the world is your acorn

I just went to observe a high school math class for a course that I’m taking. This happened to me last spring too, but jeeze, I really do miss being in the classroom.

I went to a skating rink today to do some observations for a class that I’m in. The assignment was to go watch some learning take place. My little team of three chose to watch ice skaters. After we observed for a while we rented skates and jumped in on the free skating session. It was pretty fun, even if the rented skates were cruddy and the ice was horrible.

I haven’t been on ice skates in about ten years. I used to ice skate once or twice a week, starting at around 4 years old. There was a pond in our neighbor’s backyard, but we also had classes at the University ice skating rink. My dad, brother and I all did it together. Eventually classes became private lessons with a coach, which became performing. Which was awful.

I was a shy kid, extremely self-conscious with low self-esteem. When my mom finally let my hair grow longer than the bowl cut I sported for the first 6 years of my life I generally wore it draped over my face so I could feel more invisible. So ice skating was not a very good match for me. During practice sessions I was afraid to practice because I didn’t want people to see how bad I was. Which meant I never improved very much. My parents had always taught me to strive to be the best, but never stressed what had to be done to become the best. I always just thought you just were. And if you weren’t the best, then you tried to hide it. Or you quit.

Anyway, I really liked the athleticism of ice skating, and the momentum and the precision. I skated freestyle for a while, then switched to dance. That happened partially because my dad was switching to dance and I was really skating because he wanted me to. The other reason I switched to dance was because I was not getting better. I couldn’t land jumps because I was afraid to try and fail. Practicing dance patterns was much less conspicuous, and making mistakes while practicing was much less noticeable.

Eventually I stopped going with my dad. I did not enjoy it, I wasn’t getting better, and I hated that in order to be a skater you have to be a spectacle. You have to pick your head up and wave your arms around and smile. You wear tight outfits and short skirts and pretend you’re having a fabulous time. You have to be feminine and graceful and rhythmic and happy. I was shy and awkward and a tomboy who did not want to be noticed by anyone and afraid to make mistakes.

In a way I’m still that kid. Afraid to show weakness, too self-conscious to enjoy life a lot of the time. I don’t know how to get over that. Maybe that should be my resolution for the year, to work on it.

Sitting at the kitchen table today, pretending to get some work done, I looked out the window to see Oliver playing with another dog. In our fenced yard. For a while I thought my depth perception was just bad and they were playing on opposite sides of the far fence. But then Oliver clearly jumped on the other dog, and it rolled over onto its back.

So the astute reader should be asking right now, “How did the other dog get into the yard? Isn’t it fenced?” Yes. It is fenced. And the gate is always closed, since Oliver does not know how to “come” or “not run away” or “find his own way home.” There is a section of the back fence that has a big hole in it, and someone (before we bought the house) “patched” it with a piece of plywood and some other garbage. There didn’t seem to be space enough for a dog to fit through which is why we haven’t worried about it. But then today there was a dog in our yard, one who did not enter through the house or the gate.

The Little Red Haired Girl heard me arguing with myself about whether the dog was inside or outside the yard (and for a little while whether it was a cat or a dog). She laughed at me for a while, until I confirmed that it was definitely in. At which point she ran into the room, donned her duck boots, went outside, picked up the other dog, and dumped it over the side of the fence. If Oliver was sad about losing his new friend he made no sign.

Anyway, the fence has to be fixed. The Little Red Haired Girl threw some rocks in the hole, but we need to do something more permanent and less ugly. Add “new fence” to the home improvements list.

If, like me, you find it difficult to bear watching GWB speak for more than 6 seconds, here is something that might help you through the State of the Union Address tomorrow. Good Luck.

May through November, we get our vegetables from Bugtussle Farm. It’s an excellent variety of stuff, always fresh and delicious, and affordable. It comes out to about $18 a week for the two of us. It helps us to eat healthy and forces us to try new things since we have to find a way to eat whatever comes in the basket. We are total Bugtussle groupies, and encourage you to try it out too. If you order before February 1 you even get 2 weeks free!
Check it out – if you care where your food comes from and love vegetables, you won’t regret it.

via Gizmodo, Worth1000 just finished up a Photoshopping contest for Apple’s next product.

This morning The Little Red Haired Girl had to work, so I took the opportunity to do some of my chores, read for school, and make mac and cheese for lunch. That leaves me responsibility-free* for the rest of the day, so we are now camped out on the couch watching womens hoops/football, drinking beer, and eating carrots and dip. Well I’m doing those things, and The Little Red Haired Girl is waiting for a nap to happen to her.

There’s something really luxurious to me about the sounds of sports coming from the tv. I don’t have a regular sports-watching schedule or season or anything like that. Usually life is too filled with errands and schoolwork and housework and socializing to sit for the many hours it requires to properly get into tv-watching of sports. So hearing that background crowd noise and the drone of the announcers recalls for me some kind of balance, or peace, or leisure. Like a “I handled my shit and now I get to chill” kind of a satisfied feeling.

* Of course that really just means everything else I have to do can be put off until later.

So, I think I am developing a callous on the tip of my right index finger. Last week it started feeling kind of rough, and I couldn’t figure out why. What do I do with that fingertip that I don’t do with every other finger? I figured it out. It’s my trackpad finger. Apparently I am on my laptop so much that I’m developing callouses. And it’s not from school, because the new semester has barely just started. Should I be ashamed to admit that?

From mom today in response to receiving our holiday card and a question about buying Frontline online:

next year, pls dress oliver in Chinese costume..that would be very interesting. but pls let him run when you take picture. I like to see him flying in the air when he runs

I saw the front line ad in TV..will let you know when I see it again..I will google it then I will remember the name.

Just installed Parallels RC1 build 3120 and Windows XP on my li’l ol’ MacBook. It’s kinda magical. Not that there are really any Windows apps I want. I’m going to use OneNote for a while to take notes to see if I like it better than VoodooPad. Other than that, I’ve installed Lemonade Tycoon 2 for my time wasting pleasure. Not sure what else I’ll do with it.