About Me

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Richmond, Virginia, United States
Will be in school forever. Done trying to be a Wendy.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Recipe: The Perfect Breakfast

Start with one day spent with a BFF, v.BBQ chicken tacos for dinner, and four hours of pumpin' and dancin'.

Add eight hours of sleep.
Add one white bathrobe and a splash of water on your face. (Glasses removal optional.)

In a separate room, mix one can of Orange Juice concentrate with water in your favorite vintage carafe. Put five cups of medium roast coffee in your friend, Mr. Coffee. Toast one everything bagel and spread Tofutti cream cheese atop.

In a separate room, add AIM gossip from a Vincelli sister, one glass of ice water, and one small yet well-fed grey cat.

Total time: 25 minutes. If you don't have work, this process can be drawn out up to two hours.

Listening to: Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin

Saturday, February 27, 2010

"but orca is supposed to be my favorite whale"

Orca, orca!

moats and boats and pay phone calls/bb kiddo snugglefest twentyten

Most favorite album of the moment: Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros "Up From Below"

I'm kind of sick of becoming interested in wishy washy or flaky people. I know I frequently employ these qualities myself, and I know these qualities are only found in people that I won't work out with, but oh, on cold nights how easy it is! Parties, Chuck Shaw and my mid-twenties!

(I'm equally annoyed by and perhaps jealous of the overly certain.)


Monday, February 22, 2010

oh i wish it would raaaain oooh hoo

Resolution: Start writing the date I open jars, cans, and tubs of food on the lids.

Also, I love icebreaker messages like this "I'm in love with yoooooooooooooo"
(Thanks Brandon vE, but did you break edge or fall on your head?!)

Also, having a well-timed drip in my apartment is something like having a grandfather clock. (Honestly it just sounds vulgar.)

Also, Long Island Iced Teas are Big Trouble when listed as a drink special.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

F'n Friday, S'n Saturday!

It sucks when "an early night" turns out to be 12:30am. My little bee is waiting for me at the tuck in the covers, and now because I'm taking too long she's biting my ponytail. So much for typing things I'll delete in the morning.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Johnny Weir!

I love you! Men's figure skating really has been a delight this year. The personalities, the attitude! The sequins, the glitter, the velvet, the lack of seperation between pants and shoes! It is truly a different world on ice!

P.S. "Skeleton Boy" performs next!

Monday, February 15, 2010

hey guys, remember these?

(That one wasn't mine!)

my romantic grandpa

It's been a week and a half now that I found my Grandfather dead in his home. I was coincidentally up in Northern Virginia for a lecture when my mom and I stopped by his house to bring him flowers. He was face down in the doorway to his bedroom. His dinner plate was in the sink and the television was on; he was just on his way to the bathroom when he died the night before. I felt his back and was able to remain composed for upwards of an hour to take care of my mom. There was an unopened box of kleenex sitting on the bed waiting for us.

Since my Grammy (Alma) died in 2006, his motivation and health have gone downhill. Before she died, he was still getting up on the roof (at 86!) and so on, but since then apart from having friends to the house and spending a lot of time with my folks, he's simply been waiting to reunite with her. The last few times I visited with him he's cried and it's broken my heart to know how lost he felt without her and that all he could do was wait. The last month he had been seeing her around the house, and told his friend Bo the week of his death that "when they find me, tell them to not be sad, because I will really be happy". Dying quickly at home is the way to go, and few people are afforded that luxury. I'm sad not for him, but for myself, his relatives, and my mom who is now going to have to deal with 1. not having any parents and 2. going through his house that he built with his two hands for my grandma and putting it on the market. Talking on the phone with her the other night she indicated she'd like to have the house cleared by August. It is mostly the house that I cry for. That sounds silly, but I'm sure some of you can relate.

I'm very fortunate to have had them to take care of me when my parents were working, and to show me that unconditional love and affection does not only exist, but can and should remain passionate and exciting throughout the years. It makes me feel better about my single life, because I know if I can find someone who looks at me the way they looked at each other, treats me the way they treated each other, and can make me laugh the way they were always carrying on, well then I have a pretty good chance of having my ass squeezed at family functions when I'm 85 years old.

In the aftermath, I feel very disorganized. I've been putting off dealing with it apart from a few key conversations (thank you), but I know in a few weeks I have to go up and start helping my mom prepare the house for a memorial service we'll be having in April. We're going to light up his house and play records and utilize the basement bar one last time. That's all I really can say about that right now. Back to Foucault and other shit I'm having trouble concentrating on.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


“The computer, unlike a text, is built for action; it sits there humming, waiting, demanding that you punch some key or click some button. It is distracting, perpetually promising something more interesting than your own unfocused thoughts or the words currently before you on the screen."

Sunday, February 7, 2010

if you hold me up, i will hold you up

I'm ridiculously good at not dealing with things.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

stress chest!

Listening to: The Lawrence Arms, Oh! Calcutta!

either way i'm going to feel like shit tomorrow

Late night reading McSweeney's and watching clips from Ken Robinson lectures. He makes dad jokes, you know I like that. I feel like I keep repeating myself. Because I am.

0. Six discussion board threads.

1. Two-three page paper:

Five categories of instructional strategies and explanation of these five categories can be found within this site. The following link provides information on strategies and methods
First go to the link below and review the various strategies and methods.
In each strategy there are examples of various method.
Based on the reading from our texts which method or methods in each strategy best fits today's learner and why?
Make your own order of teaching method priority related today's learner for instance is Direct Instruction at the top and Interactive at the bottom of the scale?

2.One page paper on what type of learner I am and whether I think students in five years will be successful at that type of learning. Am I supposed to say no? I could certainly write more.

Not related.

Have I become a more or less honest person? I would say generally I am very honest, but I also have a desire to spare feelings and preserve some silent dignity, which means I am often times not honest about my desires and emotions. So...morally yes? Socially no? I've been spending a few minutes of each day going through mid-20s topics I'm supposed to enjoy discussing. Like:

Should I stay in Richmond or move?
Do I have a rambling bone?
Do I want to be a morning person?
Know two stories of past accomplishments with the following keywords: shots, sex, literature, foreign, the next morning, film, volunteer, tour, so stoked, tiny show, Jolt soda
Have I grown up? Is it ok to be a different age for each season?
Which of life's secrets have I unlocked? (The answer of this never actually matters. It should probably involve some of the above keywords.)
Do I yearn for the American dream or have I rejected that as an absurdly dated ideal?

What questions did I ask of myself on the cusp of turning twenty? What questions did you ask yourself? What do these things matter but to our personal histories and as procrastination aids? Rather than moving forward with a sense of real purpose, are we acting on desire of our make-believe futures? Is that all everyone ever does? Is that the same thing?

Listening to: William Elliot Whitmore, "Diggin' My Grave"