Epiphany

I've had an epiphany of sorts.

It all started 25 years ago for me, when I did my practicum teaching with Jack Kennedy at City High in Iowa City. That's when I fell in love with journalism education -- when I saw this man make magic happen in his school newspaper. He went on to win many awards and will become the President of the JEA tomorrow.

And I got to listen to this wonderful man for four straight, glorious days as he pontificated about advising publications. . .and now I'm hooked again.

Hook, line, and sinker.

I want to change the world again. I want to teach talented kids about the first amendment and the power of the press.

I want to do what I thought I was stuck doing.

It was a truly epiphanous experience, and I hope this feeling lasts.

Hemorrhoids

This sensitive subject deserves equally as sensitive treatment. This blog is dedicated to that special part of my ass that only appears occasionally, wreaking havoc whenever it begins to throb, yes, you know, it, my hemorrhoids.

Well, hemorrhoid actually. The one that first appeared during the birth of my first son. If I were to name it, I'd probably call it "Hal." I don't know why.

Anyway, Hal only appears now when I struggle with a particularly nasty bowel movement. I avoid doing this at all costs, however, because Hal is no fun.

Why is Hal significant? Because I love scattelogical humor. And today all I have to do is pack up for graduate school in Iowa City. This week-long class should be interesting and fun, and I can't seem to get off my ass (minus Hal) and pack. I'm too fat for any of my cute summer clothes, so I have to wear the old lady stuff. Oh well, I am looking more like an old lady than a co-ed, and the sooner I realize that the more fun I'll have playing my role.

I have all the things I didn't have back when I was a co-ed. I have a wonderful husband, doting kids, and a career that makes me feel good inside.

But dammit, I also have Hal. And therein lies the problem. I'm a 40-something professional who is one bowel movement push away from being practically incapacitated.

Oh well, shit happens.

I learned something

Yea! I am learning! Jared taught me how to scan and I've done it several times without him. He also taught me about the clone stamp tool, and I restored my wedding picture that had been damaged. See it here: http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d149/MsCalvin/CalvinWedding8x10.jpg

And Pi is conducting a class for future editors, and I learned more about placing text and photos into an indesign document. I knew most of it, so I have a bit of confidence. . but there is a fucking lot more to learn!

Anyway, if I get my head out of my ass a little bit more, maybe I won't want to leave this job. Who knows?

Summer Goals

So I achieved two big milestone goals already, early in the summer.

First, I accidentally stumbled upon Phoon #4, and I"ll upload it when it becomes available on phoons.com.

Second, I achieved "Hit Artist" status on SingStar this morning on Black Horse and a Cherry Tree. The only problem is that the words don't make any sense. I can sing the hell out of it, but I have no idea what story I am telling.

Story of my life. I have no idea what story I am telling.

I Hate Yearbook

I've got to admit it so I can get over it. I hate yearbook. I truly do.

I need to do research about the longevity of the average yearbook adviser. I'd guess it's not long. The job is a killer. My shrink says I make too much of it, that my OCD makes me puke in the mornings, but I say it's the job.

Couple THAT with the fact that I'm computer semi-illiterate. I gotta give myself SOME credit, I can troubleshoot lots, but I'm not that great with the Adobe Creative Suite software. That's my nemesis.

OK. Time for SuperCalvin vs. Creative Suite. Actually, it's time for me to kick ass on SingStar on PS2.

Pissed Off And Happy

Well, I emailed them, and they responded. A letter was mailed out today informing me that they hired somebody else for the job. So, naturally, I am pissed and feel like a loser.

But, strangely, I am also happy that I shall remain where I am. How dichotomous.

Well, now the entire reason for this blog is painfully brought back to my attention. I need to learn my damn programs, and maybe this job won't be such a stressful son-of-a-bitch.

JARED! We only have 2 months for me to learn lots.. .so teach me, before you go off to be a cyclone. I'll try to be a good pupil.

FUCK. How funny to be both pissed and joyous. This is a new one.

So I tried to run away and didn't make it. But I happen to know there will be another opening next year that I'll probably go for, so I just gotta hang out for another year and be good.

HAHAHA. That's funny. I feel like it's becoming opposite day. I think I'll test out that first amendment and get called in to the office a few more times this next year. ...then they might not want me to stick around so much. . . oh, I didn't blog about that one. . .yet.

Friday and a Broken Ankle

Well, you know how you bang yourself on something and then later, when the bruise appears, you don't remember doing it? That happened with my ankle. Except I think I chipped a bone, so you'd think I'd remember doing THAT.

Hmmmmm.

And it's Friday. If the District doen't call today, I'll be double pissed. Oooooh, I'm such a badass.

I just wanna know what I'm doing next year! Is that too much to ask? And I have a slight case of OCD, so I'm tending to obsess about it. Only now, God gave me a busted ankle to divert my attention.

She works in mysterious ways.

Phoon Goal

I need an idea for my 4th Phoon. I have an idea for Quincy, which will be my 5th "contributor Phoon", to jump on the trampoline and phoon in mid-air.

But I need inspiration for my next one. I lack a goal right now, of which I am painfully aware as I sit and stare at this computer screen.

The first was easy to conceive: Phoon on the lunchroom table at Newton High School:

http://www.phoons.com/calvin.html

The second also came easy once Maytag was acquired by Whirlpool:

http://www.phoons.com/maytag.html

And last summer, once I saw the "Do Not Play" signs crop up around town, I knew I had to Phoon on the memorial:

http://www.phoons.com/playing.html

But now, what is phoonworthy around here? Where can I get the perfect photo to submit to the ultra picky John at phoons.com?

I wish I was like some of the people on the site, who seem to have unlimited funds to travel the globe and to phoon in exotic locales. . .instead, I've got to look at this area sideways to find the perfect phoon location.

Instead of thinking outside the box, which is now cliche, I think I'll start looking around sideways. HMMMMmmmmmmm. Sounds like an interesting proposition.

Rage Against The Man

We were just listening to Tom Morello on youtube.com, a political guitarist/singer who's mom just introduced him by saying "Fuck President Bush." How interesting. He's the former guitarist of Rage Against the Machine, and he was suggested to us by one of my favorite former students, Mr. Vancent Flattery.

A typical Sunday morning for most, I'm sure. We've already done the Elvis Gospel thing, and have moved on. Two cups of coffee will do that for you, I guess.

I'm reading the Sunday paper and there is a plethora of information on the Iowa caucuses. The election is over a year away, and we already are inundated with crap here in Iowa. I'm going this time, for the first time, to my caucus, so I should read the shit.

I don't know who to vote for yet, though. Obama? Clinton? Edwards? Kucinich? Hmmmmm. who could win? Remember, I'm not very good at judging, I liked Howard Dean -- especially his famous scream. . . I thought that ADDED character.

I just don't want The Man to win. . .that is, a republican man. Or a republican woman, for that matter -- they are scary bitches.

Go caffeine.

Medium Hair #8

I hate it when I do what I've done before, expecting different results.

I wanted a new haircut, so I decided to chop 7 inches off. Major. Radical. Looks nothing like the picture I brought with me:

http://hairstyles.free-beauty-tips.glam.com/medium8.shtml

Instead, it looks like the same haircut I've been getting, only 7" shorter. YUK. I'll spare you, the reader, the trauma of looking at a picture of me. Plus, I don't have a cool studded bracelet, like KenFin pointed out yesterday.

There's an ad in the paper today for a secondary social studies position. Who knows if this is related to the deal with my transfer. Like I said before, something is amok.

OH, and the Colonel is an asshole. But that's a whole other post -- if I'm ever in a foul mood again I'll blog about the Colonel who's name happens to be Dick.

I should be happier. Summer is officially here for the school teachers. But I have to start working again next Tuesday, on the yearbook. But I get paid extra, so I guess I have to suck it up. Plus, I get to hang with Jared, and Greg is coming in also to help a bit. I'll have to get some InDesign tips out of his brain on to paper.

Why can't I ever stop working?

Working on Vacation

I'm at school right now. Presumably to drop off a camera receipt that was due, but in reality, so I can blog. Our Internet is down in Baxter, much to my chagrin. I'm also looking at Jason, or Pi, who is working on who knows what in the computer lab next door. We're supposed to be having a class right now, but I cancelled it because I didn't want to work. And now I'm here working.

Kind of.

I just backed up our server in case something were to happen to our yearbook files. Now I'm trying to print the senior pages so I can take them home and proofread them. The life of a yearbook adviser is glamorous, yes, 'tis true.

I think the district fucking sucks. They let me end the school year not knowing what I'm doing next year. I think that is a raw deal, and since this blog is all about my opinion, I guess I'm right.

Oh well, I'm working on my first day of vacation. I'm either dedicated or stupid.

Everett and his other brother Everett

My neighbor's name is Everett. He's out talking to my husband right now. They do this every so often, cuz it's the neighborly thing to do.

He's a sweet man, but not the brightest bulb in the shed. He's got a brother who is hunch-backed like Everett, so I call him Everett also. I think his name is actually Don. This will be important when I become rich and famous, because by mentioning them in my blog, I have inadvertantely made them famous too. They will be like Larry Bud Melman, or Mujibur and Sirajul from David Letterman, plucked from obscurity into celebrity.

Why is this significant? Because I'd like a diet coke right now. See, product placement is everything.

BTW

By the way, no word yet on the status of my employment for next year. I ran into the prinicpal, and she insinuated that something is amok.

I hate amok.

Especially when I'm at the receiving end of it.

Battle of the Bands

I was a judge last night in a local Battle of the Bands, and it was one of the hardest jobs I've ever had. There were four of us: me, the professor, the kid, and the big guy. The professor tried to run the whole thing, the kid pissed me off, and the big guy was pretty cool. My favorite band got second, and I had to fight for that.

I also witnessed a disturbing thing that has me bummed a bit. When the bands were playing I was jamming. My head was a bopping and my feet were tapping while I was sitting in the judges row. Twice, I saw high school kids point me out to their friends, like I was some kind of freak. Some middle-aged woman head banging.

It really is fucking with my psyche. I mean, I've been jamming since before the little fuckers were born. Why did I feel so freakish?

Oh well, oh by the way, the bio's they read for us were pretty funny. The professor wrote some long-ass, long-winded thing about his vast musical experience, and the kid wrote a brief little list of his musical talents, and the big guy has been in an impressive number of bands covering different genres. So when it came time to write mine, I had to get creative:

"Lisa Calvin played drums in 5th grade, and was a violinist in high school. Later, she turned sex educator and now teaches journalism at the high school."