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Archive for May, 2008

What a long month.  Cleaning the house.  Getting rid of things.  Planning a garage sale.  Grandpa in the hospital.  Fighting with the doctor (go Mom!).  To be mentored, or not to be mentored?  Great Plains Theatre Conference.  Family.  Friends.  Lack of sleep.  Finished one novel, returned to look at the one I started last summer when everything went to heck.  Hadn’t heard from my University in two months… so I raised some heck finally.  Evil Dawn popped up.  She ain’t gonna sit pretty no more!  Kicked a single mom out of the library–Mwuhaha!  Been standing up beneath the oppression.  No more! 

So my mentor has repeatedly told me that she’s sorry for me… because of Women’s Lib.  If it weren’t for Women’s Lib, women would be treated as queens, and men would be in their place and respectful.  If it weren’t for Women’s Lib, I would be barefoot and preggie and writing at home while the kidlets sleep.  (Yeah, right.)  I’d have a man taking care of me. 

Yes, but, life back then wasn’t all rosy.  Maybe she didn’t know about the women who were abused, because it was so much easier for the abuser to hide his little head and do things in private.  The woman wouldn’t have been allowed to get a degree, unless it was Nursing or teaching. 

I like Betty Friedan! 

Anyway, we’ll see how things go with my mentor… Any time you’re told to put down the hammer… you start thinking, is she right? Do I suck so badly?  Or is she just missing the fact that I’ve been working as a writer for some time now?  That I’m not ten years old?  Or, because I haven’t been published, should I put down the hammer and start over?

Either way, perhaps I should attempt to get some great quality out there.  Somewhere.  Where????

And if I don’t hear from my University soon, I’ll be kicking some ass.

night,

evil dawn

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Uh oh.

Major uh oh.

Double major.  (I’m actually swearing in my head.  And I don’t do that.)

Until two weeks ago, my cousin was going to sublet.  She was going to find a roomie.  And things were going to be hunky doory while I flitted off to get my Master’s.  But she’s just informed me that when her lease is up, she will either stay in her high-rent appartment, or, if she has to move, not to a house… she’s sick of moving.  And since her lease would be up ealier than I would go… neither one of us would really care to live with the other. 

Now what?  For her, I’d rent her my house, because I trust her daddy to fix anything she breaks, for what I’m paying, which is a very decent rate, especially split with a roomie.  But to rent it for real… I almost might as well sell.  I have this shuddery feeling that if I were to rent it, I’d come back to find a hole in the ground, filled with slugs. 

I like my house.  Verily.  It’s a cool house, and I’ve fixed it up nice.  My dad and I installed ceiling fans.  Put a new roof on.  Redid the bathroom.  Painted.  It’s a nice house.  The floors need buffing, but other than that, it’s cool.  Old electric, old plumbing, so what.  Slug issues in the yard, but I’ve done a good job there.  Nice garden area.  I could probably get out what I paid for it, but the housing market sucks.

Two options: rent or sell??  If I sell, I probably wouldn’t come straight back to Omaha.  I’d have more options.  I could try to find a job elsewhere.  If I rent it… then what?  Hell on Earth erupts through the hole they’ll put in my walls?  The neighbor children will attack and kill everyone on the block?  Put my sprinkler and my nonworking lamp in storage…

Sheesh.  Back to the first issue I had before I applied to school.  And for the past nine months, someone’s been begging me to leave so she could have my house… suddenly she changed her mind.  Well, well, well.  Isn’t that just peachy?

night,

dawn

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Thank you, Reuters

“England is an irritating and insular country full of overweight, binge-drinking, reality TV addicts, a new guide warns tourists.”  Thank you, Reuters!  Sounds just like America… perhaps I’ll fit in, after all.

night,

dawn

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I must brush up on my French.  We’ve been perusing a bit of Pat and Stanley, a French cartoon, which is tres hilareux.  My French is a bit… how you say… rusty.  Malheureux!  Je suis tres desole, mais je suis oublieux.  Pouvre Madame Tentinger!  Elle serait triste si elle connais ma memoire mauvaise.  Boo hoo, boo hoo. 

Once upon a time at work, this French doctor lost her wallet in the parking lot, and one of our kind and sensitive students brought it to us.  We tracked her down and called.  “Hello, is this…–?  Well, you’ve lost your wallet.”  Click.  She hung up!  So we called back.  “Ma’am, you’ve lost your wallet. It has your ID and your medical license.”  “Non, non, au revoir.”  Click.  And my co-worker said unto me, “She keeps hanging up and speaking French, and I don’t know French.”

So I found her temporary e-mail address for while she was practicing medicine here, and I e-mailed her in my pouvre Francais, in a very cheesy manner… And I laughed and laughed as I muddled through what I wanted to say.  Then I wrote it out in English, too, in case she could read the language she couldn’t speak.  It took nearly an hour to polish my brilliant message, but the next day, lo and behold, she showed!  And took her wallet.  And disappeared. 

But I like language, so I thoroughly enjoyed writing to her. 

I’m afraid that when it came down to reading the marriage licenses and death certificates and obituaries we found for my great-grand’s, or great-greats…. that I was less help.  Czech, or Bohemian, because they actually came from Bohemia, rather than Czechoslovakia, is very much unlike English/Latin/French!  Perhaps if I had taken German… but I found last summer than many English words have German roots.  But if I ever want to go to Prague, I will need to try to figure out Czech… too bad we don’t know for sure if we have any relatives still there. Some of my great-great’s sisters didn’t come over, mostly the brothers, so we know there are still relatives there, we just don’t know who… and as we tried to figure out who our immediate cousins were, I cannot pronounce any of their names!  Great aunt Anne Zaloudek (pronounced with a J) and then there are the Nachasels… or however one writes that (No-ko-zell)… three women named Lillian, three Franks, six Johns, a couple James’, two Emmas, two Bessies… These people really needed to be more creative with their names.  Frank married Bessie, and their first two children, they named–of course–Frank and Bessie.  (Thankfully Bessie didn’t marry a Frank, or I’d have run screaming from the house in Clutier, into the snow big as sheep, and never returned.)

night,

dawn

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Speak and ye shall be heard by ye olde fed gov!  They processed me already… my SAR appears to be blank.  Ah well, that’s life for ya!  All it could tell me is that I’m ineligible for a Pell Grant.  Sigh.  I kinda wanted one, even though I didn’t think I’d get one.

My expected family contribution is more than I have in the bank… do they know something I don’t know???  Perhaps I got paid, and they checked my accounts??  Or did they go through my couch cushions???  Ha!  I don’t have a couch!  Hardy-har-har!

night,

dawn

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Frew! Well, I finished the darn thing… but in an effort to conserve trees, I clicked the e-mail me thing… whoops!  I guess I need the paper copy.  So I kinda screwed up.  Which means I have to wait until they process it, and THEN I need to contact them with the update–which is just “send me the real thing”.  Blah.  Stupid me! 

But really, the fafsa wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  I bet if I actually understood taxes, that it would have been easier.  It took a while.  But the anticipation was the worst.  It was not like pulling teeth out through your nose, though, like I’d heard. 

In other news, working on Chapters Fourteen and Fifteen today.  Slowly muddling through. 

Terry from the conference called.  It’s good to hear from him!  And Melanie called.  Must return phone calls…

If I had children, I would let them run amok.  I don’t think of the things that normal parents think of, so I would pretty much just let them run through the neighborhood without any thought to safety… Unless I lived in a creepy place.  But where I live now, it’s not creepy, so I’d just let them go free.  Good thing I don’t have children!  The world is safe for another day. (Or nine more months…)

night,

dawn

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“Hudsucker Proxy”

I love Tim Robbins.  (I love Tom Robbins, too, so it gets confusing.  Thankfully I don’t know either of them.)  When I was younger, I loved the movie “Howard the Duck”.  I know a lot of people hate it, but it tickles my funny bone.  And I like the comic books, too, even though they’re very different (and more perverse). 

But a couple years ago, long after watching “Shawshank Redemption”, I realized what a great actor he was, because I saw him in several movies at the same time.  Looked him up, found out he was the geek in “Howard the Duck” and became enamored.  Anyone who can pull off both “The Shawshank Redemption” and “Howard the Duck” is a great actor.  And willing to take a chance!  I like actors who do crazy roles and give their all.  I enjoyed Ron Eldard for the same reason.  “Sex and the Other Man”, “Just a Kiss”, and “Delivered”, on top of all the serious roles, like “House of Sand and Fog”.

Anyway, back to good old Tim.  I was looking for great funny movies, and came across this movie title a couple years ago… “The Hudsucker Proxy”.  I’ve wanted to see it ever since.  Tim Robbins inventing the Hula Hoop?  How can we go wrong!? 

And we didn’t.  Watched it last night (found a copy at the grocery store, of all places), and wow.  I like it when movies play with the era (set this one back in the 50s) and give us some great characters (like Jennifer Jason Leigh’s Amy Archer) and plays with the cinematography and the story.  The moment it started, and the president of the company stood up on the long table, I was hooked.  This is just one of those movies that I aspire to someday write a novel like.  Quirky, crazy, takes some chances, yet still makes sense.  (Ah, that last one, will I ever get there??)

So this movie is going right up there with “Harold and Maude”, and even “Rosemary’s Baby” as great underrated movies that everyone should watch. 

Why do they even bother to make most of the movies they come up with now?  If I wanted cookie cutters, I’d have gone to culinary school and learned to bake!

night,

dawn

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