What Is Up With That Crazy Weather?

I don't know what's up with that crazy weather in the eastern states, but something sure is, and the weather has been weird here too. Oregon weather reminds me of a song by Relient K (who, by the way I saw in concert two years ago!): "Lately the weather has been so bipolar and consequently so have I." It's true. While the eastern states have been getting all sorts of snowstorms and stuff like that, Salem has been everywhere from rainy and 40 degrees to bright and sunny at a lovely 61 degrees. I LOVE it. But something about it is screwing with my internal clock. I've been so exhausted recently that I've been neglecting my blog, my webcomics (yes, I am a webcomic nerd) and my homework, and apparently I'm not the only one who is feeling it. On top of all that, I'm looking for and submitting my applications for internships right now, when I can find the time (i.e. Thursdays), and the one I'm really hoping to get is a victim assistance position with the State DA's office (that's district attorney for those of you less savy). Basically I would hang out and help victims find stuff they need, as well as accompany them to court. I would get all kinds of experience with different types of victims, so it's a big opportunity for me, and because it's a job with the state, I'll have a great reference on my resume for the future. In fact, it also might lead into a job with the state in the future. So I'll be applying for it on Thursday, and I hope I get it. Wish me luck, and pray for me!

My great grandma died this morning.
Why do people say passed away? It's such a silly phrase, "Passed away."
Like she left, and it's possible for her to return...
Died is much more finite.
It has more finality to it.
More weight.

And why is it that one can be extremely upset,
Shaken,
Wronged,
Saddened, for one person's death,
But not for another's?

Is it because she was old and therefore it was
expected?
Is it because I didn't really know her that well?
Is it because she didn't have much life ahead of her anyway,
Or because she was sick and her quality of life
Wasn't all that good?
Is it because I know that she's in a better place?
Maybe.

Then I think about all the good that she did.
Raising my grandmother and her siblings,
Encouraging her children to lead good lives,
Boiling it down to
Me.

Grandma,
Enjoy heaven. Say hi to Grandad for me.
Love you.

So here's to two great old folks in the afterlife.

The Dream

This "is such stuff as dreams are made on,"
She thought to herself as she drew water from the well.
Nightmares that is.
She puts the droplets to her eyes,
Drawing them under her lids,
Pulling them shut as to keep the tears from escaping
Back into the wishing well.
The well that is full of dreams and wishes,
One tear for each of the fallen.
And here she stands,
Holding the tears for the dreams next to fall
Just like she grasps at the wishes,
The saltiness slips from her hands.
She understands now
That designing for Shakespeare
Is a dream that is six feet under,
Because the Bard has been long gone for awhile now.
Keeping her eyes closed,
She can't see where she walks...
By touch alone, she digs the hole for the next dream,
Splintering her hands on the rough wooden handle
Of the rusted over spade.
The dream lands in the hole
With a soft thud from its weight.
And the tears fall again,
Back into the well,
Mourning with the other droplets
Another deceased dream.

Greener Pastures

"My dear, I don't give a damn,"
Said the sheep that was being raised by wolves.
They had her looking this way
And that way.
Never finding the patch of grass
That would prove to be the most nutritious.
It was always out of reach,
On the other side of the fence.
She would be forced to don the skin of wolves,
And tear into the flesh of other sheep like herself
To get her allotted amount of protein,
To keep herself alive.
And the wolves return her sentiment
In fewer words
That are well-disguised as caring
And understanding.
Before, she used to kid herself
That the wolf skin she tied on every day
Was her real skin,
Was the way she was supposed to look,
The code of conduct she was supposed to follow,
The fun she was supposed to have,
The burden that she was supposed to bear.
Then Fun became Pain,
Conduct became Optional,
Burden became Death,
And the skin became just that:
A covering of who she really was.
And she realized
The grass on the other side,
Isn't always green.

Morphine Dreams

Fully alive and awake one minute,
Fading quickly into sleep the next.
Jealousy guards the inanimate-ness you take on
When you slip into those
Morphine Dreams.
Envy watches you escape your life
All your problems
If only for eight hours,
As you fall into those
Morphine Dreams.
And I...
I just watch as you go goofy,
Working out phrases that
Aren't
Quite
Right,
And that I know you wont remember
In the morning
After all those
Morphine Dreams,
Wishing I could join you in your
Morphine Dreams.

A Finger to the Theatre Dept. at SmallTown University!

This is mainly a post to collect my thoughts so I can write my letter of resignation to the Theatre Department. So this all started at the beginning of this semester. I took a job over the summer that pays room and board, and then some. Well, I started working this job, you know, the one where I take care of MS at night? Okay, well I informed the Theatre Department and all its asshole, manipulative, controlling, jerk-on-your-chain faculty members that I had this job, that I couldn't quit this job because that is what was keeping my bills manageable for the year. Without this job, I would not be attending STU, let alone be majoring in Theatre. This was when I was still a major in that Godforsaken department. Anyway, I asked for a lower commitment production assignment, something that I could get done during the day without a lot of commuting (like the props managers have to do), and they complied, giving me scene shop hours. What that entailed, because of my already overloaded schedule, was cutting back on my work study hours, you know, the ones I get paid for? The ones I use to pay my college tuition? Yeah, those. I finished the job that I had to do, 6 hours a week, and then 6 more per week that I got paid for (I couldn't do any more than that because if I had, I surely would have died from exhaustion. I had essentially 12 hours of work study a week, and an additional 17 hours a week for class. I literally had no time to think for the first half of the semester. Less than 10 hours of free time during the week, and I had to drop a class because it was too much). Anyway, I was working 12 hours per week, only 6 of which I got paid for, unfortunately. I needed more hours so I could pay for school. Anyway, I busted my ass, trying to get everything together, and still stay with the theatre department as a major. I quickly realized that I couldn't do it all, and couldn't do anything meaningful/get the work experience that I needed to make a life for myself in theatre, and therefore met with the theatre department to ask if it was even plausible to still be a theatre major. I had the idea that I would take the rest of my classes and finish the major academically, and then after my senior year, I would come back, work full-time, and do my production assignments, and that would be all I would be enrolled for, and I would graduate a year late. The theatre faculty shot that idea down, and told me it would be better for me to be a minor or just participate when I can and not be academically involved in the theatre. In fact, one of the professors even said "J, putting all personality differences aside, I don't think you should be a major." Reasonable advice, not very professional. Anyway, about halfway through the semester, the show opens, my production assignment is done, and I am out of a job. Basically, the person who is in charge of the scene shop said that she didn't have enough hours to keep people on, and the only people that she had hours for were the scholarship students. This is irritating, because I all of a sudden went from having barely enough hours to scrape by, to having no hours at all. I was laid off. Great, because, you know, there are so many open jobs on campus halfway through the semester for work study students, and believe me, I was looking. Then, a few weeks later the faculty released the 2009-2010 theatre handbook of rules and regulations that govern the theatre department and how it is run. Every student is expected to read through it and sign off that they read it. So I get to reading this book, this handy little handbook. And you know what I find? What's that? You don't know what I found? Well, let me tell you that I found all sorts of fancy, contradicting rules. For instance, "academic excellence" comes first. You are supposed to maintain good grades. Alright. I can do that. What's next? "Your commitment to the theatre department." This means accepting all roles given to you, and fulfilling them according to the description in the handbook. Okay, sounds alright, except where does work come in? Oh, that's right, after those two. Scholarship hours and work study are to be fulfilled AFTER the other two. So, basically, you pay for school after you go. Somehow, I think that if you can't pay for school, they kind of kick you out… Oh, and on top of all this? You're supposed to get enough sleep and stay healthy! HAHAHAHA YEAH RIGHT! WITH WHAT TIME??? For those of you who aren't familiar with the theatre and its workings, rehearsals are at night, and even designers, who don't need to be at rehearsals put in a lot of time and effort into making the show great. For example, the stage manager and assistant stage manager? 4 hours of rehearsal every night except for Sundays. Same with actors. And on top of all that, the SM and ASM are in charge of EVERYTHING. This is a HUGE time commitment, and I personally know many SMs and ASMs who have nearly failed their classes because they've had to be at rehearsal. And this is without work study or scholarship hours. Now, where do those hours factor in at? How can you factor in those hours? When you need at least 12 hours a week to pay for school after working three jobs over the summer, how the hell are you supposed to squeeze that in without hallucinating from sleep deprivation, and still manage to keep up with classes and your production assignment? Okay, so, I was dropping the theatre completely at this point. I met with my advisor, CH, and told him this, very angrily, I might add, because I was furious that I wasn't able to do what I wanted with my life because what I did with my time was dictated by how much my father pays for my education. Well, unlike a lot of your little angelic theatre majors, Daddy doesn't like to pay my tuition, even though he can afford to pay it all, and therefore, I HAVE to have a job to pay my bills. Unfortunately, my job is in the evening hours. That takes up a lot of time. Thanks for understanding, douchebags. When I met with CH to angrily tell him that the theatre department is discriminating against people from low-income families, he convinced me after a long conversation, to take a sabbatical from the theatre department for a semester. This was after my production assignment had been completed, and after I had been laid off. I had also made him aware that because I had been laid off, I couldn't afford to pay for school anymore, and that was stressing me out. He encouraged me to talk to my boss, RS, about it, and see what she could do for me. By the time this was happening, I had maybe two or three weeks left in the semester. When I talked to RS, she was gracious and said that I should have said something sooner. She made a deal with me that she would make me the scene shop supervisor, and raise my pay for Spring 2010 semester. Great. Thanks. I really appreciate it (without sarcasm). Winter break comes and I go home to work at my usual job. Whoohoo. I come back, and resume work in the scene shop. We've been in school for three weeks now (this is the start of the third week) and the theatre faculty have posted the production assignments for the semester. Assuming that I was on sabbatical from the department, I didn't take the time to check it, that is, until a Miss JA greeted me with "Hey! Fellow follow-spot ops!" (meaning I would be operating the spotlight with her for the show). Needless to say, I was very confused and upset because I am supposedly on a leave of absence from the theatre. I marched myself up to the hallway that contains all the offices of the theatre faculty members, and looked for ONE to talk to. None of them were there. I emailed CH, told him I wanted to meet with him. Apparently he emailed me back while I was working, and then ended up running into me when I was working and we had our little meeting that I had requested right then and there. I told him that I thought that I was on a leave of absence from the department, he looked confused and insulted, almost. I told him that my understanding was that to meet the requirements of the minor, I needed to have six productions under my belt. Not necessarily more, and no less. He said he would talk to RS, my super for the shop work, and also for my field of interest in the theatre, lighting design. He talked to RS, and came back to me with this message:

"JMA,

I'll admit that your request earlier today took me a little by surprise. I spoke with RS this evening, at the earliest opportunity, and at some length about your request to be given a "leave of absence" from production responsibilities this semester. We both thought we had done that last semester. We gave you a light load last semester on production, and even gave you a quarter credit for taking on the dance concert lighting assignment.

RS and I are agreed that it is hard to understand or accept your request to be excused a production assignment and yet to expect to continue your work as a shop supervisor. A shop supervisor, by definition, is a partner in setting that code of responsibility and accountability on which the department - the company - runs. The pattern that your request sets for the company is that it becomes acceptable to pick and choose the work you do, the projects you work on and the level to which you participate. Clearly if that became the model of operation we would soon collapse as a viable company. We need all hands to enable us to stage the production of this Kabuki play to the level at which we can all be proud. RS needs someone on the follow-spots who understands the instruments and what they can do. That is why she asked for you for that position. At the same time it also accommodated you need for a relatively light production load.

Furthermore, you should bare in mind that the guidelines of a minimum of six productions for a minor is just that ... a minimum ... It should never be considered the bench mark for the least you can get by with.

If you still feel that you cannot fulfill your assignment as defined, I would suggest you talk to Rachel directly, who is both your work supervisor and the primary faculty member in your designated field of interest - lighting design.

If we need to talk again, I'd be more than happy to meet and chat further.

C."

Okay, given this message, and the information I've just provided you with, please explain to me how it was that they supposedly "gave me a light load last semester," and given me a "leave of absence" that I had requested two weeks before the end of the semester. Can you understand why I'm pissed?

I Vow to Write Letters Differently

So, I was in my Women in the Arts class this morning and we were discussing women in the Middle Ages, and the letters they wrote. We were asked by the professor where Medieval women might have gone to learn to write letters. We went off on a tangent about how the students in the class learned to write letters, and about how there is a formula for each and every letter you want to write. One woman put it interestingly: "When I was in elementary school, we learned how to write 'Thank You' notes, and in those, we were supposed to start with a greeting, then thank them, then say something nice about them, then thank them again and end the letter." When she put it like this, I came to the realization that letters are so prescribed, that no one really says what they want to in their letters. They never have, and never will. So from now on, I will not follow the rules of the letter. I will write my name and return address on the envelope, and the receiver's name and address on the envelope, and when I get to the actual letter writing part, I will say exactly what I mean and nothing else. Niceties only if I mean to say them, and not to humble myself or uplift the person I am writing to. My next letter will be very similar to my blog in that it will be a random smattering of things, things that include silly little tidbits about what I think about during the day, as well as the purpose for writing the letter, but my next letter will be anything but prescribed. My next letter will be personal, a letter from the heart.

FLDS and Polygamy

So, this week's post I kind of stumbled across in the form of the National Geographic that comes to my house every month. MS, the woman I work for, is always pointing out interesting articles and television programs that I might want to watch on public television, in the newspapers, and in magazines. I don't often take her up on the idea because I'm not to keen on politics (what she is normally interested in), or I don't have time, considering my homework load. Well, we were eating dinner when she brought this article to my attention, and I was interested and had to stay until she was finished anyway (she eats really slow, but I suppose I've gotten used to it). Anyway, I was reading this article and was fascinated by the responses of the wives. Apparently the men have to be sanctioned by the LDS (Mormon) leaders and declared holy before they can marry plural wives. First of all, the feminist in me noticed that only men are allowed plural marriages, but then I thought about the purpose of it: supposedly, they are building up God's kingdom. The sole purpose of a plural marriage is to procreate above and beyond the call of duty. Must be nice for the guys. All the sex they want! Anyway, the second thought I had was about how the wives respond. There were the typical responses (like depression in the first wife of one man. Apparently she rarely came out of her room, except for meals, to do laundry, and to watch Shirley Temple shows on television. Talk about a sucky situation). Some wives left. But then there were other, more unusual responses, such as happiness and rejoice that you have sister-wives. Some of the wives become best friends. They care for the children, help with all the work, basically all the things a woman does in a traditional marriage. One of the women had a sister who was marrying the same man because he was "a good man and I just wanted her to know the same kind of happiness I had known." One of the women confessed that she wasn't sure that all the wives were happy about plural marriage, but they regard it as "God's Law". She said that overcoming the jealousy that one feels is part of the test of plural marriage, and another way for her to overcome a challenge that God had sent her way. When I read this, I thought, wow, this woman has the right idea. By thinking about something she is unhappy about, she views it as just another test that God has sent her way, and because of this, she overcomes. Now, I am opposed to polygamy because I follow a different religion, however, I think that this can be carried over to other parts of life. For example, the escapade with MZ and AK: I can look at that as a "they ruined my life" kind of thing, or I can look at it as a challenge of forgiveness (which I have, it's just an example). Aside from that, the thing that surprised me most was the joy that some expressed about having sister wives. I know I couldn't do it.

Making a Difference Monday

...Alright, it was Sunday, but does it really matter what day I did it?
Now for the story:
We (being my mom and I) were driving back to Collegetown yesterday because I started school today. We were pulling off the freeway into Cousville when I saw a man sitting on a walker holding a sign that said something along the lines of "Homeless Vet". Well, there was a Safeway nearby, and as my readers know, I have a big heart for the homeless. While my mom was filling up the tank with gas, I walked over to Safeway, bought a box of cereal bars and a few bananas to give to the man. Mom wasn't quite finished at the pump, so I walked over to the old man.
The first thing I noticed was that his hands were shaking. I handed him the box of cereal bars, along with the bananas, and told him I thought he might need breakfast, then gave him ten dollars (the biggest bill in my pocket), to buy himself some lunch or dinner later that evening.
The old man took it and said "God bless you. Thank you."
I turned and walked away, wishing I could do more.

I don't know if you guys have facebook, or if you have noticed yet, but lately all the women (and some of the jokester men) have been posting neutral (and some not so neutral) colors on their statuses. If you haven't heard or learned the reason yet, or don't get it, these women have failed. The statuses are the colors of their bras. Yes, their bras. Still don't understand? By putting the colors of their bras in their statuses, these women were hoping to raise breast cancer awareness, and they were planning on making the men wonder why they were putting colors in their statuses. Now, this is a bad way to raise awareness for breast cancer on many levels.

• Colors are arbitrary adjectives. They can be used to describe anything. By making your status a singular word, the only thing you are succeeding at is confusing people about the subject you deign most important, the subject that you are most passionate about, the subject you have actually concealed by confusing everyone. Assuming we are going to stick with keeping the bra theme, a better way to support breast cancer awareness would be to post the noun that the adjective is describing and maybe state the reason for posting this. For example: "I am wearing a pink bra today to support breast health and to remind all the women in my life to get their annual breast check this month." This way, the person posting is stating his or her cause, while also sticking with the theme of doing something cutesy that relates to the cause.
  
• By discussing the color of bra one is wearing, one is drawing attention to the breasts. In doing so, the person speaking is objectifying herself, calling attention to her body as an object, and away from the real issue, which most participants would claim to be breast cancer. This is similar to the new "Save the Tatas" commercial that the Breast Cancer society has launched on the United States.
  

  Link here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQI1tzkwpkI
  

  If you notice, roughly ninety percent of the video focuses on the woman's body and the reactions of the people standing around. Only ten percent is spent on the woman's face. This video, and the title of the ad campaign ("Save the Tatas" or "Save the Boobs") make the cure for breast cancer about saving the breasts, and not about saving the person, they take away the face of the person, her true identity. In line with trying to correct the objectification of the women in these ad campaigns in the first point, to correct this, I would suggest a commercial that focuses on the woman and her family, not the woman's body, or how other's react to the woman's body. Breast cancer comes in many forms, from large-chested women to small-chested women, from young to old, from big to small. It is rather random, and I think that the ideal awareness commercial demonstrate that any woman can be a victim of breast cancer.
  

• My final point, about why this was a dumb exercise, is that no other cancer gets as much publicity as breast cancer. Pancreatic cancer is certainly more deadly, and claims more people. We have feminists and women who all want equal rights to men, but they continue to single out the leading cancer in women only? What's the correction for this? Start publicizing for men to get prostate checks. Tell people to have their lungs scanned for masses every five years or something, tell people to check out the insides of their mouths, ect. Bring the same amount of awareness to the other forms of cancer.
  

I support breast cancer, but I am not about to participate in some silly, self-revealing task that has absolutely nothing to do with breast cancer.

On another note, I spent the day with my mom today. We went shopping, deposited my paycheck (YAY!), got my hair fixed (one side was longer than the other), and went shopping. I got a teapot/cup set, you know the cool ones with the teapot that sits on top of the cup, and you take it off to pour the tea. It was three dollars, along with four books that were half price (meaning, like, $1.00 and $0.50 books) including volume two of THE COMPLETE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE! EXCITING, ESTATIC, AND FULL OF PLAGIRISM! Bet you all did not know that Shakespeare stole his work from Seneca, who stole from the Greek playwrights! Yeah, it's a big conspiracy theory with lots of evidence. You should read my paper for theatre history for all the points. So, according to Shakespeare, it's okay to steal writings from a dead Roman playwright (that would be Seneca) and publish them as your own, but it is not okay to steal your dead brother's wife and make her your own? Haha, yeah, literary joke.

Boyfriend and I are back together! YAY! In said thrift store, I also found something new for his Valentine 's Day gift. It's nothing big, but I figure it's something he needs. :) He decided to use Prefixes for a song!

Anyway, nothing really that new this week. I got sick, and had to stay home from work for two days. I have three more shifts between now and Sunday, and then I go back to school and start classes on Monday. Luckily, I found a copy of Anna Karenina in the bookstore in the Channel Town nearby for my Russian Lit. class, and I've started on it so I don't have as much reading to do once classes start, but it isn't very interesting, and I get distracted easily. I think I have ADD sometimes. For example, I can't just watch movies now, I need to be doing something on top of watching the movie, like playing minesweeper. Until next week,

JMA