$425.00 = A whole lot of frickin' work

I think the picture is self explanatory.

Real life is WAY overrated.

At the beginning of last semester I posted a blog about how some people think that grad school is like living safely in a bubble secure from real life. While during the actual semester, that's totally not the case, I'm pretty sure that I can say winter break has been very much like living in some bubble. Sporadically working, sleeping until 10 or 11, traveling hundreds of miles, hanging out with friends and family, and having the man around to distract me was very surreal. I knew it would all end eventually and I'd have to wake up and drag my butt off to work at the crack of dawn with the rest of the world, but I can't help but think how nice just one more day would have been. All morning long I've had Diamond Rio's One More Day With You stuck in my head. I'd have to agree with the song, one more day really would just leave me wishing for one more. I've been spoiled rotten and can't help but feel blessed. If the first few days are any indication of how this year is going to go, 2008 should be fantastic! I'm really going to enjoy working on my resolution this year!

Now Hiring

I often have business ideas pop into my head. Usually, they are for other people. I've actually found one that could entertain me. Worm the personal historian? As in, someone hires me, I write their history, publish it in some manner - video, book, website - and then get paid. Why on earth did I think of such a thing? I have a research seminar coming up this next semester and we get to research any topic of our choosing. My usual stubborn self wants to do something with the Korean War. So I decided to peruse the local history archive, the Colorado Historical Society, and the Denver Public Library to get a general idea of what primary source information is out there. Nadda. Zilch. None. Big Fat Goose Egg. Not only does that suck like a vacuum, but it's incredibly depressing. In my quirky little brain, red lights were flashing, and it was like "Hey, not fair, someone should do something about that." The rabbit trail began...first it was like, I could track down Korean War veterans to record their story, then it just snowballed into an all out, choose your own adventure, rent your own historian type of thing. So, if anyone out there cares to be my guinea pig, just let me know.

My managerial position is already taken. I'll probably need a fax machine. And a forklift. Why? I don't know, I've just always wanted one. Oh, and a personal jet too. Do you think it's too late to tell Santa?

101 in 1001

It's a bad thing to have time on my hands. As I was surfing the internet last night, I came across this Day Zero Project. Basically, the idea is that a person sets 101 goals to be completed in 1001 days, or a few months shy of 3 years. Reading up on some examples and what not, it was entertaining to see other people's lists and their goals. I particularly liked "Do a cartwheel, correctly" and "Color an entire coloring book." Most people know that I'm the procrastinator of all procrastinator's, but I can accomplish things when I set my mind to it. It would be more fun to suck some other people into this whole thing though. My powers of persuasion are at work...girlie girls?? You know you want to!

I'll keep thinking about it. Until then, I think I need some junk food or something to go along with this Christmas music that I'm listening to!

A new post and a new blog!

It's like Christmas or something, right? Not only am I back at the helm of Worm's Word following a mind numbing semester, but I just fired up a new blog. Why? Apparently, I have nothing better to do with my time. Please visit Worm's Eye View daily. For reals! Ultimately, you'll get a new photo everyday. Everyone out there that knows what a procrastinator I am can stop laughing now. I know it's a stretch, but you don't have to laugh at me! A girl can try, can't she?

As for the 3.5 month disappearance...it really needs no explanation. Although, had I kept at it, I'm sure I would have had some funny, dramatic, coffee-induced blogs along the way. Maybe next semester. The reading list for next semester should be a little shorter so that may help me out some. I can provide some highlights from fall semester though. (I realize "highlights" is an exaggeration. Work with me here.)

• Playing in cemeteries can be a lot of fun. It's not as creepy as most would think. It made me think about how cool genealogical work could be. Too bad I couldn't research my own family instead of 30 some people I really could care less about. Knowing that Arthur Takamine was the "Potato King" of Denver's Denargo Market and Tadaatsu Matsdaira was the first Japanese American in Colorado only serves to crown me champion of a local Jeopardy match.
  
• No matter what Gavin Menzies says, China did not discover America in 1421. His book, cleverly entitled 1421: The Year China Discovered America, is a farce. Complete bologna. Seriously, Oscar Mayer should hire the guy. The most entertaining 6 hours of the semester was ripping apart his book from the sources on up. It really drove home the fact that if you write well enough and "dumb" enough, the general public will believe anything you say.
• The West, as in America and Europe, is single-handedly to blame for the Middle East's, or the Orient's, inadequacy in modernizing, getting along, and generally, solving their own problems. For reals. An entire semester of beating that into my head - yeah, I didn't buy on day one, I still don't buy it 12 books later.
• The Civil War isn't over. The battle continues and reading about the wacky southerners and their ongoing obsession and misunderstanding of the Civil War was fascinating. Tony Horwitz's Confederate in the Attic was a fun read but also alarming. It's a tad scary to think that even today, there is still a large number of people that think the South should rise again. I'm not talking about Dukes of Hazard rednecks either. It's sad really. Ignorance is not bliss...it's pathetic.
• Grading sucks. If for some reason I ever consider being a teacher, someone slap me and remind me of the miserable hours upon hours that I spent grading undergraduate essays and exams. I fear for the future of this country.
  

Alrighty, I don't want to overdo it on my first day back! Comments are always welcome! After all, this thing doesn't pay any bills.

Mr. Rogers doesn't know squat.

Forget sweaters and trains and puppets (Someone was smoking something when they thought up that show), a cute dog is all one needs for a decent relationship with neighbors. Before Brinkley moved in, I knew of only Bob and Peggy Sue who share the same entryway cubby thing with me. For a year and half, I would have guessed it was just the three of us living in this huge complex because the place was like a ghost town. I never saw anyone else. Ever. In the month that I've had Brinkley I've realized that there is quite an eclectic mix of people that live in my complex.

Now I don't know names but people are recognizable and have been assigned descriptors until the day that I do learn their names.

• Tall Freaky Guy is always wearing headphones and leaves for work at 10:00 every night. He always says hi to Brinkley and gives him a pat on the head when he walks past. Tall freaky man returns at about 5:45 in the morning. He always says hi to Brinkley when he walks past and gives him a pat on the head.
  
• Old Business Man leaves for work at 7:30 in the morning. He must not like dogs because he never says hi to Brinkely but says hi to me. We have a cordial "Good morning" exchange and he continues on to the parking lot. I then wonder what he thinks about my pajamas. If I had my glasses on maybe I could read his expression.
  
• Red Headed Younger Business Man walks a black lab through Brinkley's territory every other morning or so. He's not nice, nor his dog. Maybe if he had a nice dog like Brinkley, he'd be nicer. Or maybe he just doesn't like my pajamas.
• Spotty Dog Lady is Brinkley's favorite. I know this because every time she says Hi, he pees. She loves Brinkley because he reminds her of the spotted dog from children's books that climbs under fences.
  
• Then there's the Smoker. He introduced himself once but I forgot his name. He lives at the opposite end of the building and is always out on his patio smoking. He always calls Brinkley a she and I in a very creepy way, hits on me. I don't much care for him.
  
• Springer Man is the nicest because he thinks I'm the Dog Whisperer or something. He walks his springer spaniel by every few days. He's always very impressed at how well behaved Brinkley is and says that I must be really good with him if he acts so well at such a young age.
  

I'm thinking of dressing Brinkley up and taking him around for trick-or-treating. Maybe he could snag us a few Snickers with his cuteness. Yes, I'm perfectly fine with exploiting my dog for the purpose of chocolate consumption!

Who doesn't love history?

As I was leaving class yesterday and walking out of the classroom building, I passed a class that was still in lecture. It had a powerpoint presentation of some sort. Long steps on how to do some equation or something. I had to chuckle to myself because I thought about how boring that must be day in and day out given the conservations that had just occurred in my Material Culture class. We had been discussing how changes in material culture can reflect larger changes in society. Our area of focus was the eve of the American Revolution when there was an increase an individualization. Houses got bigger because people wanted their own rooms and privacy. Ceramics flourished because instead of sharing one trough for food, people got their own place settings. Lots of things we take for granted today were just developing then. The professor told a story about working at Colonial Williamsburg and how they have butt scrapers as some of the material culture there. Butt scrapers being just that, rudimentary, reuseable toilet paper. Butt scrapers were chunks of bone with each person's named scratched on them... because of course, you wouldn't want to use someone else's butt scraper. It's hard to believe that everyone doesn't want to major in History with stories like that circulating in class. I know I'll never quite look at toilet paper the same way ever again!