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Jun. 24th, 2006 @ 01:20 pm buttery birthday
Hi all--

If you have not gotten books you requested from me at the last two dance classes, I will be at Buttery Birthday in the late afternoon/early evening today. I will also be at dance class next Wednesday. If neither of these days work for you, write me a response here on LJ or email me with your contact info. I will be in touch within the next few days to arrange something. If I have not heard from you by Wednesday and you do not come to dance class, I will be giving them away to whoever shows up and wants them, as I will be officially moving out of my apartment next weekend.

The exception to this rule is Sara Ravid, who is unlikely to be either at the Buttery or at dance class: I will be in touch towards the end of the weekend, Sara.

I will also try to post an updated version of the list on Sunday, taking out items that have already been claimed and perhaps adding in a few more at the last minute (ex. anybody interested in VHS copies of Willow or Labyrinth?).

Thanks for all your help,
Agnes
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Jun. 13th, 2006 @ 08:30 pm Book and video list
So my roommate and I are moving at the end of the month and are doing a bit of clean-up around the apartment. We have compiled a list of books and videos we haven't read or watched in a good long while and we would like to give them away. So, of course, our friends ought to get first dibs.

If you see anything in the following list that tickles your fancy, shoot me an email at shana.heller@simmons.edu. I can bring items to Wednesday night dance classes or arrange another time and place to meet up. And if you have any questions about a particular item feel free to call me at 617 277 3056. So without further ado:

BOOKS

1. 2 children’s books about Abraham Lincoln
2. children’s book about Ben Franklin
3. children’s book about Thomas Edison
4. Practical English textbooks and workbooks
5. The Color of Magic—Terry Pratchett
6. The Perilous Gard—Elizabeth Marie Pope
7. Cold Comfort Farm—Stella Gibbons
8. Mutant Message Down Under—Marlo Morgan
9. The Dark is Rising Cycle (5 books)—Susan Cooper
10. Outlander—Diana Gabaldon
11. The Princess and the Goblin—George MacDonald (2 copies)
12. The Princess and Curdie—George MacDonald (2 copies)
13. The Sword and the Dragon—Diane Duane
14. Small Victories—Samuel G. Freedman
15. The Fountainhead—Ayn Rand
16. The History of Sexuality—Michel Foucault
17. Angela’s Ashes—Frank McCourt
18. The Ladies’ Auxiliary—Tova Mirvis
19. Emily of New Moon—L.M. Montgomery
20. Emily Climbs—L.M. Montgomery
21. Emily’s Quest—L.M. Montgomery
22. A Place for Joey—C. Harris
23. Naked Pictures of Famous People—Jon Stewart
24. A Room with a View—E.M. Forster
25. The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes—A.C. Doyle
26. Fiction in the Archives—Davis
27. From Reliable Sources: An Introduction to Historical Methods—Howell and Prevnier
28. The Persistence of History—Sobchack
29. Visions of the Past—Rosenstone
30. Public Vows—Cott
31. American Diplomacy—Ferrell
32. Contemporary Europe: A History—Hughes
33. A Diplomatic History of the American People
34. The National Experience
35. Great Expectations—Charles Dickens
36. Rob Roy—Sir Walter Scott
37. The Picture of Dorian Gray and other writings—Oscar Wilde
38. Bananas, Beaches, and Bases
39. Blues Legacies and Black Feminism
40. Inheriting the Revolution
41. The Use and Abuse of History—F. Nietzsche
42. People of the Century (Time/CBS News)
43. children’s book about Leonardo da Vinci
44. Human Motivation—Franken
45. Psychology Dictionary
46. Pioneers of Psychology
47. The Handmaid’s Tale—Margaret Atwood
48. Sophie’s World—Gaarder (2 copies)
49. Homer’s Daughter—Robert Graves
50. Black Dogs—Ian McEwan
51. The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman—Gaines
52. George Washington’s War—Leckie
53. None Died in Vain—Leckie
54. Women’s Magazines—Walker (ed.)
55. 6 Women’s Portrait Cards—J. S. Sargent
56. John Winthrop, Oliver Cromwell, and the Land of Promise
57. The Weaker Vessel—A. Fraser
58. Sources of 20th Century Europe
59. The Human Record, Volumes I and II
60. The Earth and its Peoples
61. A History of World Societies
62. The End of the European Era
63. Barricades and Borders
64. The Tools of Empire
65. The good city
66. Readings in Western Civilization
67. Stalin—Deutscher
68. Modern Europe: Sources and Perspectives from History
69. Hitler, A Study in Tyranny
70. An American Death—G. Frank
71. Ivanhoe—Sir Walter Scott
72. Thomas Jefferson, An Intimate History
73. The Guns of August—Barbara Tuchman
74. Where the Girls Are
75. Across Five Aprils—Hunt
76. April Morning—Fast
77. The Shoes of the Fisherman—West
78. Amsterdam: The Life of a City
79. 2003: Writer’s Market
80. It’s a Hit! The Backstage Book of Longest-Running Broadway Shows
81. The Trivia Encyclopedia
82. Grants, Fellowships, and Prizes of Interest to Historians, 2000-2001
83. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity: Exploring the French Revolution (missing the CD that originally came with it)
84. Readings in Western Civilization
85. East Asia at the Center
86. The Witchcraft of Salem Village (children’s book)
87. May ’68 and its Afterlives—Ross
88. children’s book about Joan of Arc
89. children’s book about Cleopatra
90. The year’s Best Fantasy (2nd annual)
91. Memoirs of a Geisha—Arthur Golden
92. Can Jane Eyre be Happy?—Sutherland
93. Leonardo/Raphael
94. Elvenborn—Andre Norton and Mercedes Lackey
95. Shadowmancer—G.P. Taylor
96. The Children of the New Forest
97. The Water Babies
98. At the Back of the North Wind
99. Time and Again—Finney
100. Writers of the Future
101. Power Lines—Anne McCaffrey
102. Power Play—Anne McCaffrey
103. Sun-Runner’s Fire
104. Dinotopia Lost
105. Shakespeare’s Scribe—Blackwood
106. The Shakespeare Stealer—Blackwood
107. I, Robot—Isaac Asimov
108. Robot Dreams—Asimov
109. Gold—Asimov
110. The Caves of Steel—Asimov
111. The Naked Sun—Asimov
112. The Martian Chronicles—Ray Bradbury
113. 1984—George Orwell
114. Neuromancer—Gibson
115. The Ancient One—Barron
116. The Salmon of Doubt—Douglas Adams
117. 40 Short Stories, A Portable Anthology
118. The Year 1000
119. Jane Austen’s Guide to Dating
120. A Lady Raised High—Gardner
121. The Black Tulip—Dumas
122. La Reine Margot—Dumas
123. Get Off the Unicorn—Anne McCaffrey
124. The Dolphins of Pern—Anne McCaffrey
125. The Weyrs of Pern—McCaffrey
126. The Renegades of Pern—McCaffrey
127. The White Dragon—McCaffrey
128. The Masterharper of Pern—McCaffrey
129. Nerilka’s Story—McCaffrey
130. Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern—McCaffrey
131. The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall—McCaffrey
132. The House of Dies Drear—Virginia Hamilton
133. The Organic Machine—R. White
134. Jovah’s Angel—Sharon Shinn
135. The Alleluia Files—Sharon Shinn
136. Deerskin—Robin McKinley
137. The Mallorean (5 books)—David Eddings


MOVIES (VHS)

1. The Accidental Tourist
2. By Way of the Stars
3. Follow the Stars Home
4. Loser
5. Pride and Prejudice (Olivier and Garson version)
6. Some Kind of Wonderful
7. Tales From Avonlea
8. Ninotchka
9. The Parent Trap (Haley Mills version)
10. The Black Cauldron
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Apr. 20th, 2005 @ 01:17 pm Check these out...
I know I haven't updated in a frighteningly long time and that's not very likely to change any time soon, but in the meanwhile, here are some websites that I think some of you would appreciate:

The ONE Campaign (www.one.org)-- "The ONE Campaign is a new effort to rally Americans to fight the emergency of global AIDS and extreme poverty. Each ONE of us can make a difference. Together as ONE we can change the world." Go to the site, sign their petition, email your friends. If the folks in charge won't do anything about it, we certainly can.

This is Not Over (www.thisisnotover.com)-- If you are at all unhappy with the current administration (and I sense some of you are) or the general scary trend some current events have been taking lately, check out this website. Started by the sharply clever Sarah Bunting of TomatoNation-- (www.tomatonation.com--absolutely fantastic essays)--and other equally talented writers, This is Not Over searches the Internet for any and all pertinent articles about what's going on in our world that we ought to know about but doesn't always make the nightly news. They also provide email addresses, phone numbers, and petitions so no one has to go silent.

The National Women's History Project (www.nwhp.org)-- The founders of this site are the blood and guts behind the formation of March as National Women's History Month. For educators especially, the biographies they provide about underrecognized women are a wonderful resource.

And just for fun:

Go Fug Yourself (gofugyourself.typepad.com)-- Ever wonder how celebrities can get away with setting the most god-awful trends when you know you could look ten times better in that outfit you got on sale at Marshall's? Writers Heather and Jessica wonder that too. And boy do they have vicious fun cutting down our pop culture idols to mortal size.


Enjoy, everybody! I'll be back someday. :)
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Oct. 18th, 2004 @ 11:16 pm Take Me Out
Current Mood: frustrated
Current Music: "Ghost"--The Indigo Girls
I was all set to write a nice entry about baseball. I was at the game tonight--very exciting. The seats were phenomenal, right near the visitors' dugout. I was with my family, I had a foot-long hot dog, and I was happy. I was going to write about how I never get over walking into Fenway Park, climbing up that incline and seeing that great expanse of field, the crowded seats, that magnificent left-field wall. I was going to write about dancing in between innings when they play "Sweet Caroline," the thrill of watching the twist of power in a hitter's arms and back and then the great soaring arc of that small orb that everyone pins their hopes on. I was going to write about how proud I am of Red Sox history: how the last player in all of major league baseball to hit over .400 in a season was our very own Ted Williams, how the last player to win the Triple Crown was our man Yaz.

And then the game just kept going on and on and on. It started at five-ten and I hoped to be home at a decent hour, to finally write a new entry, to take a long hot shower and drink a mug of steaming tea, and go to bed at an hour that would guarantee me more sleep than I've been getting lately. Instead, I've been home for almost half an hour and I'm still not completely warm. I'm exhausted, certain in the knowledge that I'm going to be late for work again tomorrow because I can't ever seem to sleep enough. I left at the bottom of the thirteenth inning, after swearing I'd leave after the eleventh and then the twelfth and bursting into tears several times. My dad just called to tell me they won in the bottom of the fourteenth and I'm not sure I can expend the effort to get excited or really even give a damn. They have to win the next two anyway if they're going to progress further and meanwhile the Patriots have won an historic twenty games in a row and everyone just brushes it off.

I don't know how I'm going to feel in the morning but right now I think I'm over all of it. I'm over Aaron Boone and his homer last year, I'm over Rocket Roger and his betrayal, I'm over Bill Buckner and the '86 World Series, I'm over Bucky F-ing Dent, I'm over '67 and '75 and I am very very over Babe Ruth. There is no curse on the Boston Red Sox; things just are the way they are. Whether they won or lost tonight, whether they win or lose the next two games, even whether or not they win the Series, I still have a full day of work tomorrow. I still have a room to clean and laundry to wash and a to-do list almost as tall as I am. I am so so tired, tired in general and tired of the Red Sox-Yankees rivalry. I will never like the Yankees and I will always hope they lose. But I can't condone the stupid T-shirts that we sell, that get stupider as time goes by: Yankees Suck, Jeter Swallows, Jeter Swallows A-Rod, A-Rod is an A-hole, Posada is a Little Bitch. This is not the game I want to share with my children someday.

I don't care about the unspoken rules of crowding the plate; I can never be happy that an entire stadium full of people burst out cheering when Hideki Matsui has to bend over backwards to get out of the way of a pitch. Does no one remember Tony Conigliaro? I don't care that you didn't like the call that umpire made: continuing to yell at and threaten him twenty minutes after the call is childish. I don't care that this is your time to "be loose" and "have fun:" you are sitting in front of me and you are disgustingly drunk. You yell obscene, useless things at the opposing players, you give the finger, you stand on your chair. Quite frankly, I don't know how you are standing up on your own anymore. As the night gets later and the game stretches longer, my patience grows thinner and I contemplate homicide. What if I poured your beer on you? What if I pushed you into the Yankees' dugout? What if I gave you a right hook instead of the sloppy high-five you are looking for?

I should be on an emotional high right now. It was a tight game, the Sox led and then fell behind and then came back up and then took over at the last possible minute. They are keeping themselves alive against monstrous odds. These are my boys; I have loved them forever, I have alternately wanted to be them and to marry them. I should not be able to sleep right now--I should be bouncing off the walls. Instead, I want to tear things apart, I want to weep with abandon, I want to sleep forever, I want to curl up with a book and not speak to anyone ever again.

This will go away, right? Baseball will be my favorite sport again, the Red Sox will rule my summer, and I'll be proud to call myself a Bostonian. But first I need to sleep off my rage--in my head I'm alredy waiting for next year and the year after that and the year after that and the year after that...
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Sep. 21st, 2004 @ 10:49 pm The dreams in which I'm dying
Current Mood: drained
Current Music: the actual sound of silence
Real life update in bullet points:

* After spending four years preparing for the graduate year that would propel me into the classroom with my masters' degree in hand, I'm taking a leave of absence to contemplate the flunking of my summer courses.

* After wondering for over a decade why I cannot get organized or finish things on time or stop prostinating or concentrate on the important things or prioritize my life properly, I've been diagnosed with inattentive attention deficit disorder.

* After years of being uneasy with the idea of alcohol and prescription drugs due to my fear of addiction and dependence, I'm about to begin taking two different forms of prescription stimulants, drugs that will activate my moivation, change my work habits, and suffocate my appetite. The likelihood of a lifelong dependence upon these pills seems imminent.

* After spending five weeks attempting to get a job with the Bostoninan Society, finally obtaining it, and then getting promoted to keyholder, I have quit in order to run the learning center at the English High School. After casually suggesting to my boss that I could help with tutor placement in the classrooms, he handed the extra responsibility over to me without asking.

* After promising myself that I would go to sleep early, it is 11 pm, I have not finished sending out my work-related emails, my bed is a mess, I've not washed the dishes or cleaned the living room or showered, and I must must must be up at 5 am tomorrow and still be awake and professional enough to conduct four interviews.
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Apr. 26th, 2004 @ 01:18 am And April is the cruelest month
Current Mood: apathetic
Current Music: late night thoughts in a minor key
While I fully intend to elucidate more thoroughly upon the meanderings of my last post and the commentary it generated, now is not the time for that. Now is the time to focus completely on academia, on my students, on job and grad school applications, on apartment hunting and graduation invitations and my father's wedding gift, on buying my cap and gown, on attending the senior-faculty banquet, on wondering where the hell my mother is, on applying for fall classes and figuring out why I haven't been placed in my internship yet. Now is not the time to wonder why my heart is both lead and feather within my chest and why my head is full of visions of a picket-fenced future on the one hand and a lonely existence on the other.
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Apr. 14th, 2004 @ 03:16 am Just beginning to live
Current Mood: confused
Current Music: Four A.M. silence
Procrastinating leads to pontificating and, as this is a topic upon which I have pondered a lot lately, (and also because I'm having issues writing my World Civ paper), here I go...

So in that whole "My First..." meme, I answered the question of my first true love with the name of my current one. This is both true and not true at the same time. I love my boyfriend with a depth which I am not yet comfortable plumbing completely. But if you want to get technical, the very very first time I fell in love was at the age of fourteen. His name was Cassiodoran, he was unbearably good-looking, and he was an elf prince in a disappointingly mediocre Esther Friesner book that I snuck out of my high school library.

Cass was brash, cocky, infuriatingly pig-headed, and downright cruel at times. Serious bad boy aura--not my type at all. I was absolutely mad for him. I thought his sarcasm was witty, I felt sure he was really very vulnerable under all that surliness, blah-blah-blah bad romance cliche cakes.

Eventually he lost his appeal. Someone new came along. There was always someone new, considering how much of my free time was spent reading. There was George Cooper, king of the thieves and baron of Pirates' Swoop. Eliar, the hunchbacked lute player with the "tortured soul." Mendenbar, king of the Enchanted Forest. And, inevitably, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy himself, who would certainly drop Elizabeth Bennet in a heartbeat if he knew of my existence.

And therein lies the point. He doesn't know of my existence because he has none of his own. (Unless you get kind of existenstial here, but I am firmly against existensialism. :)) None of these men really exist. None of the clever things they say or the romantic things they do or the happy endings they achieve are real. And for someone who has spent so much of her life with a book in one hand, it gets easy to forget that.

I wonder what really qualifies as a happy ending. What does a person have to do to prove that love is really what it is? How can you recognize love in someone else? Is it based in actions? In words? Is proof necessary? I took naturally to happy endings as a child, I assume, because of my parents' divorce. But I've long since substituted my desire for palaces and dancing halls with a desire for stability and safety in my future. I've had a harder time with the other questions though.

The books I've read have taught me to believe that love is this massive, demonstrative emotion. I half expected someone to start calling me "dearest, loveliest Agnes" and credit me with changing the way they view the whole world. I know I expected constant declarations of affection, maybe even sweeping romantic gestures. I live in a world of words; it's where I am most comfortable--reading, writing, expressing myself. I live there because no matter how many different things a word can mean, once it is said or written it is out there. (What's that Emily Dickinson poem again? "A word is dead when it is said, some say; I say it just begins to live that day.") It is out there and it cannot be denied in its existence, its defiance, even; it is not subtle and I am not a subtle person. The love I read about in books is huge, monstrous, undeniable, unstoppable in its force--it will be heard no matter what, it will be declared in words loud and clear and in gestures large and obvious. I'm beginning to think they fudged the truth a bit.

Maybe love really is a subtle force. Sneaks up, lurks quietly in the corners of your mind, always there. Maybe it soothes--and hurts--the most in its smallest gestures. And what about on my side of it all? Wasn't I supposed to hear bells and horns? Didn't the books say I would be overwhelmed, swept off my feet, struck by the realization of love, consumed by it at all times? But I don't feel consumed--content, yes, but not consumed. How can I know that I'm right? Not one of my immediate relatives is still on their first marriage. I can't fathom being mistaken in that manner. Which goes back to the stability thing. Which means I'm rambling, damn it...

I'm sure I'll figure it out as I go along. But it's sad to know that the books on which I relied so greatly to fill the loneliness I often felt, even amongst large groups of my peers, only separated me from reality all the more. Back to the history paper now I suppose.
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Mar. 4th, 2004 @ 11:21 am All my burning bridges
Current Mood: enraged
Current Music: Dorothy Parker's Hymns of Hate--every last one of them
The next person who asks for anything from me--and I do mean anything--is going to get their head bitten off and mounted on my wall. Just "finished" my political science midterm. I screwed up so badly at the beginning that I had to START OVER halfway through the time limit. I ended up having to write my enire second essay in outline form just to show him that I knew all the information before he kicked me out of the classroom. I now have to go write a paper for that same professor. i better do really well on it to balance out this midterm or am i absolutely blown out of the water grade-wise.

I have a three hour class today, a ten minute dinner break, and the honors seminar from hell. I have another midterm and the poli sci paper due tomorrow. I have a week to write four lesson plans and get together field trip forms. I have a wedding shower to plan and a scrapbook that I am supposed to be working on except that none of my relatives will send me pictures for it. I have a map-painting session in the basement of my dorm on Sunday after I have worked all morning with the world's worst-behaved nine-year-old and NO ONE is showing up for it. I have an education portfolio that consists of a pile of papers, a checkbook that hasn't been balanced in eight months, a resume to write before I can begin interviews for my internship, summer classes to apply for, and a dual degree program to create from scratch. Last night, I tried to do two things at once and screwed up at both of them. I'm done, done, done with feeling guilty about things and being walked on and talked into things. The focus is going on me for a change. I will fulfill all the responsibilities tht I have undertaken and then everyone will leave me the hell alone to graduate college and get into the classroom where i belong and really wish I was right now.

Suffice it to say I threw shoes last night.

And screamed.
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Mar. 3rd, 2004 @ 12:13 am Shall I creep or shall I fly?
Current Mood: tired
Current Music: the humming of my computer
The key to writing the perfect lesson plan is knowing that it doesn't exist. It can be a very good lesson plan--chock-full of knowledge, engaging for your students, approved of by the administration and the DoE, blah-blah-blah-effusive-praise-cakes. But it can always use tweaking: modifications for individual students, accomodations for recent current events, etc. And that is what I have to keep reminding myself. So that next time I'm writing one of these puppies, it hasn't taken me three weeks of personal agony.

Since procrastination and perfectionism are traits that I've been dubiously blessed with for over a decade, I thought I'd take a crack at this new meme. I fear i don't know how to cut a section so that you only read it if you won't. I'll just post this and if y'all'd rather not read it, skip to the end and send me a nasty comment. :) Besides, I appear to be making a habit of writing irritatingly long journal entries and then not updating for months...

March, 2004: Spring of my senior year of college. Taking five classes, working two jobs, "propping up" Lear, and attempting to create a dual masters' program at Simmons in which I can participate. Life is busy and stressful but blissfully full. My brother's a college freshman, my dad's getting married to a lovely woman in May, my friends are steady and silly (an excellent combo), and my relationship with my boyfriend of 16 months is as dizzingly, delightfully confusing as it's always been.

March, 2003: Recovering from a rather spectacular academic and emotional breakdown the previous fall. Having a blast in Midsummer's, my first play in almost three years. Acclimating my self to the SCA; getting used to being called Agnes. Four months with boyfriend and beginning to think I'm in love (know it now :)).

March, 2002: Almost halfway thru college. The world is shifting for me in tectonic ways: reminders of September 11th are everywhere, I've been to Israel on my very first far away trip from home by myself and fallen in love with it, and my dad has begun bringing home a very nice woman from work named Anne. I'm hoping she sticks around.

March, 2001: Have decided I really like living in Boston. My roommate is officially my best friend at school and we do absolutely everything together. As always, my side of the room looks like a bomb hit it. Every Wednesday night, Alie and I watch the West Wing with a devotion so true that our families know not to call while it's on. In addtion, I discover the addictive joys of fanfiction.

March, 2000: Spring of my senior year of high school. I receive more awards at class night than any of my fellow graduates; it does not induce me to want to stay in Sharon. I have the world's greatest A.P. English teacher and my writing has never been better. My drama club is practicing for the semi-finals of the local one act play competition. I harbor a not-so-secret crush on my friend Steve but am going to attend the prom with my friend Adam. We have decided to make as big an entrance as possible and so I am currently searching for a lace parasol. (Which I find the day of the prom!)

March, 1999: I begin the search for colleges. Intending to major in musical theater, I spend two months searching for the perfect school, only to discover I don't want what I thought I did. My dad and I go out for pizza and I tell him I want to be teacher. I have never regretted the decision. I am also preparing for my first advanced placement exam--.

March, 1998: Is there really a point to sophomore year? I didn't think so then and I don't think so now. I take junior Jason Moldoff to my semiformal dance; he flirts with me, holds my hand, sends charming grins in my direction, and then drops me like a brick for Jamie "wanna see my BMW" Kaufmann. Not that I'm still bitter or anything.

March, 1997: My grandmother has passed away the summer before. My mother, intending to move from New Hampshire back down to Massachusetts, decides to first visit her sister in Florida. Her visit becomes permanent and our relationship has been tenuous ever since. Freshman year drags on and on.

March, 1996: I have officially celebrated being Bat Mitzvah--daughter of the commandments--four months ago. I will not truly appreciate the meaning of it for at least another five years or so. I am participating in my very first musical, "Give My Regards to Broadway." It wants to be "42nd Street" with George M. Cohan; it falls rather short of the mark. The experience is thrilling nevertheless: I will join community theater that summer and will do two musicals every year until I graduate high school.

March, 1995: This is my first full year living with my dad. We have just moved into our new house in December after living with my grandparents for a few months. I have just hit puberty and neither my father nor I have any idea what to do about it. My aunt gets a lot of desperate phone calls from us. I develop a deep, obsessive crush on Craig Simons who goes to hebrew school with me and delivers my grandparents' newspaper.

March, 1994: My what change a decade wroughts. I am five months shy of 12 years old. I am living in Londonderry, New Hampshire, with my mom, stepdad, brother, and two stepbrothers. I am under the impression we will be moving to Nashua this summer. My friends are in the process of planning a surprise going away party for me. They accidentally drop a lot of hints; thankfully their lack of subtlty is in direct proportion to the thickness of my skull--I have no idea what's going on. I also have no idea how much my life is going to change in July. I have already begun to leave childhood behind--I get my first "D" on a report card--but I will never, ever be this innocent again. Ten years later, I'm still not sure how I feel about that.
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Nov. 18th, 2003 @ 09:06 pm First and Last Meme
This looked really fun. I don't exactly know what a meme is or even if I'm allowed to participate in one without asking someone's permission, but here it is. If I shouldn't have it up here, just someone please let me know and I'll take it down. Thanks! :P

FIRST REAL KISS: On stage in Guys and Dolls during my senior year of high school. I was Sarah and my friend and ex-boyfriend Ted was Sky. We had to kiss and then the script said I was supposed to slap him. So we did and I did and I made him bleed. Whoops?
FIRST KISS I ENJOYED: Also on stage, the summer following Guys and Dolls. I was in West Side Story and the guy who played Tony to my Maria was nine years my senior and absolutely gorgeous. His fiancee was apparently less enthused about the stage kissing than I was; she thought he was cheating on her (which he was but not with me--ah theater).
FIRST SCREEN NAME: Same then as now: agnescopperfield because I love Charles Dickens' semi-autobiographical novel. Incidentally that's why I leaned immediately towards Agnes when picking out an SCA name.
FIRST SELF-PURCHASED ALBUM:I can't remember. I know the first CD I ever owned was the Beatles' Revolver but I didn't buy it for myself.
FIRST FUNERAL:I think it was my Great-Aunt Ida; I can't remember if I was at her funeral, the unveiling of her tombstone, or both.
FIRST PETS: Either goldfish who ate each other or sea monkeys!
FIRST PIERCING: Both my ears, when I was seven and scared out of my tiny little mind.
FIRST TRUE LOVE: My current one.
FIRST BIG TRIP: That I can't remember--back to America from Germany at the age of 6 months; I was born at a military hospital in Frankfurt. That I can remember--my first big trip by myself was to Israel for ten days the summer before my sophomore year of college.
FIRST MUSICIAN YOU REMEMBER HEARING IN YOUR HOUSE: Live--my brother, first on trumpet, then on guitar. Recorded--Garry Lewis and the Playboys.
LAST BIG CAR RIDE: Really big one? To Gettysburg with my brother and father at the end of summer 2002.
LAST KISS: Last night with first true love.
LAST GOOD CRY: Also last night, but not related to kiss. :)
LAST MOVIE SEEN: The Hebrew Hammer--far funnier than it had any right to be.
LAST BEVERAGE DRUNK: Cranberry-apple juice at my cafeteria.
LAST FOOD CONSUMED: Four mini chocolates shaped like little globes from multicultural night at the Simmons dining hall.
LAST PHONE CALL: My grandma just called to see if I felt better after the migraine I was suffering from on Sunday. :)
LAST TV SHOW WATCHED: The proposal episode of Monarch of the Glen...about half a dozen times.
LAST SHOES WORN: Lazy black canvas flip-flops.
LAST CD PLAYED: Currently in the middle of Bleu's Headroom.
LAST ITEM BOUGHT: Pizza and beverages for me and Heather Saturday night in Andover.
LAST DISAPPOINTMENT: No motivation on paper talked of in previous entry. ERRRGH! And I really do find the topic interesting! So infuriating...
LAST SODA DRUNK: Diet Coke accompanied by fabulous take-out Thai food in the dorm of my ex-roommate while recovering from migraine on Sunday night.
LAST ICE CREAM EATEN: Something from the cafeteria.
LAST SHIRT WORN: Black turtleneck, topped by green cable-knit sweater, topped by grey hooded sweatshirt all being worn currently by consistenly cold me. :)
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Nov. 18th, 2003 @ 08:25 pm A Truth Universally Acknowledged
Current Mood: complacent
Current Music: "Terrible Secret"--Bleu
So I believe I promised an explanation of my memory game. Far be it from me to keep this from you when I know y'all've been chomping at the bit for it...

So I may possibly have a bit of a book problem. They kind of go everywhere with me: classes, work, public transportation, concerts, movies, you name it; I can't stand the idea of being somewhere with a free minute, nobody to talk to, and nothing to read. I am, however, brutally impatient with my books: any lull in the story will send me straight to the back of the book where I will read the ending and then hate myself for it. So my theory goes something like this: if I read more than one book at a time, I can always just switch back and forth whenever I find myself getting bored and eventually finish both books the whole way through and feel all thrilled with my intellectual and cultural sophistication. :P

Except, as per usual, I had to get carried away. Currently I'm reading 12 books. So not only do I have firm assurance that I will never be bored, it's turned into a kind of memory game to see how many plotlines, settings, and characters I can keep in my head at one time without getting confused. So far I'm doing all right. I don't have to read them in any order and I don't have to read an equal number of chapters from each one. There are only four rules: 1)I must always be at the end of a chapter in one book before moving on to another book. 2)If I'm discouraged with a book then I don't finish reading it. No guilt allowed here. 3)When I finish one book, it gets replaced by a new book, thus keeping me at 12 until I decide to wind it down. Considering how stressed I've been lately, I think it may remain at 12 for awhile. It's such a relief after a long day to have oodles of books to choose from that have nothing to do with school. :) 4)No reading more than one book by the same author at the same time unless a special dispensation is made.

And because I know you're dying to know what they are and why I'm reading them:

1. THE YEAR 1000 by Robert Lacey and Danny Danziger: American history majors have to get their knowledge of medieval times in any manner possible. Why should I feel shame?
2. SILAS MARNER by George Eliot: Didja ever see the movie A Simple Twist of Fate? It's based directly on this. Silly as it is to have to admit to being lured towards a classic thanks to a Steve Martin movie, that's how it happened. But damn Eliot takes forever with the backstory!
3. NORTHANGER ABBEY by Jane Austen: The only Austen book where I don't even know the basic plotline. So obviously that had to be rectified...
4. THE MOONSTONE by Wilkie Collins: A contemporary of Dickens, it's obvious that he too was paid by the word. But they're such good words!
5. O PIONEERS by Willa Cather: This was kind of a fluke. I had no idea it would so easily consume me; it's written so damn comfortably.
6. IMAJICA by Clive Barker: So when I was in the eleventh grade, I sat next to this boy in math class and we pretty much spent the whole damn time harrassing each other. Even then I was known primarily for my obsessive reading tendencies and he used to tease me about it like everyone did. Then one day he gets all serious and starts telling me about this book that just blew him away. I admit that was blown away--I didn't really think he ever read. So five years later, I picked it up at the BPL. And I think I may have to email Jon DiNapoli and thank him. Who knew?
7. COLD MOUNTAIN by Charles Frazier: Always meant to read it and then heard the movie was coming out. I cannot watch a movie about the Civil War without reading the book first! As a future American history teacher, I would be, as Lilo so succinctly puts it, AN ABOMINATION! The language is so smooth and lulling, so that you don't even realize you've been sucked into a battle scene until you're dodging bullets and stealing the boots off of Union soldiers.
8. REBECCA by Daphne DuMaurier: You figure hey it was written years ago, the genre has long since been played out, I'll read it just to say that I did. And then you feel the flesh on the back of your neck start to creep cuz you just can't figure out how the damn woman died already!
9. AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS by Jules Verne: Yes, I know the story; yes, it's incredibly dated and a wee bit racist; but it's, well, , kind of flippant fun.
10. ANNE OF GREEN GABLES by L.M. Montgomery: Of course I love it, of course I've seen the television version about a dozen times, but I own all eight books in the series and have never gotten through them all in a row. This time I will, oh yes, I will. BWAHAHAAAAA!!
11. JITTERBUG PERFUME by Tom Robbins: Robbins is like Vonnegut on an acid trip. How can that be a bad thing?
12. THE HISTORICAL FIGURE OF JESUS by E.P. Sanders: Working on paper about the relationship between Paul, the Gospels, and the metamorphisis (sp?) of Christianity into a religion from its origins as an offshoot of Jewish radicalism. Now I'm really interested. Of course I've now had the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar in my head all freakin' day. Particularly King Herod (who died, I believe, the year Jesus was born, but what are facts to a man like Andrew Lloyd Webber?): "Come on, King of the Jews!" Over and over and over and over and over and ARRRRGGHHH!

So anyway, I'm done now. Any suggestions for new books once I finish with the old are always greatly appreciated. Believe me when I tell you that I will not tire of this quickly.
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Nov. 9th, 2003 @ 01:09 am But slowly...or you'll swamp the damn boat, OR Fun with ellipses
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Sean Altman's alt.mania album
Wow...just wow. Today was the first day in weeks that I got to sleep in. I reveled in sleep til noon, but I'm beginning to think it might be better to have a full, early day. I seem to manage my time better when my schedule is full to bursting. Which would explain why it's one in the morning and I'm nowhere near to finishing my work. I'd do it tomorrow but I have to go home to Sharon right after work to visit my aunt (newly cured of cancer thank G-d!) and I'll be spending the night at home. I always say I'll bring work home and do it there and then I never do, so it all needs to be done tonight. That's okay though. I'll have plenty of time to sleep tomorrow night. And my problems generally stem from panicking when I get into situations like this. So I'm not panicking. :)

Went to dinner with Amanda, Chad, Kara and Abby tonight for Abby's 21st birthday. Japanese food = yummy especially the sushi (i mean if i can eat gefilte fish, i can eat anything, frankly) and my very first taste of fried ice cream. Things are just so nice lately. I rarely sleep, my eating habits are shot to hell, I'm stressed, and my room could receive federal funding...and I'm okay with all of that. My classes are going fine, the student I work with at the Hebrew School doesn't resent my presence as he has my predecessors, and my job at the high school...

It's fantastic! The teachers are entrusting me with so much responsibility: I'm creating worksheets, teaching mini-lessons, making flashcards (bizarrely fulfilling, don't ask), grading tests and recording them in the gradebook...It's all right there in front of me, everything I want, nothing is going to stop me now, even my own occasional self-destructive tendencies--which reminds me...

So the college sent me a letter saying that I had been nominated, along with a bunch of other juniors and seniors, to be included in the 2004 edition of Who's Who Among Students in American Universities and Colleges. I was a wee bit dumbfounded considering last year's spectacular meltdown in the fall which had a nasty effect on my GPA. But I figured, considering that someone (who?!) took the time to nominate me, that I might as well fill out the application. When they asked me what the most important thing that Simmons had contributed to my life, I figured I had nothing to lose and talked about all the support I'd received after my academic breakdown and how it had given me new confidence to continue my studies and always be sympathetic to the plights of my own students. I handed it in, was told I'd hear in awhile if I were one of the 39 students from Simmons chosen, and forgot about it. And then last week, I got a letter from the Dean of Student Life--I was accepted! Anything is possible! Love my work, like my classes, adore my family (I have an 18 year old brother who actually likes to spend time with me and I'm maid of honor at my dad's wedding this spring!), have the most amazing bunch of friends ever wished for (if you're on my friends list, you are included obviously!), and my boyfriend...

My boyfriend is wonderful and we'll be celebrating our one year anniversay on Monday. I try not to think about that too often because it kind of staggers me--where did the year go? I don't really know what to do for the anniversary; neither of us has ever had one of these and he's not big on formal celebrating. I think I'm just going to give him a card; I'm observing the day but he doesn't have to feel obligated to do the same. I love him dearly but because I need to focus on school and work right now and can't always give him my full attention, I'm not really worried if I don't always get his. Well, truthfully, in my head I don't mind. My emotions have been in a bit of a flux lately so I don't always listen to my very practical head. I'm working on that...

Of course what I should be working on is my paper so I'm going to stop writing now. It doesn't help that I'm reading a bunch of fun books similtaneously (sp?) which is my idea of pleasurable memory exercise and I would much rather be curled up with any of them right now than working but oh well. Mayhap I'll discuss said exercise and talk about the different books in my next entry. That's something to look forward to...
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Sep. 21st, 2003 @ 10:10 pm Lest any know me quite
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: "Lullabye"--Ben Folds Five
Well....it's been awhile. And I'm not sure how frequent I'll be with the updates. But I'm back and I'm feeling okay, so I guess much more can't be asked for, right?

I feel pretty well in control of my time right now, though it will all go to Tartarus in a clay pot once I start my second job tomorrow. But my tutoring program has placed me in some history classes this year which is pretty exciting. Every year I'm getting closer and closer to my goal. I'm damn petrified about growing up: getting an apartment, starting a career, maybe someday starting a family...but the prospect of the classroom itself, MY classroom, with my carefully crafted lesson plans in front of me, my posters and maps all over the wall, and those children that I've already learned to love, those wonderful, stubborn, angry, opinionated, bright, beautiful students...I don't fear that at all--I revel in the idea.

So feeling the control pretty well and happy with the route I'm on. Still fighting the same demons though--I can feel them; I suppose I always will. They manifest differently occasionally but I will deal with them in all their incarnations. Lately they've been manifesting as unnerving insecurity and mild self-loathing; so to combat them I'm going to finish this entry, take a shower, go to bed, and get up tomorrow morning to go do the thing I was born to do. How's that for self-confidence?
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May. 6th, 2003 @ 11:30 pm Kiss me like a drug, like a respirator
Current Mood: mellow
Current Music: Black Velvet--Alannah Myles
Like the last reaching beams of a setting sun, I disappeared into the horizon of final exams. And like a quiet, stealthy mist, I sneak back in for a few words to you, my gentle readers. Soon, like the proverbial phoenix, I will rise forth from the filthy ashes of schoolwork into the bright, fiery future that is summer vacation. And like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our...oh, the journal entry, right.

For the first time in a long time, I feel a modicum of control. What a lovely, lovely feeling that is. I can't promise it will remain; I have a lot of work to finish (which I could be doing now, but will instead be writing this and then going to sleep) but I think I've worked out when it will all get done without driving me to the Dead Man's Curve of my sanity.

And, to make life even better, I'm getting along fabulously with most of my family. They are so supportive I could weep with joy--come to think of it, I have. Life is currently the perfect combination of satisfying and annoying. When it's too annoying, my temper and sanity slip through the cracks of my self-control. But when it's too satisfying, I'm constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop (the other shoe? hell, what happened to the first one? That's what I wanna know) and that's no way to live. So things are not completely perfect, and I am completely happy with that.

A quick glance in the mirror tells me that peacefulness--and my new fly-by-night haircut!--wears rather well on me. :)
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Apr. 15th, 2003 @ 01:46 am Dreaming in the deep end
Current Mood: pensive
Current Music: "One Night in Bangkok"--from Chess
Ah, chocolate...hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, fun, fun, fun....

So the thing is I've been fighting this battle for a really long time. On the one hand there's this anal-retentive perfectionist and on the other hand there's this irresponsible, disorganized creature...and they just tear away at me. It's one of the main reasons this semester has been so stressful; I've been attempting for the very first time to straddle the line: I won't tolerate the creature but I can't be the perfectionist either.

You see, last semester I had this really spectacular melt-down and that was it for me, the final time...or at least I certainly hope so. The reason I think it might be okay this time around is that I'm finally seeking other people's help rather than just depending on myself. And I had this revelation last week: I don't have to be one way or the other; the middle road is okay too. I know it doesn't sound like the most brilliant of epiphanies but I can't tell you what it meant to me, to know that there wasn't some intrinsic flaw in my character, that I could finally relax a little bit.

It's still hard though. I feel as though I have to make up for last semester, and I have so many roles to perform in: daughter, sister, granddaughter, student, friend, girlfriend, tutor, teacher-to-be. I'm desperately afraid something's going to drop, and when one thing falls, I panic and throw everything else into the air.

To top it all off, I'm having trouble finishing my work again tonight. Will I ever be allowed to sleep again? *Sigh* Will I ever write a cheerful journal entry again?
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Apr. 14th, 2003 @ 01:18 am Can't think, brain numb, inspiration won't come
Current Mood: worried
Current Music: "Hallelujah"-- Rufus Wainwright
I have a history project due tomorrow. And it's not at all a big deal: 3-4 page paper on notes I've already taken, poster with pix that I've already printed out. But I can't seem to concentrate or focus in any way and I had the worst talk with my father tonight and oh god the amount of work just looming over me...

Pray for me, my lovelies. If I can make it thru the next two weeks, I'm golden. If not...*sigh*...I'll make it, I'll be a basketcase, but I'll make it.
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Apr. 12th, 2003 @ 08:11 pm To you my mind I will unfold
Current Mood: relaxed
Current Music: "Feet Don't Fail"-- Bleu
So in my desire to verbally exorcise yesterday's demons, I never did talk about the fun I had Thursday night. I met Rhonwen, Cristovau, and his girlfriend Robyn for chocolate after they saw Chess. My biggest fear after the play was that, after months of trusting, joking with, venting to, depending on, and caring about these people, we'd turn out to only be "theater friends." You know the type I mean, right? When the pressure of an intense show throws you all together you're inseparable but then, afterwards...you just smile, say hi, and walk on by. I was desperately afraid that since I'm still fairly new in the SCA and fairly young if you were to average out the ages of the Midsummer's actors that I'd end up losing all these people I'd come to adore so quickly. But it turns out I didn't have to worry. They're just as wonderful offstage as on. We traded theater stories and I somehow volunteered myself to sing something during MayDay. Still not quite sure how that happened...*shrug* I love to sing so I'm not really worried.

So anyway, that was fun but then the classroom incident happened yesterday. Afterwards I went out with some friends so we could see Chess ourselves. Despite sitting rather close, I couldn't hear a damn word the actors were singing, either because the orchestra was too close and too loud or because something was off with the mikes. Body mikes always make me a wee bit nervous because you come to depend on them and then you don't project...even though so many things can go wrong with them. The singers were really good though; Anatoly and Florence had very professional, beautiful voices (but Cris, tell Robyn I noticed the missed G note too; he damn near broke the poor thing in half), Freddie was better than I figured he'd be when he first started singing, and I was totally blown away by the power of Svetlana's voice. Damn. But I was most disappointed by the show itself. The plot was flimsy, the characters were underdeveloped, and the dialogue made me want to scream (Florence: "I love you." Anatoly: "This I know." This I know? The hell? People, it was the nineteen-eighties, not the sixteen-eighties. Also, Anatoly, honey, put your hands down. No more gesturing, no more fist-making, no more plaintive reaching, just put them down, dear.) Ah, well. The songs are still really good. And it was unbelievably wonderful to have seven friends who wanted to slog out in the rain with me on a Friday night. Yeah! I have a social life!

And then today was just relaxing. Hung out with my S.O. and...no wait a minute. I have to get this out. I really dislike the phrase "Significant Other" and I don't think I'm going to use it anymore. It sounds like a variable in a chemistry experiment (and, in a metaphorical manner of speaking, I suppose it is) and just feels kind of jarring to me. I'm twenty years old and should not have a problem with calling the poor guy my boyfriend. Anyway, I promised I would not do any work today and take a break and I've done so. I'm going to be an absolute witch tomorrow when I remember everything that needs to get done, but until such time...well baby I'm just gonna go with that flow. :)
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Apr. 11th, 2003 @ 04:26 pm It's always something cruel
Current Mood: determined
Current Music: "The Comedians"-- Roy Orbison
If you all will excuse me for a moment...AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe* Oh my. I know I've been stressed lately, I know I've been overemotional and highstrung, and I suppose in hindsight I should have seen this coming, but I so didn't. I don't have class on Fridays, just work; I was tutoring in a last period math class. I've been with these kids since mid-October and, while I love all of them, combined they are bottled chaos. And today they weren't even that bad, but there was just this undercurrent of noise and no one was paying attention during MCAS review and they kept getting out of their seats and no one was listening to me...I had already raised my voice several times, no one could hear me if I didn't, and I was getting more and more unstable each time I did. I BIT MY HAND at one point to stopper my temper. And then...I just couldn't take it...I yelled at the whole class, asked for just a little good behavior during the last 5 minutes of class, told them the MCAS were soon, and that I was stressed out too. And when I finished, there was one of the girls standing by someone else's desk when I had just asked everyone to be seated and pay attention. So I asked, well told, her to sit down; I admit I was sharp, but she just ignored me. I told her not to disrespect me (and that should have been a warning for me; I don't allow myself to bicker with them normally) and she told me not to disrespect her and started muttering about me under her breath...and that was it, the uncooked spaghetti noodle that broke the Swedish chef's back (I know, I know, what? Yeah I don't get that either, but it just came out and I'm just letting it all go right now). I could feel myself think, a la John Paul Jones, "Girlie, I have not yet begun to disrespect you," and knew I had to get out. I grabbed my stuff, told them I was thin-tempered today and couldn't deal with them, stormed out of the room and, naturally, burst into tears.

On the plus side, my boss is back on my good side. He took me aside afterwards, told me about times he'd broken windows and chairs, commended me for leaving before I proved how well white Jewish suburban girls can curse, assured me that everything was alright and made sure I'd be willing to go back and face them (of course I will, no way in hell do I go down this easily) and then told me to go home and relax.

Which I would have done sooner if I did not have to wade thru the second coming of the Flood out there without an umbrella. But, it doesn't matter now. I'm warm, I'm dry, I'm calm(ish), and I'm going out with friends tonight. Best of all, I have nowhere to be tomorrow and I can sleep in as late as I want for the first time since spring break last month.

And I'm not in the least bit discouraged by today. If anything, I'm even more determined to teach and make a difference. And, besides, when one of the other teachers reassures you by letting you know that the worst year of his life was his first year of teaching--and that that was after he'd left the Marine Corps--it makes you feel more normal about losing your temper. This too shall pass, etc, etc......
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Apr. 10th, 2003 @ 07:50 pm My candle burns at both ends
Current Mood: tired
Current Music: "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" by Doris Day
Yeah! I got my journal set up despite my complete technolgical inaptitude! I finally decided to set up a place to rant before my poor stressed friends decide to dump me in the Charles. :) Err...so much stress. I've taken to bursting into tears at the least thing. I dropped my book in the mud a few weeks ago and wept openly on the Orange Line all the way to work. I mean anyone will tell you that this particular chica loves her some literature but that was just ridiculous. *Sigh* I was all set to start chewing out my boss in this entry, but all the anger seems to have been leeched out of me...all the energy too. Ah, well. Going to have coffee and chocolate with some friends tonight and that will make me feel better. Mayhap I should sleep at some point too. :p Anyway, I've resolved not to stress anymore until I get home from work tomorrow afternoon, so if you like reading the ravings of a furious, frustrated woman, just wait a day or two and I promise to provide.
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