Guilty Pleasures

On David's last post there were a couple of comments about guilty pleasures. Most concerned watching TV shows that may or may not have any redeeming value (e.g. Lois and Clark, Deadwood, etc.) Well, I'm writing today to tell you about some of my guilty pleasures. Ah yes, I shall expound on those things that we take delight in even though we would never be caught dead doing them in front of our professors, priests, bosses or other people who we want to trick into thinking that we are smart, well raised, mature people. Well, we can't always just pray the rosary, read edifying material, and write beneficial prose. Actually, we probably could, but then we would be saints. I'm not there yet, and for this reason I present to you my guilty pleasures.

First, I like peanut butter. A lot. However, the guilty pleasure does not come from the substance itself, but in the way I consume it. I have to preface this by saying that the O'Neil household is a no-bread household because of David's allergy. Therefore, I cannot just eat peanut butter sandwiches. Instead, I grab a giant spoon and retrieve a massive quantity from the jar. Then I set on the couch and lick it mindlessly as though am eating a gargantuan peanut butter popsicle. I'm sure I look like an idiot because David always rolls his eyes while I do so.

Second, Vh1. This hasn't been a problem since I moved out of my parents house, but the addiction was bad enough at the time that it still rates up there. Did I watch Behind the Music specials of bands I did not care about or deplored? Yes, I happen to know where Kid Rock was born and the name of his alleged daughter. Did I watch a reality TV show on this channel that was based around forming a new Chippendale's type group? Um... Yes. Finally, did I watch an eight hour marathon of America's Next Top Model during summer break even though I was called by my boss and asked to work at Osco that day? Yes...I...Did. I'm sure you all hate me by now, but it is kind of cathartic to clear the air about these things. Anyway, Vh1 is the devil. It sucks you in and then never lets you go. Thank God I moved out of my parent's house.

Third, Purdue Women's Basketball. I follow this sport even more than I like to admit. I mean, I know the types of people who watch women's sports and it's not pretty. But I do watch Purdue women's basketball, and I even go to ESPN.com to check out the team's latest stats. Then, I get angry at ESPN.com because they are always making such a big freaking deal out of the Tennessee and Duke women's teams and I feel like Purdue isn't getting enough recognition.

Finally, "Push it" by Salt-N-Pepa. I don't normally like rap, but this song has some kind of sway over me. I find myself listening to it at least once a week, and I had it as a ringtone on my old phone. There have also been occasions where, when encouraged (by alcohol), I have rapped the entire song for people whether I was asked to or not. I have also requested it at wedding receptions (again, this was an alcohol influenced decision). Now, this song is bad. Let me give you a sample of the lyrics:

Salt-N-Pepa's here and were in effect
Want you to push it, babe
Coolin' by day, then at night working up a sweat
C'mon girls, lets go show the guys that we know
How to become number one in a hot party show.
Now push it

Push it good.
Push it real good.

Okay, so now you see my dilemma. It is obvious that this song is immoral and I should not listen to it. Furthermore, I hate almost all rap, especially the really vulgar stuff. And yet, I really like this song, though I have a hard time explaining why. And then there is another part of me that says, "Hey, I'm a married woman and I can push it or have it pushed in any manner I choose (so long as it is in accordance with Theology of the Body and my NFP method)." And as far as I know, JPII never said anything against becoming "number one in a hot party show." So I will continue to listen to the song until I find out otherwise.

Well, anyway those are some of my guilty pleasures. If you feel brave enough, post some of your guilty pleasures on the comments section. Until next time remember this: "This dance ain't for everybody, only the sexy people. So all you fly muthaz get on out there and dance. Dance, I said!" Ah, words to live by.

Do Your Part

Find the cure!

David's birthday

Hey everyone, I know it's kind of late in the day, but it's David's 27th birthday. That's why today is the day that will always live in infamy, right? If you're reading this, go to his blog and leave him some kind of birthday message on his most recent post. If it's the eighth, you can leave a birthday comment for him too. He won't mind if it's a day late. You should leave him a comment because he's great and he isn't getting to spend his birthday the way he wants. He has to work at dumb ol' Ivy Tech and I'm holed up in this God forsaken computer lab getting my paper done. I haven't seen him since 6:30 this morning! Boo! When I woke up I said, "Happy birthday, I love you, you're special!" And he said, "If I'm special it's only 'cause I'm married to you." Now isn't that sweet? Okay, I'm going to stop now before Aric breaks in to my blog (and yes, I know he's capable of it) to make fun of me for being in love. Go leave David a comment!

Finals

I'll admit that it's all self-induced, but I'll be damned if it's not exhilarating when these things come down to the wire. I find I do some of my best writing then. If you need me, I'll be in Stanley Coulter G73, the computer lab...for two days straight.

Laundry

David left a pen in his jeans before I did the laundry today. Here are the results.

Articles of my clothing with ink on them: 7

Articles of his clothing with ink on them: 0


How in the hell does this work? The pen came from his jeans! I'm sure the goddess of domiciliary functions is laughing heartily. Screw domestic chores.

Who built the Ark? No one, No one

When I was in elementary school, we used to sing a song in music class called "Who Built the Ark?" Now you know this has to have been a long time ago because no one would be allowed to sing about Noah in the public schools these days for fear of offending one's heathen classmates, or more likely, their heathen parents. Anyhow, the song goes "Who built the ark? Noah! Noah Who Built the ark? Brother Noah built the ark." Well, for some reason my first grader brain thought that the lyrics were actually "Who built the ark? No one No one." I have no idea why. I had heard the story of Noah before, but I never really put the two together. I don't know if I thought the ark builders' union was on strike or what. All I knew was that this particular ark was not getting built.

I did some further research on this yesterday and found that the second verse of the song goes "Old man Noah built the ark. He built it out of Hickory bark." I know what you are thinking. And no, I have no idea how I reconciled that "Old man no one built the ark. He built it out of Hickory bark" but I swear that's what I though it was. Anyway, the larger picture is that the song says Hickory bark is what the ark was built out of. I am not a tree-ologist or an arborologist, but I find it questionable that Noah,Ham, Shem, and Japheth were cutting down huge Hickory trees. It's more likely that they were dealing with Cypress trees. All I could find from the Bible is that God told Noah to make the ark out of "gopher wood." Either way, I think this song is taking too many liberties with biblical stories. Plus, "gopher wood" is funnier.

Which brings me to the main point of this post. I'm sure we have all seen the cute little Noah's ark playsets for kids, or even a child's room decorated in a Noah's ark theme. I'm sorry but I find this hilarious. Remember that in Genesis God says, "And behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life under heaven, and everything that is in the earth shall die." What fun for children! The least the toy makers could do is throw in some dead bodies for accuracy. What's next? I know, a playset of Job's sufferings. Mother: "Look darling, I bought you Job's playset complete with flaming sheep and a house razed to the ground!" 4 year old child: "YAY! This will also help me deal the complex theological issue of the problem of evil!"

Truthfully, I don't care if kids play with a Noah's ark playset. The only reason I started to think about it is because my niece and nephew just received one from a very nice and generous Christian couple. It's just that the more I thought about it, the funnier it became to me. The only reasons that these playsets are made is because kids like boats and animals. I'm not sure that much thought of the actual story of Noah ever went into the planning.

The End of the Affair

Well, I just recently finished The End of the Affair by Graham Greene, which I was urged to read by both Anne and Mary. I like Graham Greene, so I determined to read it when I had a free couple of days. Yet, I've kind of avoided posting about it because it was a complex book and I wanted to do it justice when I write on it.

First, I think the book was great. Greene has a way of presenting Catholicism with realistic grit without disrespect. He takes off the rose-colored Catholic glasses that I think many people have glued to their eyes. Yet, Greene never causes a person to loose hope. In fact, he inspires it. It's just that his writing is not so clear cut and heavy handed that it smacks you in the face with probity and piety. Mary once said that Greene, in The End of the Affair, leaves the door open for salvation. I think that description is fitting. Yes, the people in this book are not good people at the beginning, and most of them are not good in the end. But the change is set in motion, and I really believe that Sarah was a saint by the time she died. There is overwhelming evidence for this in the book, so I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks this. What I enjoyed about Sarah's conversion and move to holiness is that it was gradual. It started at 2 when she was baptized and ended when her life ended. It was an immense struggle for her, and it was one that readers were not always sure would end happily. I think this is the most accurate description of conversion. Now, I like to read the lives of the saints, but sometimes when I read them it seems that the saints were either born that way, or the clouds just opened up one day and they decided to change. I know this isn't the way, but its how it seems sometimes. Greene presents the setbacks, the screeching halts, and the human side of the path to holiness.

So, we know that Sarah was a saint, but what about Bendrix, Smythe, Henry and the rest of them. Well, Bendrix is the hardest to figure out. At the end of the book he seems even more bitter and evil than he was at the beginning (if that is even possible). Yet, throughout the book he commonly mistakes love for hate and hate for disbelief. He says he hates Sarah, but he never really does. He says he doesn't believe in God, but really he just hates Him. At the end, Bendrix acknowledges his love for Sarah. He doesn't acknowledge his belief in God, but the disbelief is really hate. And in The End of the Affair, hate is only a millimeter away from love. I'm not going to wrap everything up in a nice bundle and say that Bendrix will definitely convert. We don't know, but we do know that the door is open. Smythe and Henry are closer to conversion and Parkis is in the bag. So here we have a novel that seems so bleak and grim, yet it embodies so much hope.

If I had to choose my favorite between The Power and the Glory and The End of the Affair, I would still choose P&G right now, though I have a feeling that it might change over time. If I had to choose what book is of better literary quality, it would be EA hands down. For me, it's the same as choosing between the Odyssey and the Iliad. The former is more fun and exciting to read, but the latter encompasses so many more complex emotions and themes.

I'll continue to read more Greene (I'm reading The Quiet American now) to see how the rest of his novels, plays, and even children's books stack up to the novels above. If any of you have read any of Greene's work comment and tell me what you think of it. If you haven't read any, I suggest you do.

Scholastic apathy

It's about that time in the semester where projects, papers, and exams are due. So I have to start making up for the work I should have been doing all along. With that being said, I'm a tad busy at the moment. I don't think I'm alone in this boat, and I don't necessarily feel like a bad student about it. I do, however, feel like a tired, unenthusiastic student who has been in school for 21 out of her 25 years on this earth.

I'll give you an example of my indifference. Last week I was chosen by one of my professors to have lunch with the (sarcasm) Marjorie Garber, who is a Harvard professor and renowned Renaissance literary critic. I didn't have the heart to say that I had never even heard of the broad. So I had lunch with her and two other grad students who were chosen. I read some of Garber's articles so I could make intelligent comments and pretend like I had heard of her. It didn't matter because she mostly talked about Harvard politics and herself. So I got out of there with a free lunch and a lesson learned. The lesson being that most renowned whosits are way too full of themselves. After the lunch Garber gave a talk that I did not go to. Yesterday, before class, my fellow classmates were talking about how great Garber's talk was and how great she was in general. I mentioned in passing that I went to lunch with her and she didn't seem that great to me. Well, all my classmates were shocked and surprised that I went to lunch with THE!!!!!!!!! Marjorie Garber. Then I said that I didn't even know who she was before I went to lunch with her. Well, one of my classmates admonished me because "Garber is on the same level as Greenblatt." Now, I have heard of and read Greenblatt, but I'd be surprised of anyone outside the small world of English Lit. academia has. Even after my classmate's revelation, I could not work myself up into a fervor about the momentous Thai food luncheon that I had taken part in. Although, I have to admit that it was fun to make my smarmy classmates jealous, especially because I didn't care.

I suppose the real question is the following. Was I indifferent to meeting an academic heavyweight because I am tired of school in general, or was I indifferent because that is the normal reaction to meeting a person that one has never heard of? Well, I'm going to go out on a limb and say both. I am tired of school and I don't participate in idol worship, or in this case, scholar worship. Though, I have to say I would have been more googly eyed had I met Peter Holmstrom, guitarist for the Dandy Warhols and indie rock legend. I've juxtaposed a picture of Holmstrom and Garber so you can make the decision for yourselves. I think it's pretty clear. Anyhow, the point is that I'm getting a little tired of school. I'm sure this will change about 25 seconds after I get my MA, but for now it's getting a little old. The funny part is that I didn't set out to write about this at all. I was just going to make a quick post to let people know that I would try to update more often. Oh, I guess there is one more point. Indie rock stars are much cooler than Renaissance scholars.

Gettin' Physical

Well, I've gone and rejoined Jazzercise. Yes, you heard right. I've rejoined what is possibly the most made fun of way to work out. Runners get respect. Weightlifters get respect. Jazzercisers get entire stand up comedy acts devoted to them. I'm not angry about it. In fact, I understand completely. First, there's the name. It's dumb and it makes no sense. We don't listen to jazz and even if we did the name would still be silly. Second, only women are in this group. This isn't because of any rule against men. I just think that men would die of estrogen intoxication if they ever even witnessed a session. Then there are the names of the moves we do. We do chasses, plies, grapevines, jazz stretches, and attitudes lifts. I'm not even making these names up. Next, whenever we do certain moves we yell, "whooo!" in unison. Finally, there are certain floor moves we do that simulate child birth. In one routine for abs and legs, we are down on our backs, legs wider that shoulder width, while pulsing and squeezing all appendages and the stomach. If someone screamed, "epidural, please!" it would be completely convincing. Well, it would be convincing it some Jessica Simpson song weren't playing in the background.

Yet despite all these reasons, I still like going. It's a pretty good all around workout. We do lots of cardio and strength stuff. Oh, I also like that I'm the youngest person in the class by about twenty years. This means that class is like exercising with 20 moms. The Jazzercise ladies are really nice and laid back. This is different than the Purdue CoRec because every girl there is trying to compete with each other and snag a date. I don't feel like I have to suck anything in around the my jazzercise moms. Anyway, Jazzercise is fun and it's hilarious. Sometimes I'm not sure whether I stay in shape from the workouts or laughing about them.

Cassandra Complex

Some days I feel like Cassandra from Greek and Roman myth. Cassandra was a student of Apollo who gave her the power to foretell the future. Apollo wanted to get with Cassandra in that creepy "inappropriate student-teacher relations" sort of way. Cassandra rejected Apollo's advances and was punished accordingly. Cassandra was able to keep her power to accurately foretell the future, but when people heard her predictions, they were all convinced that they were hearing lies. No one would ever believe her. She predicted several disasters, including the Trojan Horse and her own death at the hands of Clytemnestra (See picture at left.)

Now, what does this have to do with me? I can predict the future about as well as Mrs. Cleo(ca' me now fo' your free tarrot readin'). However, I do feel like I have been saying several true things lately only to be judged a lunatic or just simply an idiot. For example, I haven't felt well recently. I've had some heart palpitations and have had a 24 hour monitor affixed to my chest in order to catch these palpitations. Of course, as soon as I get the monitor, the palpitations that I have had every day for the past two weeks have disappeared. I can't wait to return to the doctor so she can tell me I'm nuts. Next, my students must think that I'm telling them lies when I illustrate to them everything I know to be true about Latin. This is apparent because I will show them a concept and they will do the exact opposite on the quizzes and exams. So what am I going to do? Probably break down and start screaming at the top of my lungs until David takes me to the loony bin in Logansport. That's my prediction anyway.

2 Legit 2 quit (hey hey)

Well, I know it's a day late, but I thought I would post this picture anyway. It's a picture of me and Kris holding our MC Hammer pumpkin. We're even giving the 2 Legit sign. So, If anyone has ever questioned my legit-ness, let them behold this pumpkin and recognize my legitimacy in all it's glory.

Why an MC Hammer pumpkin, besides the obvious show of legitimacy, you ask? Well Kristin had everyone over to her house a week ago so we could do pumpkin carving and other fall activities. There were eight people and four pumpkins, so we had to pair up. I was paired up with Kris, the nice,young, Swedish Viking/ physics PhD student you see above. At first we were going to carve a crazy physics equation in the pumpkin, but then we decided that neither of us were good enough with a knife to carve a psi. Then we started talking about eighties cartoons. At this point, I think all of the other pumpkin carvers were getting annoyed because they had started on their standard pumpkin faces long ago. After rejecting a Darkwing Duck logo and a Salt and Peppa image, we decided on Hammer. Essentially, this is because Kris and I both found that we "hustle for our muscle and you look weak to me. We're going for all that we can get, takin' it to the top 'cause we're 2 legit 2 quit (hey hey)." After that inspiration, we set to carving and ended up with the finest MC Hammer pumpkin ever.

Now if you'll excuse me I've got to go hit some fools with a "dose of old-town power, and charge them by the hour." That's word.

Retraction

After giving much thought to Mary's last comment, I have decided to pull my last post. She was right. You just never know who's watching. This is exactly why I try to blog about my own personal life as little as possible.

Dictators R Us

Kabila, Il, and Castro

Where do these guys shop? Seriously? I guess the more important questions is this: where do these guys get their governing tactics? But I think to two go hand in hand. If you want to be a dictator, you should probably dress like this so no one mistakes you for the milk man or a good person or something. If you already dress like this, you are probably a dictator. Quick, look at your clothes. Drab green uniform? check. Oversized chest pockets? Check. Huge mysterious looking glasses? Well, two out of three ain't bad, Kabila.

This brings about my next question. Why do these guys dress like this? The entire world knows that they are power abusers, human rights violators, and money pilferers. Yet they still wear the totalitarian uniform, which is a ugly green jumpsuit looking thing. If I were a dictator and everyone already knew that I was an evil and rich autocrat, I would wear a gold sequins tuxedo, ivory clogs, and a top hat made of caviar. Oh, and I'd throw in a monocle with a diamond lens for good measure. I mean, who do these guys think they're fooling?

Cameras and Blue Jacket Night

Last night was another Blue Jacket night and another lovely evening of conversation and libation. As long as I have gone to these meetings, which in the scheme of things has not been a long time, there has been a struggle between those who want to document the entire night on film (Chris Meadows) and those who don't want it documented (everyone else, as far as I can tell). Now, Chris has done a lot of good with his camera, and I think everyone acknowledges this about him. Yet, the novelty of having one's picture taken wears off quickly. And as a scientist, Chris wants a full explanation of why the group doesn't want its picture taken. This is where the problem arises. No one really can give a good, full, or meaningful explanation of why picture taking is so off putting. Well, right here on this post I am going to try to explicate these matters in such a way that it will be fully articulated and iron-clad. I want to be clear that the following treatise is not one written against Chris. Truthfully, his picture taking never does more than kindle a mild but good-hearted and sporadic annoyance. What is at heart of the matter is the absence of delineation on the subject. I will attempt to fill this void with the following.

First, picture taking is great for events such as German fest, special family functions, artful purposes, and the like. Claire and I were just discussing these purposes last night. However, taking pictures at a weekly gathering with the same group of people seems to break the intimacy of the atmosphere. This is a place where we go to shed the albatrosses of daily work, school, and home life, a place where we do not have to be "on." But having a picture taken negates this experience. Suddenly we have to interrupt our current engagements in order to present ourselves to the world with courteous, respectable, recognizable, and overly gleeful expressions. In other words, we must switch back "on," and we are left to transition back to a more natural state on our own. By that time, our interactions have been exposed and we are fully aware that we are being watched and documented. There really is no way to be our normal candid selves after this. Even if one pretends that the camera isn't there, it still alters one's actions through the act of pretending. Thus, a wedge is driven between us by the camera, and the amiable closeness we seek from one another is shattered.

Second, the camera does not just drive a wedge between those who are having their picture taken. It also creates a barrier between Chris and us. Many people say that smoking, among other things, is a defense mechanism employed in order to keep others from getting too close. The camera acts in the same way. If Chris is behind the camera, then he is completely removed from the group function. Thus, we start performing separate actions and lose cohesion with him. Chris becomes the seer and we become the visible objects, but the relationship is not reciprocal. The lack of mutual, interdependent communication separates Chris from us and prevents us from getting too close to him.

Finally, the presence of the camera at Blue Jacket Night creates a sense of hyperreality that is unneeded and, ultimately, unwanted. Pictures are used as ways to somehow augment our experience or, in other words, augment our reality by means of better memories of events. Yet, this hyperreality is actually a distortion of the events that actually happened. For example, our Blue Jacket experience becomes less about relating with friends and more about the representations of the relations with our friends, which are the pictures. As soon as the pictures take precedence, our actions cease to be real and become hyperreal or distorted. This distortion alters our entire actuality to the point that our relations never take place as they normally would. From here, the pictures start to signify our experience, when really they mean nothing; just as the cross would mean nothing without Christ's crucifixion.

The above are my reasons for not wanting excessive amounts of pictures taken at Blue Jacket Night. I hope that they were articulate enough. Though they cannot represent the feelings of all participants, I have tried to cover the main arguments. If you have something to add, dispute, or refute, please post a comment. Furthermore, if you have any comments about the nature of photography in general, please make a comment. Finally, what was posted above should not be taken too seriously. I was just toying with some ideas that were brought up by last night's discussion, and I really don't mind Chris taking pictures. The most important part is that I like Blue Jacket Night and I enjoy the company of all who go there. The friendship and camaraderie is invaluable.

Sir Walter Raleigh

I happen to be a fan of the Beatles. Not a huge fan, just a fan. For instance, I don't believe that Paul was killed and the license plate on the Abbey Road cover points to that. I hate almost all of the Beatles early stuff. I want to puke when I hear "I Want to Hold Your Hand." I've heard that the Beatles themselves hate most of their early stuff too, so I guess I'm not alone. However, I do think that Abbey Road, the White Album, and especially Revolver are strokes of genius. I am also in the minority when I say that George Harrison was brilliant song writer. Oh, and I do hate Yoko. But I'm sure you are asking yourself, "Monica, what does this have to do Sir Walter Raleigh, the Renaissance poet, nobleman, and explorer?" Well, I'm glad you asked.

We were reading Raleigh and talking about him in conjunction with Spenser a couple of days ago in my Renaissance Texts and Theory class. The Professor had mentioned that Raleigh was good friends with Queen Elizabeth I. In fact, he was such a good friend that she granted him a wine monopoly in 1583. This means that every time someone in England bought wine, they would pay taxes to Raleigh. This led many people to curse his name.

When I heard this it stuck out for some odd reason. See, I've been really tired lately because of my thyroid. So I have listened to and had the song "I'm So Tired" off of the White album stuck in my head. Some of the lyrics in the song are " I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink. I'm so tired my mind is on the blink. I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink. No, no, no." Then the fourth verse goes "I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset. Although I'm so tired I'll have another cigarette. And curse Sir Walter Raleigh, He was such a stupid git." Before my class, I just chalked up the random Raleigh reference to the fact the Beatles were on a lot of drugs and doing tripped-out transcendental meditation when they wrote and recorded the White Album. I mean, I only need a couple of drinks before I start making weird references to Joyce. But then, every Joyce reference is weird in some way. Anyhow, now I know the real truth behind the reference in the song. I knew grad school would pay off.

Maybe next semester when I take the John Donne class I'll learn why Eleanor Rigby waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. I mean really, who is it for?

Quarter Century Landmark

Well, I turned 25 yesterday, October 15th. Normally this is a day to celebrate one's self and reflect on the righteous life that one has had up to this point. I didn't exactly get to do that yesterday because I was busy confronting every single horrible quality that I have.

First, there's sloth. I slept in and had to go to mass at St. Ann's. The highlight there was seeing the Antonio kids, who are always adorable.

Then, I was pretty much in a foul mood because of some stupid "difference of opinion" I had with David the day before my birthday. So, I was also mean to my husband on my birthday. Great. And I'm pretty sure he was regretting marrying me yesterday, which is not a lovely thought to be aware of on one's birthday. The worst part is that what we were "differing" on is not an important issue in the least.

One true highlight is that I got together with some Blue Jacket kids and watched "Strictly Ballroom" at Denver and Chris' apartment. Everyone there was nice, the movie was fun, and Mary made Irish cream brownies, which were very good. This of course brings me to my next bad quality: eating too much, which I did at Denver's and my parents later on.

Everyone was very nice to me on my birthday, which I appreciate but do not deserve. At the end of the day yesterday I really found myself wondering why I have such good friends and family when I certainly deserve much worse. As I said, on birthdays, people usually reflect on what a great life they have lead. Yesterday, I found myself wondering how I've made it 25 years without someone trying to eradicate my existence from this planet. Man, what a birthday. If anyone needs me, I'm moving to a cave at the edge of the Carpathian mountains. I'll be in the Slovakian region near Mt. Gerlachovkain. My new address is:

Monica, The Wicked 25 year old Gorgon-Crone

Cave in the Carpathian MTNS, Slovakian region

Near Mt. Gerlachovkain, 13872

My indentured fury-Sherpa will deliver all my mail.

Corporal Punishment

I've been giving a lot of thought to corporal punishment lately....at the college level...at Purdue University, actually...in Latin classes to be more specific... in my Latin classes to be really specific. The only thing that keeps me from implementing it, besides the law, is that I'm not sure it's fair to flog people who are this idiotic. Does that make me a bad teacher?

Personality tests

There has been a lot of talk in my circle of friends lately about personality tests. In the Blue Jackets group, the four humors test is all the rage. This is the one where you can test sanguine, choleric, melancholy, phlegmatic, or a combination of these. Then, my husband has gotten some people into the Myers-Briggs test, which gives a person one of 16 personality types based on a set of four characteristics. Personality tests are fun because they involve great amounts of human interest, and as I human, must admit that I am mildly interested. However, mild interest is where I draw the line. No single person can ever really be summed up by choosing from 4-16 personality types. And yes, I know that all of my friends and loved ones are well aware of this. So please don't assume that this is about you. Yet, I have heard some people saying things like "well, I do this because I am melancholy." And this is where personality tests start to bother me. Some confuse the identifying type as the cause for their traits instead of the other way around. For example, a person does not like to be the center of attention because they are sanguine. They are sanguine because they like to be the center of attention. No one should ever identify with a personality type so much that they start using said type to explain their actions or situation in life. I also believe that personality test don't reveal anything new even though some act like they do. For instance, I know that I am a moody, overly sensitive, pessimistic person who sometimes experiences brief moments of extreme sadness. I don't really need a test to tell me I am melancholy for that. Just because I happen to be melancholy doesn't mean that it governs my entire life or prevents me from ever experiencing any other emotions.

What I find more interesting than the results of personality tests is the reactions to results of personality tests. I think it reveals a lot about human nature. Most humans, myself included, are eager and sometimes anxious to categorize and identify themselves in order to explain who they are and why they act the way they act. Everyone does it at one time or another. Yet, this can go a little too far if personality tests are taken too seriously. For instance, when I go to a party, I would never say, "Hi. I'm Monica, and I'm over here in the corner clutching my drink and sweating because I am a melancholy INFJ." Perhaps I should though, right? I mean, in an instant that person would know everything they would ever need to know about me and we would never have to experience a friendship because the person already knows me deeply and intimately. Right? Right? Of course not. Maybe I should throw a party like that . Everyone would show up and we would all stand in a line. One by one, people would step up, announce their personality type, and then leave. What fun! Anyway, my point is that personality tests can be fun, but they don't explain anything or tell us anything that we don't already know about ourselves. Alternately, they don't explain enough about us to anyone else to be useful. But maybe I'm just saying all of this because I am a melancholy INFJ.

On the nature of David

Ok, so what's coming next is something that I don't normally do. I'm going to make a pretty mushy post about how much I love my husband. I guess even an old rattlesnake like me has a soft spot.

As some of you may or may not know, I've been pretty sick lately, and not in that "I have a cold that won't go away" kind of way. It's more like, "I've got a medical condition" kind of way. I'll not go on about the details right now because the doctors don't even have it fully figured out. Anyway, since I've been sick David has worked his job at Purdue, my job at Purdue, his job at Ivy Tech, and my job at Ivy Tech. And let me tell you, that is a lot of teaching and tutoring of many people who resist scholarly cultivation at all costs. And he's done it all without complaint, and I love him for it. He's also cooked dinner, done grocery shopping, and washed several dishes. Meanwhile, I've just sat around the house in a tanktop with two fans on complaining about how hot I am and how tired I feel. So, I just want to say how grateful I am to have David. It is extremely nice and comforting to be taken care of by someone who loves me that much. David and I know that it is our job to get each other to heaven. Both of us always joke about how the other got the harder end of that bargain. I know for a fact that he has the harder job though, and he continues to love me anyway.

Good Autumn Songs

It's almost October now, which I happen to think is the best month in the whole year. And I don't just feel that way because I was born in October either. The weather is getting cooler and a little rainy, and those are the perfect conditions for cute jackets and awesome cups of tea. I'm sure I'm not the only one, but the weather really affects the kind of music I like to listen to. In the summer I like more up beat stuff. In the winter I find myself listening to down right somber music. And in the autumn I find myself listening to music that is heartwrenchingly beautiful and sad. It's the kind of music that you could cry yourself to sleep to while paradoxically realizing how beautiful life really is. In honor if this season and these conflicting emotions, I have made a list of the top twenty songs for cold, rainy days. You will not find songs like Eddie Rabbitt's "I Love a Rainy Night" and the Carpenter's "Rainy Days and Mondays" on this list. These songs may have "rainy" in the title, but they do not evoke the kinds of emotions that would make them fitting for rainy days. This is because they are stupid, piece of crap songs with hardly any musical value. Sorry. I just can't find a more learned way to say it. This list is in no particular order, but I think that it would make a great soundtrack for this fall. So, without further ado, here are the songs.

1 Naked as We Came- Iron and Wine, or any song by Iron and Wine, really.
2 Your Ghost- Kristin Hersh
3 Perfect Day- Lou Reed
4 Benjamin- Veruca Salt
5 One Million Miles Away- J. Ralph
6 Fade into You- Mazzy Star
7 Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want- The Smiths
8 Pictures of You- The Cure
9 Night Swimming- REM
10 I'll Be Your Mirror- The Velvet Underground
11 New Slang- The Shins
12 Teardrop- Massive Attack
13 Of Angels and Angles- The Decemberists
14 Oh Comely- Neutral Milk Hotel
15 Breath In- Paloalto
16 Tonight and the Rest of My Life- Nina Gordon
17 Penelope- Pinback
18 Hallelujah- Rufus Wainwright/Leonard Cohen
19 Sleep- The Dandy Warhols
20 Hassle Free Harmony- Her Space Holiday

I know there are several other good songs. I had to leave off a lot from my list. So after you look over this list, make a comment and tell me your favorite autumn songs. Even if I don't know who you are and you just happen to being reading my blog for no apparent reason, I still want to know what your favorite autumn songs are. Please make a comment.

Act of Contrition draft

A couple of weeks ago I decided I was going to write my own Act of Contrition. The following is a draft. I suppose because it is a draft that it's open to criticism.

Oh God, I am gravely sorry for my transgressions against you.
Not only because I fear the depths of hell, which promise eternal torment,
but more importantly, because I have separated myself from you, who have promised me eternal joy. With your help I intend to do penance, take up my cross, and follow you, so that I may love you more perfectly.

Lord have mercy on me, a wretched sinner.

Amen.

So, I don't know. It's pretty cut and dried, I guess. I like it though.

In a side note, sorry to anyone who read my last post. It was entirely too long and not very fun. I should have summed it up in the following way:

Friday-My friends imbibed a bunch of soda and I tested them on it.
Saturday- John Elias was baptized, some kids got a buzz off of 10 glasses of holy water, and the Schnerres threw an awesome party, in a completely grown-up, for married people with tons of kids sort of way.
Sunday-RCIA is cool,and I ate way too much at my Aunt Barb's. Like always.

Weekend Update

So, I had a pretty busy and interesting weekend. Let's recap.

On Friday, Anne, Peter, Laura, Dan, Paul (Dan's Brother), and Michaela came over and took part in "The Ultimate Soft Drink Showdown." We held a blind taste test to determine which cola is the best out of Pepsi, Coke, and RC. Coke won by two points over Pepsi. However, results were mixed when it came to who could correctly identify the three. Dan and Laura correctly identified all three colas. Yay for them. While some had a much more difficult time identifying them. One person in particular had a hard time accepting the implications that a negative identification between Coke and Pepsi had on her own self-identification. LOL. It was truly a life changing experiment. Afterward, some of us played The Great Dalmuti. Laura and Michaela looked great in the Lesser Peon hat! Meanwhile, Dan and Paul played Duckhunt on the old Nintendo.

On Saturday, I got up at 6 AM in order to be at John Elias' baptism down in Indy. John and Katie worship in the Byzantine Catholic rite, so John Elias' ceremony was much different than the one we have in the Roman rite and much longer, but I didn't mind. First, the baptism starts at the back of the church with the baby facing east. This is where the baby is exorcised. Then after the exorcism, the baby is taken up the the front of the church where all of his clothes are taken off and he is anointed with oil. After that, he is fully immersed in water. Then he received his conformation and first communion. They do most of the Sacraments at one time in the Byzantine rite. While all of this was going on, I saw two children who were attending the baptism get up and walk over to the holy water canisters. They turned the spigot and began drinking several glasses of holy water. Now, this kind of freaked me out because we don't drink holy water in the Roman rite. At least, I've never seen anyone do it. It also freaked me out because they each had, like, ten glasses each. I mean, they were guzzling it. After the baptism, I asked John if that was OK in his rite. He said it was, though the kids probably shouldn't have had 10 glasses of holy water in succession.

That evening, David and I went to a party for young married couples thrown by Mary and Bob Schnerre. It was an awesome party. David and I really enjoyed ourselves. Grant and Claire, the Antonios, John Paul and Katie, and and bunch of other really great people were there. Amazingly, there were 26 children ages 5 and under in one house at the same time. The most amazing part is that it really didn't seem that overwhelming, and there were several opportunities for baby holding. My favorite babies there were Peter Xavier Antonio and Margaret Schnerre. Very cute.

Today, right before 9:30 mass everyone went to the gym to meet the new RCIA people. When we were going into the gym, I jokingly asked David if he thought anyone who worked at Ivy Tech would be converting this year. You see, David and I work at Ivy Tech, and last year he and another person who worked at Ivy Tech both converted. Well, to our surprise someone who we know from working at Ivy Tech is in RCIA this year! How wild! If that isn't a reason to incorrectly use exclamation points, I don't know what is!

Finally, My Aunt Barb is having a dinner/birthday party for my cousin Nicole. This means that there will be at least 5 different appitizers and plenty of wine to start off with. Then, I have been told that we are having pork tenderloin, potatoes, salad, green beans, and rolls for dinner. Then, we will have birthday cake, pie, ice cream and coffee to finish. My Aunt always has truly epic Sunday dinners. I don't know how she does it. I also don't know how I'm supposed to stay in shape when I eat there. Oh well. I love her to pieces and I know she loves us, too.

Next post I'll be back to my old self with scathing and witty social commentary.

Papa B offends, irony ensues

Last Tuesday Benedict XVI gave a talk at the University of Regensburg in Bavaria. The theme of his speech was that faith must have reason. God is reason and only by reason can one have faith. He also condemned religious violence as an attempt to promote inter-faith relations. He went on to give an example by quoting Byzantine emperor Manuel II Paleologus:

Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.

Granted, this to me does not seem like the most genteel quote to read when trying to reach out to Muslims. However, I am not the leader of the Church on earth, and therefore, there might be reasons why this quote seemed suitable that I am not aware of.

Yet, what ensued was completely uncalled for, and, in my opinion, absolutely proves the Pope's point. After our Muslim friends heard this, people from several countries burned and vandalized churches, harassed priests, and in one instance in Somalia, killed a nun. Evidently, these people either do not have an acute sense of irony, or they do not know the meaning of the words evil and inhuman. One would assume that if people were called evil and inhumane, those people might protest peacefully in order to prove that they are not. Instead, some people thought "I'll show the Pope I'm not evil and inhumane by killing an innocent and defenseless nun."

I do not hate Islam or Muslims. I do not think all Muslims are terrorists, and I am not ever afraid when I see a Muslim. Furthermore, I think the greatest majority of Muslims are defamed when the entire group is categorized as evil. However, after this occurrence, it makes it that much harder to dismiss the claims that Islam is a violent and hateful religion.

"Long live the Shepherd of the Flock! Long live the Pope of Rome!"

It's kind of funny who we consider national heroes these days. Take boxer Muhammad Ali for instance. This is a fairly despicable man if you look at his track record, but because he was clobbered in the head too many times and managed to get himself brain damage, we treat him like he is a demigod. It just goes to show that pain or heartache is the trump card when we consider the merit of a person. Case in point, many people will want to say to me, "Monica, you can't say that Muhammad Ali was an adulterer. For God's sake, he's got Parkinsons disease!" So what? That doesn't change the facts. And speaking of facts, lets look at them.

Cassius Clay, Ali's pre-Islam, becomes a member of the militant and racist organization, The Nation of Islam. Notable members include Malcom X and Louis Farrakhan.

In 1964, Ali, a brute who made his living thrashing other people, dodged the Vietnam draft because he was a "conscientious objector." I'm not making this stuff up. Really, the entire time when Ali was throwing punches at people's heads, he was trying to send a peace offering in the name of Islam.

The promoter of some of Ali's fights, was the one and only Don King, who served time in prison for killing a business partner.

Ali was a known womanizer, who has been married four times and has several children, two of which are from extramarital relationships.

And this is the guy to whom we give humanitarian awards. We laud him for his courage and uprightness. We name athletic centers for children after him. We let him light our Olympic torch. We let a draft dodger light the American Olympic torch. Has Ali done some good things for charity? Sure, after he was too old and to ill to pummel other bruisers, cheat on his wives, and spit vitriol about the white enemy.

We ought to look for heroes who have always done good deeds even when it didn't benefit them or their public image. We ought to praise people who make the right moral decisions even when it's hard and even when no one is looking. Mother Theresa is a great example of this. Instead, we are ready to canonize anyone as soon as a tragedy befalls them, no matter how much of a degenerate they were before said tragedy.

But perhaps I shouldn't attack Muhammad Ali's merit. He's got Parkinson's for God's sake.

Would you believe that it's over a week later and I'm still sick? I not on the verge of death or anything, but I will say that I'm only 75% recovered. This cold just refuses to move out of my lungs. This is a really sore spot for me because I just felt like my lungs were on the mend from the reflux, and now I have this. For the sake of refinement, I'll not divulge the full details of my illness. I mean, if courtesy does not separate us from the animals, what does? However, I will say that I am coughing up copious amounts of dark, and I mean really dark, yellow sludge. This leads David to believe that I have some sort of infection. So, I've spent the last week making sounds that would make a truck driver blush in order to banish this infection from my lungs. Even after all these sounds, David says he still loves me.

Now I would like to devote the next part of this post to blogs. Yes, I'm blogging on blogs. I think Foucault would call that a metablog.

I'm not sure how much good this blog is doing me, and I'll tell you why. First, I need to read five more chapters in Pat Barker's Regeneration for a class that meets in an hour. Instead, I'm writing to a maximum audience of five people about my snot. Not that I don't love those five people, by the way. Second, I'm really tired of writing about the mundane rituals that make up my life. Wake up, teach Latin, read or don't read a good or not good book, try to sound smart about book I have or have not read yet, etc. I've really tried to keep my boring life out of this blog as much as possible. The point at the beginning of this thing was to tell about funny stories that happen to me. But as soon as I created this blog, I had a drastic drop in funny things that happen to me. Weird. So, my boring life has crept in. And then I think, why does it matter? Blogs are like the medicine cabinet of the internet. Everyone likes to have a little peak even if all it contains is the same stuff you yourself have. Nevertheless, I am going to try to liven things up by telling funnier stories of giving outrageous opinions on various topics. And I will keep blogging because I think it's kind of therapeutic.

First outrageous opinion: I hate the UN. I hate global government, and I hate any bureaucrat sticking their nose in my business. Especially corrupt ones from other countries. Four words for the UN: League of Nations, bitches!

Second outrageous opinion: I hate monarchies and monarchists.

Third outrageous opinion: I hate super-elitist colleges that promote monarchy, racism, and all around priggishness, one in particular.

Well kids, I'll see ya on the flip side.

"Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms."

Alexander Pope

I am very sick. My body is cooking itself at extreme temperatures in order to get better. I hope it knows what it's doing.

David and I have become addicted to a television series called Rome. We have been renting the season one DVD's from family video because we don't have cable. Even if we did have cable, we wouldn't be able to watch Rome because it's an HBO series. We are only on the 5th show of season one, so Julius Caesar hasn't even been named emperor yet. However, he has marched on Rome is going to fight Pompey very soon. I can't believe how accurate most of the show is. It really shows all of the plots, subplots, planning, and conniving that it took to make Caesar the emperor. All the main characters are in it: JC, Octavius/Augustus, Marc Antony, Pompey, Cato, Cicero, and Brutus. And all of the actors are really good. David doesn't like the actor who plays Cicero because he, Cicero, is a sniveling, snotty kind of guy. David had always imagined Cicero as more powerful. I kind of like the guy. I mean, Cicero was a powerful orator, but I get the feeling that he was also a person who people wanted to shut up as soon as he started to speak. And the actor who plays Cicero really pulls off that part well.

The only problem with the whole series is that there is a lot of sex and nudity in it. Now, I know that Rome was a filthy dirty sex pit, so I won't fault the show for accuracy. However, I have seen full frontal and backal nudity of both sexes, and it's a little much. I don't think it's sinful that we watch the show because we don't watch it for the sex, and Rome can be educational at times. And no, I don't mean sex-educational. But I surely do wish the sex scenes we more modest. I don't know. That's how I'm rationalizing it, anyway.

So, as everyone on this planet knows by now, it has been revealed that Pluto is not a planet. Evidently, this makes some people very angry. I think I heard that some people were even considering declaring war on NASA. My first reaction was "who cares?" I have more interesting and exotic planets to worry about, like say, Earth. And just because Pluto isn't a planet, that doesn't mean that it has ceased to exist. In fact, maybe Pluto feels relieved to shrug off its planetary constraints and responsibilities.

Maybe another reason why I am so unaffected by this news is that I knew it was bound to happen. No, I am not an expert astronomer. I'm not even an amateur astronomer. However, I am a Classics major, and according to some people, that makes me smarter than the 99.73 percent of Earth's inhabitants who are not Classics majors. I will show everyone why Pluto was bound to meet it's fate as a lowly dwarf planet using my special Classics knowledge.

Here goes. Pluto was the Roman god of the underworld. You may know him better as Hades, which is the name most of the Greeks knew him by. There were twelve gods of Greek and Roman mythology who resided on Mt. Olympus. The Greeks and Romans had several more gods, but these were the only ones who got to party and have sex romps on Olympus. The Olympians are as follows: Jupiter, Juno, Apollo, Diana, Mars, Venus, Ceres, Neptune, Hestia/Bacchus, Minerva, Mercury, Vulcan (Note- these are all the Roman names). Pluto was not allowed to party on Olympus because he was a lame, mopey guy who constantly had to keep an eye on the underworld. Now, think of our solar system as Mt. Olympus. We have Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Neptune, Mercury, Earth, Saturn, who is the god of cars, and Uranus, who is the god of ....well, never mind. Pluto is not allowed in our pantheon of planets for the same reason that the god Pluto was not allowed on Olympus. Its a lame, mopey planet that rules over the underworld of space. So I say let's stop blubbering over Pluto and start engaging in some inter- galactic planetary space parties the way it was intended to be.

Until next time, remember kids: Mary's Violet Eyes Make John Stay Up Nights (no Period)

Well, I ran a mile a couple of days ago with David just to see how my lungs would fare. I made it, but barely. My chest still felt tight and I was out of breath. I haven't exercised in a half year, so that might be expected. I had a one week check with the doctor who put me on Nexium. He said that my breathing would keep improving as long as I'm on the medicine. He also said to wait on the exercise for a while. It makes sense. He said that my lungs have been seared by acid for over six months, so it might take a little longer than a week or two for my lungs to fully recover. Drat. I hate to wait, but under the circumstances I'll do it. I'll just continue to gain weight in the meantime, which makes David happy, so I guess it's not a complete tragedy.

I'm really bummed that I can't be in exercise classes this semester. The truth of the matter is that I hate to run. I've tried to find comfort in its simplicity (a.k.a LOW COST), but I can't. Running is really boring, and all I have to concentrate on while I run is the fact that my lungs feel like they are constricted with barbed wire and my legs feel like they are made out of cement. When I am in exercise class, there is music, lots of other people, and its lots of fun.

In an unrelated note, I'm excited because David and I have been invited to a party for young married couples. One from the Schafer clan is having a "dessert soiree." It will be nice to see Mary again because the last time I spoke with her was about three minutes before I walked down the aisle. The only problem is that there will be one couple there who I cannot stand. These people might as well be my arch enemies. David doesn't even like them, so I don't even have him reminding me that I need to be a good Christian. Oh, and Mary's house isn't that big, so I can't just avoid them. I'm also assuming that there will be no booze, so I can't just drink them invisible either. But I will go to this party, I'll be charming, and I'll be on my best behavior. I mean, I really like the rest of the people who are coming to the party. I'll just talk to them. Perhaps I'll even bury the hatchet with my adversaries. After all, they can't be that bad, and no one likes to have arch enemies. Right?

In another unrelated note, welcome to the world John Elias Russell. He was born on Labor Day, which made him a little over a month early. Katie, John, and the baby are doing fine. I was born over a month early, too, so I already have something in common with the little guy. I know from experience that John Elias will have premie power for the rest of his life.

I'm tired and I don't really have many pressing thoughts at the moment.

Last night I had dinner with Anne, Peter, Dan, and Laura. We had chili and cornbread muffins, and everything was fantastic. Afterward, we had great conversation, and Dan told some really great stories. David wasn't able to come to dinner because he had to work at Ivy Tech.

I was also tired but extremely happy yesterday because it was my third straight day without any lung spasms. Yes, lung spasms. Evidently this is a little known health problem associated with acid reflux. Most people just get heartburn, but I get lung spasms. The acid flows up my esophagus and spills out in my lung wall. This makes my lungs go crazy. All of this started in late January-early February. I went to Arnett Clinic several times where they told me my chest pain was just stress. That is the most irritating and insulting answer a doctor can give. I have no doubt that my condition was brought on by stress, but that doesn't mean that my pain isn't real, and it certainly doesn't mean that there is nothing they can do about it. Since February, my spasms have been getting progressively worse. I would have them every day. Then, after we returned from Europe, I started having spasms continuously. All day, every day. I finally went to PUSH because I was having trouble breathing, and I decided that the spasms might be related to my asthma. After two unsuccessful asthma medications, my doctor put me on Nexium, an acid reflux medicine. And there you have it. My spasms reduced almost immediately. Now I'm spasm free. I still have a little trouble breathing, but I have no doubt that it will improve in time. I really feel like I've gained a part of my life back. I'm even going to start exercising again as soon as my breathing clears up completely.

So, I'm thankful for Nexium. I'll even be able to have caffeine again soon. See, caffeine makes acid reflux worse, and that in turn made my spasms worse. Maybe then I'll be able to wake up.

Some things never change. I was reading Erasmus' The Praise of Folly yesterday and today and I came across a great paragraph that essentially sums up the way I feel about some of my peers here at school. Erasmus was a 16th century humanist and theologian from Rotterdam. He was a Catholic who rightly criticized the church for some of its corruption around and during the reformation. The paragraph goes like this:

"The rhetoricians of our times, who think themselves in a manner[of] gods... believe they have done a mighty act if in their Latin orations they can but shuffle in some ends of Greek like mosaic work, though altogether by head and shoulders and less to the purpose. And if they want hard words, they run over some worm-eaten manuscript and pick out half a dozen of the most old and obsolete to confound their reader, believing, no doubt, that they [who] understand their meaning will like it the better, and they [who] do not will admire it the more by how much the less they understand it."

Isn't it great? Don't get me wrong. I like graduate school. I like it for the simple facts that I like to read and I like to learn. What I don't like is the way one thinks they have to act in order to be accepted into the academic community. Sometimes it's a little too fake. Actually, I even like big words, but I don't abuse them. I'll only use an uncommon or fancy word when think that word is the best word to express my meaning and emphasis.

I know I promised I would give a top ten list, and that will come within a week. It takes time to think of one's favorite and least favorite things. Of course, this list will exclude people. Otherwise, both lists would probably include nothing but people. Ha ha. Oh, and I am making a new promise to not rant about graduate school for a while. I know I've got it good, and I don't want to seem ungrateful. I just couldn't resist posting that quote today.

Ok, so this is my second stab at the blog thing. I've remembered my sign in name. I've remembered my password. So, now I can start letting people know my thoughts on everything. Prepare to be enlightened. First, I have to say that I don't like my blog background. It's annoying. I like only two blog backgrounds out of the all the choices they give. The only problem is that my two friends, Anne and Laura, have the two backgrounds that I like. I don't want to be a copy cat, so I'm stuck with the annoying dots.

Well, if you don't know me, I'm not sure why you're reading my blog. However, I'll give a little background information just in case. I'm 24 and I just got married this May. Four days after the wedding my husband, David, and I took a two month honeymoon to Italy and Greece. It was a fantastic trip and was had some great experiences. Now that we're home we are flat broke, and it's three weeks until we get paid. We won't have to go to soup kitchens, but we will have to tighten the belt. I think the trip was worth it though.

Ok, so I mentioned that we get paid, so you might be wondering where it is that we work. Well, David and I have two jobs each, but they are essentially the same jobs. We are both TA's in the Classics department at Purdue. I teach Latin and David teaches Greek. We are also writing lab tutors at Ivy Tech. Because we are TA's, that also means that we are full-time graduate students at Purdue. We are both in the snooty English department where everyone thinks they are God's gift to erudite scholarship. They are not. Neither are we, but the difference is that we have never claimed to be. Oh, that and we aren't jerkfaces about every little thing. I am in the Comparative Literature field and my husband is in English Linguistics. There are some good people in both departments, but they seem to be the exception to the jerkface rule.

David and I live next door to our Good friends Anne and Peter Neulieb. Anne is the one who encouraged me to get this blog.

So there's my life right now. It's pretty good and I happen to like it a lot. I like to tell stories and also like to rant. That is probably what this blog will be mostly comprised of. Yeah, I did just end a sentence in a preposition. I think for my next post I will give a top ten best and worst things I like in the whole world.