Shutter Island

So the fiance and I saw Shutter Island last night, which was AWESOME! I freakin' love Leo and when he and Martin get together to make a flick, it seems like nothing can go wrong. I loved the old Hollywood style of filming and the 1950s detective lingo. The camera angles and set were perfection. Although I sort of figured out what the ending was about 3/4 into the movie, but it was still so good! It kept me thinking and hoping that my prediction was wrong up until the very end. I sat for a moment, feeling empty as I always do after an exceptional movie, and thought about how freaky it would be to be investigating what Leo's character had to in the film. I mean, spending three days at a mental hospital like that would probably turn even the sanest person somewhat nuts. Great movie.

On a completely different note, I ordered the rest of the paper mache boxes to finish my DIY card box sometime in the next two weeks. Stay tuned for pictures and instructions on that... Also, in the past 24 hours, I believe that I have eaten almost 800 calories in Double-Stuffed Oreos. This wouldn't be so disappointing to me had I not just gone down from a size 4 to a size 2 pant. I must not fall off the wagon. I must resist the siren's call and do NOT give-in to the beautiful, chocolaty, cream-filled wonder screaming my name one floor below...

I just might explode...

Yes, this statement is true. What with the wedding plans that never seem to get done, my puppy getting sick, my fiance not wanting to watch said sick puppy while I am at work and he is not, and student teaching on top of it, I feel like my life is rolling into one, big, giant, clusterfuck. All of this stress is building and building, and someday, it must go somewhere. I pity the fool who is around me when I blow.

I am one of those people who holds things in... and holds them in... and holds them in... until the lid can't stay on anymore and I literally explode. I can only take so many people telling me what to do or offering their "suggestions" on things in my life. I don't get mad often; I get upset a lot and bottle it up, pretending like it won't be there later. The mad happens after weeks or months of upset and triggered by one, cataclysmic event, and then BOOM! I blow like Mount Saint Helen. *End rant.

On a lighter note, this weekend I am hoping to accomplish several wedding-related things, like scheduling my first dress fitting to find out how fat I've gotten since last September. Also, I will hopefully be ordering the bits and pieces needed to begin my DIY invitations (updates on those as they come). And, with any luck, my minuscule tax return will come in the mail and I will be able to afford fiance's wedding band. Sometimes it's the little things in life that have to make you happy.

The Language Barrier

So, aside from student teaching 8+ hours Monday-Friday, I also coach a swim team and teach swim lessons at a local health club during the week. I may sound like a bit of a workaholic, but that's only because I am.

There's one thing that you need to understand about the health club where I work: it is located across the street from an apartment complex, more of a village really, that is home to just about every Middle Eastern immigrant in our town. These are nice apartments and whatnot; they just happen to be located across from the health club, so a high percentage of our members hail from said apartment village and speak very little English. Now, I have absolutely nothing against immigrants of any kind. Let me repeat: I am not prejudice to any race of people.

I have one student in a private lesson with me that is about five, and his parents are immigrants from somewhere in the Middle East. They are very nice people and so obviously want their child to succeed in swimming lessons. However, I cannot understand hardly anything this kid says to me! I can understand his parents clear as day, but when he talks, it's as good as gibberish to me. His mom has told me that they speak their native language in the home, and since the kid does not go to school yet, he knows very limited English. But apparently he loves Finding Nemo. The English that this kid knows is almost all based-off of the beloved Disney-Pixar masterpiece about that cute orange clown fish and his hard-ass father, the absent-minded blue fish played by Ellen, and Bruce, the hyper-masculine, steroid-taking, Australian shark.

Yet, somehow, this kid can hold a conversation with me using only lines from Finding Nemo. I ask him if he wants to jump in, and his reply is: "Good afternoon! We're gonna have a great jump today!" (also said by Squirt, the baby turtle offspring of Crush) The diving board has been so lovingly renamed "Mount Wanna-hock-a-loogie." When I ask if he wants to kick with a noodle, he replies: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."

This is not a joke, people. This poor kid is going to go to kindergarten and know absolutely nothing except how old sea turtles are.

I know, you know, gyno

So, as women, we all know how awkward the annual trip to the "lady doctor" can be. Besides the obvious, it's always strange when someone tries to make small talk with you when she's got her fingers half-way up your you-know-what checking out you-know-where. Enough said.

Weddings!? I love weddings!

Drinks all around! Maybe.

To have an open bar or to not have an open bar: that is the question. The fiance and I would much prefer the open bar at our reception, especially since most of our friends who will be at the wedding enjoy a good drink on occasion (especially when it's free). But open bars are expensive. I mean, we're talking a few grand. An hour of open bar is included in our venue package price, but that's only during the cocktail hour. However, I think it's kind of rude to ask your guests to come celebrate with you and not provide them with any beverages to really get the party started. If fiance's sister's wedding three years ago is any testament, an open bar WILL get the party started (and keep it going until 1/2 the bridal party winds up with their heads in the toilet).

Also, there will be (as of now) 4 known recovering alcoholics in attendance. Talk about the forbidden fruit dilemma. But I'm 100% German--yup, 100%--and so is my family. All of my family's happiest and saddest moments have involved heavy alcohol consumption; it's kind of sad, but true. What can I say, Germans like to drink! It's almost blasphemous to not have an open bar at a wedding that will include 2/3 of the guests in the 100% German category, right?

Fiance and I need to decide about the open bar within the next week or so in order to know more about our budget. Maybe a nice, stiff drink will help me with my decision.

We're dropping out into the so unknown

Ten bonus points and a free margarita if you can name the song and artist of the above lyric!

So today was one of those kind of days; I don't really know what makes a day one of those kind kind, but you know--those kind, the kind everybody goes home from work and complains about. Now, I don't want this to turn into Bitchfest 2010, so I'll do my best to keep it as far away from that as possible.

It was one of those kind of days for no reason in particular. The students were a little crazier than usual, but what should I expect when you lock 92 eighth graders up all day long and ask them to participate in guided discussions about The Outsiders, build bridges, and do math problems? There were a few students that drove me up the wall, but nothing out of the norm.

What I think really made this day one of those kind of days was when my fiance told me that he was posting for more jobs. I should be thinking, "Yay! More jobs! Then we won't be poor come August!" However, he's worked at State Farm in the claims department part-time for about 4 years now. The company paid to put him through school, so we were fairly confident that, come his graduation last December, he would get a full-time position fairly quickly. Now, it's the middle of February and after applying for three jobs in the company, he only got one interview, but no jobs. *Sad face. I know that you maybe it's a little wishful thinking, but I like to fantasize.

But, in spite of that little voice in the back of my head screaming at me to start freaking out, I am doing my best to maintain a positive attitude about the situation. There are people in much worse situations than we are. I mean, I should just be thankful that both fiance and I are/will-soon-be college graduates with part-time jobs. Some people don't even have that. Plus, I've applied for two jobs and gotten two interviews, so I must look good on paper; I haven't heard back about those jobs yet, but it's only been a week. And, since I am an anal planner and future-seer: yes, it is driving me crazy to just let fate take its rocky and somewhat unsure course, but maybe the unknown won't be so bad.

Heck, since I'm being all optimistic, maybe the future holds me marrying Johnny Depp, swimming with sharks off the coast of South Africa, and winning American Idol. Hey, it doesn't hurt to dream.

Valentine's Day

So Valentine's Day is traditionally the day for women to be smothered by love from their men. It sounds fabulous, doesn't it? Getting gifts, flowers, and chocolate for a commercial holiday created to make money for Hallmark and jewelery companies, that's the way to show true love, right? Now, as cynical as I may sound, I tend to really enjoy Valentine's day because it's always pretty fun and romantic. My fiance and I don't usually go all-out or anything, but we do get a nice dinner and buy each other a simple gift or two. It is also the one day of the year that he will take me to a chick flick on his own free will.

We celebrated Valentine's Day last night, as I have to get up early on Monday morning for work. This was our fifth Valentine's Day together, and our only one as an engaged couple. I don't know if we've just ran out of mushy-gooshy things to say to each other or if the stress of almost being married is just becoming too much for us, but I found it kind of hard to get into the romantic mood this year. I don't know why; this was the first day in over two years that he bought me flowers, we watched a romantic comedy (Couples Retreat, which I fully recommend), I got some small diamond earrings, which will look amazing with my wedding dress come August (so another check down!)--in short, he did everything right. We both wanted this Valentine's Day to be really special because of of it's label as our only "engageged Valentine's Day," but all the trying and planning to make it amazing made it feel like an effort to be romantic rather than just a naturally romantic date night as it usually is.

I've heard of some couples not doing Valentine's Day at all, and declaring some other random day of the year as "Us Day," which is basically the Valentine's Day equivalent without the commerical label and pressure to impress your significant other. Maybe after five years of togetherness, Bobby and I should try something like this to add a little more "spark" to a day that's sort of been ruined for us by the pressure to feel romantic. The night ended in kisses and smiles, but it didn't feel as fulfilling as usual for some reason.

Sorry for a bit of depressingness and lack of humor on this one; it's just what I'm thinking at the moment, which is really what a blog's about I guess.

What's in a name?

So today at work I was discussing with several of my co-workers the idea of a pen name. Recently, my creative writing teacher told me that if I get published, I may want to consider writing under a pen name because most Middle School parents might not appreciate my writing style and wonder if I am exposing their children to my writing. I think that he has a valid point, but whenever I think of a possible pen name, it sounds so corny and non-realistic. Granted, I could just go by my first and middle initials and my last name, but I feel like that's a bit of a cop-out.

One of my coworkers suggested using my stripper name. My stripper name? What did he think I was--a dancer by night? "I... don't have a... stripper name?" was my reply. "No, no," he said, "you take the name of your first pet and the street name that you lived on when you had that pet. So my name would be Sunny Rainbow." Hah, pretty good stripper name, but a bit cliche. "Oh, okay," I said, "I'd be Meesha Thrush." That got a few chuckles. I can picture the book tour posters now: 'Meesha Thrush, author of such classics as When Your Pants Catch Fire and I Once Choked On a Hairball, will be visiting Barnes & Noble this Friday from 8-11am for a book signing followed by a brief reading of her award winning story Periods, Penis Diagrams, and the Anatomy of an Orgasm.' Because if the titles of my story collections do not catch the readers' attention, my Playboy-esk name sure as hell will.

We all started shouting out our possible porn star names, but none of them were perfect. Spot Twelveth. Maddie Browning. Forcible Robin Hood. No, none of these were as good as the name my current neighbor can have: Sassy Minx. Yes, Sassy Minx. It's perfect, not for an author, but she's a good looking kid, so I'm sure that Hugh Heffner wouldn't mind adding her to the mix when she hits eighteen in five years.

Then we got on the subject of taking the first two letters of your first name and combining them with the first two letters of your last name. This gave me the name: Aler. That just makes me think of a Medieval warrior. "Aler, son of Hrothgar, son of Beowulf, son of Aragorn, ruler of Gondor, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England." You know, Beowulf, Lord of the Rings, and Monty Python all rolled into one. Nobody else's name sparked the kind of interest that mine did.

Ultimately, I decided on keeping my real name. Maybe I'll think of a good pen name later on in life if it gets to that point, but for now I'm not a big deal, so my name'll do just fine.

Skip the awkward shower scene and get to the good stuff

Oooooh yeah... I feel like there should be some racy music and a strip tease following a header like that. Got your attention though, right?

I started this blog a while ago for a class last spring, and then it kind of tapered off when summer got too busy to keep up. So I deleted some previously posted crap that was for my class and... voila! Conclusion: I have decided to restart my blog, mainly because I have an insane love for writing and language. I enjoy making others laugh, which hopefully I can do for you. At times, my humor may be a bit racy, but, hey, maybe that's your thing. Also, I'd like somewhere to write about life and my upcoming nuptials where others might find things as amusing as I do.

I am wildly dependent on Johnny Depp, wine (okay, maybe not "wildly" for this one, but I do enjoy a nice glass of Moscato every now and then), LOST, Gardettos, good jokes, and coffee (specifically Starbucks, but who's picky?).

So sit back and enjoy the ride!