter by Helen Dunmore which was pretty amazing if disturbing. It made me think a lot about lonliness. Most of my problems in the past have been based on vast lonliness, but I'm just not lonely any more. Anyway, if you can handle a little incest and madness, it's a fantastic read. People have compared it to Jane Eyre, which I can see to some extent. It's just vastly more disturbing. I might say it's more like Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys.
For class I also just read a Teen novel called Speak by Laurie Anderson which was a brillant description of depression in high school. I think anyone who went to high school should check the book out.
I'm off to meet the lovely Seth and Alex for lunch. . . the thought of omlets makes me drool a little.

I"m just working in the afternoon today, so I've had this lovely morning. I even took a bubble bath. .. of course this normally relaxing experience was marred by the fact that I was reading an educational pedagogy article. Bubbles and "Understand Cultural Diversity and Learning" do not go well together. Sometimes I find all these articles complete crap. This one basically said that all ethnic groups studied all liked all major learning styles. That was very infomative.
I'm teaching middle school this afternoon, my favorite kids. In the Health class, though, we're doing sex ed. Lord help me get through this.
I have gardener's injuries today--damn I'm getting old and scarily domesticated.

Eric just set up a blog site for me, so I can now join the wonderfully self-referential masses. Life is good.
We had his birthday last night--what else would a 35 year old to but play ski ball and video games? Childhood is much better as an adult. I still have yet to win a game of air hockey; it's become this quixotic goal. I will go down, paddle in hand, however.
I just finished reading Naked by David Sedaris. He is faboo. I was sitting in the teacher's lounge at Connally trying to keep the milk from coming out of my nose cause I was laughing so hard. Reminds me of that trip to Iowa. . .
I have been promised a McGriddle for breakfast. They're better than drugs. I must claim my sweet and salty goodness.