Why I Love my Job

I think I've mentioned before that I work for a college. It's the same college where I went to school. I just came here and, well, never left. It wasn't that I didn't *try* to leave, it just worked out that I got a job here. But I am so glad I did.

The best years of my life were spent here as a student. It's where I made most of the friends I still have, it's where I met my husband, it's where I really think I became the person I am today. I love being able to walk around campus, where nostalgia lies around every corner. Sometimes I'll go into a building or walk down a certain sidewalk and the memories come flooding back.....I love that. Not everyone is so lucky to work in a place they love so much.

When I got the job, I remember telling a friend of mine who had been my roommate in college. Her reply was, "You can't stay there forever. You have to enter the *real world* at some point." I have come to the conclusion that is not true. I don't want to be part of the *real world* (whatever that means--and yes, working in academia is much different than working in some corporate job....I know that now.) So I choose to stay here. Everyone talks so much about how hard the "real world" is....so why not stay here? It's safe and cozy here and they do give me a paycheck to be here, after all. So why not? Who needs the "real world" anyway?

Life's Been Good to Me So Far...

Kinda showing my age a little with that title, but either you get it or you don't. I ran into an old friend of mine in the parking lot of a store last night. She's a sweet person, always has been. But, I realized, as I listened to her go on and on about all the tradgedies she's had in the last fifteen years, that life's been good to me... so far. I've had very few truly bad things happen. I have a family unit that is close and supportive. I have a wonderful husband and beautiful children. My lifestyle affords me the opportunity to stay home with my children. I've got it pretty good. Am I rolling in dough? Absolutely not. Financially, things are tight. But, they are do-able. Yep, I've got it pretty darn good. I just need to remember that sometimes when I get irritated with life. I can't complain, really. So, thanks, Life, for treatin' me right.

Happy birthday, Toni!

Just wanted to post and say a big happy birthday to my blogging buddy. Hope you have a wonderful day!

To the moon, Mama

My son is going to be an astronaut someday, I just know it. He loves the moon. He gets so excited when he sees it in the sky. When we go outside, the first thing he does is look up, trying to find the moon (and if he can't find it, he says "Moon hiding!") His favorite books are books about the moon. ("Goodnight Moon" by Margaret Wise Brown and "Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me" by Eric Carle).

But it doesn't stop there. He knows the names of the planets, too. He has a place-mat that has all the planets and he knows their names and can point most of them out when we ask him to. He also likes stars. And his latest thing is pretending about outer space. He will play with his toys and pretend like they are flying through the air to outer space. His favorite is Elmo in a boat, which is a bath toy--he zooms little Elmo around the house in his boat, and says "Elmo go outer-pace!" over and over. It's the cutest thing.

Maybe I should start saving money now to take him on one of those tourist space flights. Or at least a really good telescope.

When did I get old?

It hit me today. I am old. Whether I like it or not, I am old. Yeah, yeah, plenty of people will tell you that 30 isn't old. There are also people who say that 40, 50 and 60 aren't old either. (If that's the case, when are you considered "old?" 70? 80? Never?)

I saw this story today: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19165433/

That's right, folks. "Baby Jessica" happened 20 years ago. 20. TWENTY. And I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember being glued to my TV with my parents, watching that news coverage, hoping and praying that she would be OK. I remember crying a little when they got her out. I remember the cheesy TV movie that came later.

I think the reason this is getting me to more than other anniversaries of major media events I've witnessed during my life is that I remember this one so clearly. And I do not *feel* like I should be old enough to remember and event from 20 years ago in such detail. It just does not seem like 20 years should have lapsed between then and now. I hope the next 20 years does not go by as fast, but I have a feeling--if the past 2 years are any indication--that it will go a LOT faster.

Domo arigato, Kiddo Roboto

Japanese researchers have built a robot that acts like toddler to use in studying child development:

http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/06/08/toddler.robot.ap/index.html

I have a few questions about this, not the least of which is: why not study real, live children to learn about child development?

And how realistic is this thing? Does it run away from you, laughing and saying "NO!" when you try to get it to comply with your instructions? Does it throw stuff, especially stuff that is not intended for throwing? Does it dramatically lay down in the floor and wail if it can't have yet another puch of Finding Nemo Fruit Snacks? Does it insist on watching the same episode of "Little Einsteins" or "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" over and over ad nauseum? Does it pick its nose and hand you the boogers? (which, though gross, is better than eating them...) Does it fight and kick and scream getting into the bathtub, but then fight and kick and scream when it's time to get out?

No? Well, then....IMO, it does not act like a toddler. Those scientsts need to get back to the drawing board.

Why most of my friends are men

There's one thing I hate about women. And I don't mean to lump all women together, but the majority of them are the same way. Women are two-faced. Backstabbers. If you are a woman, and you're not like this, then good for you. But the chances are, if you are a woman, you are exactly like this. I can't stand it. I hate the way women treat each other. They will say one thing to your face and the complete opposite behind your back. What's the point in that? I am not like this. I will tell you what I think of you just as easily as I will tell anyone else what I think of you. That's not to say that I just run around telling people off all the time. I don't. But, if you are my friend and you are messing up, I'm gonna tell you about it. I'm not gonna tell you how bad I feel about your situation and commiserate with you, only to go back to all my other friends and tell them what an idiot I think you are. Or what mistakes I think you've made. "But, Toni," you're saying to yourself, "why would you want to hurt someones feelings like that?" Well, let me ask you a question. Which is gonna hurt you more, your friend telling you that you're messing up, or someone else telling you that your friend told everyone but you that you were messing up? I would imagine it would be the latter of the two. And, of course, you'd say "well, why didn't you just tell me that's how you felt?" But you don't mean it. Because if your friend actually did get the nerve up to tell you what she thought, you'd say "oh, I understand" or "I see your point" or "you're right" and then go behind her back and smear her name all over the place. So, you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. I can't take it anymore. I can't take being made out to be the bad guy or the "bitch", if you will, simply because I'm not a two-faced, backstabbing ass. Women are petty. They are catty. They are jealous and spiteful creatures. Most women don't have the self-esteem that God gave a goose. If you are one of the lucky ones who has your self-esteem and self respect in tact, watch your back. Cause any moment now, there's gonna be a knife headed right for it. Men have many, many faults, but this is not one of them. At least, not on the grand scale that it is for women.

I'd love to say that, from now on, I will do just as every woman does. I will smile pleasantly and sympathetically to your face, and the minute your back is turned I will rip you to shreds. But, I can't do it. I just can't. I just don't have it in me to be that way. And that's saying a lot, because I can be horribly evil. But, even evil has a code. That behavior isn't evil, it's pathetic. It's sad. Because all it really says about you is that you have no strength of your convictions. You have no faith in your own thoughts. You are sad and pathetic and don't have the balls to tell the world what you think. You're so unsure of yourself that you can't even convince you that you might be right, or at the very least, that your thoughts are valid.

It's a sad statement on society. What have parents done to these girls? Why don't they think that they are good enough, or smart enough or even pretty enough? So, ladies, I have only one message for you. Stand up and be yourself. Speak your mind and say "to hell with anyone who doesn't like it." Why do you care what other people think? If they don't like you for who you really are, then fuck them. Or is the problem that you're so insecure that even you don't like who you are, so how could anyone else? Grow a set of balls, find your self-worth. That's why most of my friends are men.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...or is it?

Growing up, we knew everyone in our neighborhood. I had tons of friends to play with--just go outside on any given day and I could find a kid close to my age. We would play a lot of sports together or sometimes we would play massive neighborhood-wide games of Hide & Seek or Capture the Flag. It was the best. I would take off on my bike and ride around the neighborhood--I would be gone for hours and my parents never really knew where I was, but it didn't seem to matter. As long as I reappeared back home for meals, they didn't seem to mind or get worried about it.

My child will not grow up that way. Things are just different today. For one thing, the national sex offender registry has opened my eyes to the fact that there are at least 3 registered sex offender living just miles from my house--one of them lives exactly .3 miles, according to Mapquest. So for that reason alone, I would not allow him to run around unsupervised the way I used to.

The other reason is that we just don't know everyone. The house we are in now is the first house we bought. I was so excited to move in, thinking that neighbors would show up to greet us with baked goods or at least a friendly hello, the way it used to happen in the neighborhood where I grew up. No one did that. No one came to welcome us. We did eventually meet our immediate neighbors (next door and across the street), but those are the only ones we know....with the exception of one couple down the street whom we happen to bump into on walks sometimes. Maybe we should make more of an effort to introduce ourselves around to people...but the neighborhood just doesn't seem very conducive to that. We rarely see people out walking around or in their yards. And no one seems to have kids--I see the swing sets and sandboxes, but I rarely see kids using them. And there are definitely not many kids my son's age (2), as far as I can tell. There was one family with a little girl around his age down the street...but soon after we met them, there was a for-sale sign on their lawn and they were gone. Most of our neighbors are card-carrying members of the AARP.

It makes me sad that my son will not grow up the same way I did--that he will not experience those care-free days running around in the woods or biking around the neighborhood. Maybe we should have done more research and looked for a neighborhood with younger families...but our son was not even a twinkle in my eye at that point, so we didn't really think about that when we were house hunting.

I guess we'll just have to settle for scheduled play-dates and structured activities such as soccer or tee-ball. I just hope all of that is enough to make his childhood as happy as mine was.

Slow suicide

This weekend I traveled to visit my father-in-law in the hospital. He just had lung sugery to fix complications related to his emphysema. He's doing well--recovering very quickly after the surgery. Hopefully the surgery will keep his lungs from collapsing (as had happened three times in the past) and will improve his quality of life. Unfortunately, though, he will never be well again.....he'll always be on oxygen as his lungs continue to become less and less functional.

This frustrates me to no end because it was something he did to himself. My father-in-law has smoked since he was 10 years old--for 50 years of his life. And now he's paying for it. I feel certain he will not live to see my son's 10th birthday. Maybe not even his 5th birthday. He was diagnosed with emphysema five years ago--but he didn't quit smoking until this past Nov. And that has been a marvelous feat. I think his fear of lighting up with a tank of oxygen next to him had more to do with him quitting than anything else. But I don't care--as long as he can keep it up. He'll never be cured, but not smoking can definitely extend his life and make things a little better.

I don't get smoking. And I'm not trying to be preachy here--I don't have anything against smokers. Whatever floats your boat. I just don't have any grasp of how strong that addiction can be for some people. I don't really understand why people start smoking in the first place......especially knowing what we know now about how bad it is for you. I know peer pressure has a lot to do with it for some people. I never felt that. I was scared to death to smoke. The pictures of the black nasty lungs made an impression on me, I guess. Also, watching my two great-uncles die from smoking-related throat cancer was a good reality check, too. Oh yeah......and my aunt who died of lung cancer. But she wasn't the smoker--her husband was (and still is, as far as I know).

My father-in-law has lived through a lot. He ran away from home at 16, lied about his age and joined the Army and went to Vietnam. He served three tours of duty. He has four Purple Hearts for being wounded in combat. He survived being shot three times and being hit with a hand granade. A freaking hand granade. He survived all of that, but all the while, he's been killing himself slowly......with his damn cigarettes. And that makes me sad.

It's that time...

Hurricane season. Already we've had two named storms. This does not bode well for the rest of the season. I don't mind a hurricane, really. A nice category one can actually be quite refreshing. It cleans out the trees, provides much needed rain, and just gives you a gentle reminder that no matter who you are, Mother Nature is still in charge. It's the larger ones that I don't like. But, I'm sure there are very few people who look forward to a major hurricane. But, at the moment, the little tropical storm/depression that came through Florida was very welcome. We need the rain desperately. I don't know anyone who wasn't happy about it. And I'd like to see maybe one or two more - and soon.

What I am not looking forward to is the panic that ensues when a hurricane is announced. The panic that is caused, largely, by the media here. They flip out. They start getting an almost excited tone to their voice. They continually play out the "worst case" scenarios. And what happens? Those who are "new" to the state start to flip. They rush out and buy every bottle of water they can find, they fill up their gas tanks and keep them full to the top. They buy every single item that the media says they might need. Now, those of us who are REAL Floridians, don't panic. But, we know that if we want to have water, or gas, or food, that we have to run, not walk, to the store because of all the northerners who don't know any better. Then, it just makes the situation that much worse. I'm sure I'll have the opportunity to delve into this in much greater detail later in the summer, so I'll save that for later. But, for those of us who have lived here all our lives, hurricane season can be a welcome break from the terrible drought we're experiencing right now.

I have a confession to make...

I hate flip-flops. There, I said it. I work on a college campus and everywhere I go, no matter what time of year it is, I see flip-flops. Girls wear nice skirts....with flip-flops. A boy will be dressed to the nines from the ankle up, but his shoes? Flip-flops. No matter what some 19-year-old will tell you, flip-flops are not appropriate footwear for every situation. Even if they have sequins and sparkles....they're still flip-flops. Sure, they're great to wear to the beach or when you're just bumming around the house. But when did they become such a staple of so many people's wardrobes? I see these kids wearing flip-flops in the dead of winter--sweaters and gloves on with flip-flops. Maybe you wouldn't be quite so cold if you had something on your feet!

I don't even think flip-flops are very comfortable. I've tried to wear them--I really have. As a Parrothead, it is part of the "uniform." But I hate them. I hate the way that thong part feels in between my toes. It hurts and I can never get used to it. So I choose to wear other, more comfortable sandals...in the summer.....and not when I'm wearing my Sunday best.

I was in a department store one day a few months ago. Standing in line to check out, a teenage girl was with her mom. The mom commented that some socks were on sale and asked if the girl would like to take a look at them. The girl rolled her eyes, heaved a big sigh, and said, "Mom.....I don't *wear* socks." Don't wear socks? Who doesn't need socks? Even if you do wear flip-flops most of the time, don't your feet ever get cold? Don't you ever feel the need to cover them? Are we destined to become a sock-less society? I certainly hope not. That's not the kind of world I want my child to grow up in.