Nowadays… A passage peppered with commas — which in the past would have indicated painstaking and authoritative editorial attention — smacks simply of no backbone. People who put in all the commas betray themselves as moral weaklings with empty lives and out-of-date reference books. (Truss, 2004, p. 97–98)

I suspect Truss doesn't know how to use commas.

"It's a pity there's not you in class today."

One of my students wrote that to me the day I missed class. I just noticed it when I was going through my old emails.

I got my evaluations back today- they ask the students "what could be done to improve this class?" One of them wrote, "Get a new instructor."

IT IS GRANTED!! Not because of that comment, but because of a scheduling conflict. Anyway I'm out of grammar for the summer- maybe forever . . . who knows?

On a scale of 7 to 1, 1 being "No, never" and 7 being "Yes, Always" they were asked how friendly I was, I got one 1, one 3, one 4, one 5, eleven 6s and eight-teen 7s.

WOO-HOO!

One student suggested that we exercise in grammar class.

SERIOUSLY? I'm so out of grammar class if we have to do calisthenics.

One student suggested that the electives last "more long time."

One student really liked that I taught grammar in grammar class. Yes, indeed.

One student was asked what she liked about speaking class she said, "We can speak too much." That's good . . . right?

I dreamed pudding told me he was going sky diving. I questioned him about it because although I don't know how much it costs, it sounds expensive, not to mention dangerous. That was the whole of the dream. He said he was going, I questioned it and it was over.
I don't dream about him much any more, although the other night I dreamed he had a magic ram, horse and elephant he kept in his bag . . . I think however that was a WoW overload.
I wondered if the skydiving meant something, so I looked it up.

Skydiving

To dream that you are skydiving, represents your high ideals. Sometimes you may need to compromise these ideals and be more realistic of your expectations.

He's not good at compromise.

And I know it was me who called it over but
I still wish you'd fought me ‘til Your dying day
Don’t let me get away

Cause I can’t wait to figure out what’s wrong with me
So I can say 'this is the way that I used to be
There’s no substitute for time
Or for the sadness

John Mayer "Split screen sadness"

I’ve been working on will power and self control. One issue at a time for me. There are plenty to last me a life time. The one I’m working on now is selfishness. I think I am by nature selfish. I think most people are actually. Some people aren’t, they give away everything, share everything, but most, like me, I think, have a harder time. We have to work on it. Some of us have to work on it more than others. It’s big things and little things that tempt us to selfishness. When we break a candy in half, we want the bigger piece. When it’s time to share the cost of an event, we think we should have to pay less. When it comes to gifts; we try to get away cheap.

For me I suppose it comes from growing up poor. There wasn’t much to share, and I wasn’t usually asked to share, as everyone knew there was so little to go around. Other people often volunteered to pay for things for me because they knew I didn’t have anything.

You would think that with all the generosity I was shown I would have learned to show it myself. Some bad habits die hard though. Now I’m making the efforts in small things and large. When I break a piece of candy I make a note to give away the bigger piece. When it come to paying my part I try to give a little extra, I try to remember to offer more than I think is “fair.” When I feel put upon, I try to ask for another opinion. I don’t always succeed, but at least I’m trying to change a bad habit. I think that’s what I need to do to grow and learn and become better. I want to be better, no matter the cost. I know the reward will be greater.

I was just about to eat when I got this text, "Nah . . . I have time . . . Just not interested today."

I have time to talk to you about your wounded heart and your hurt feelings. I have time to explain myself to you, I have time to tell you how I feel hurt or angry or dissapointed. Yeah, I have time, I'm just not interested in talking to you about it today. Maybe tomorrow when I can deny I ever had a feeling, when I can rationalize it all. Maybe tomorrow or the next day when I am really bored, maybe then it will be more interesting to me.

I understand, and I wasn't really hungry anyway. It's not important enough for your time I guess. I just wrote and called and texted and left a message. Over kill? I guess I'm just too interested.

http://www.oneishy.com/personality/results/2e6cd3e0f

Personality: Phlegmatic Melancholy

Melancholy Strength:9 Weakness:6 38%

Phlegmatic Strength:9 Weakness:9 45%

Sanguine Strength:2 Weakness:2 10%

Choleric Strength:0 Weakness:3 8%

I feel really ugly.
Not like "OH my God! My eyebrows are enourmous!"
or "I have a million zits!" ugly.
I mean ugly on the inside.
I also know that I shouldn't feel this way.
I'm loved and I'm forgiven.
I know.
There is a plan for me.
I know.
There are signs and wonders and beauty all around.
I know.
How to stop a feeling?

second person


Break Your Heart Lyrics

The weather here has been erratic to say the least. I don’t recall it being so mutable in the past. One day it is sunny, balmy winds- humid. The next day it is snowing, storming, gale force winds and 20-40 degrees colder. The next day, back to sunny and warm. Tuesday, I was out with Buzz and I saw this little sky blue and white parakeet. He was happy as the little larks he was hanging out with. Well, I don’t know who he was hanging out with, swallows, larks whatever. He was happy.

That night it stormed, a cold wind blew in and the temperatures dropped about 20 degrees. When I took Buzz out the next morning there was the little parakeet. He was not quite so happy as he had been the day before. He was all wet and muddy. His wings were clipped, so he could only fly a few feet at a time. All wet and muddy and tired, he could hardly get off the ground. I knew one little dog for sure who would love to eat him, and there are plenty of other dogs and cats in the neighborhood who would like a tasty sky blue snack.

I, I, who does not like birds, I went to rescue him from the paws of death. I think saying I don’t like birds isn’t quite right. I like them when they are outside flying around doing birdie things. I don’t like them in houses, when they are too close to me, and certainly not to touch me! It’s approximately the same way I feel about lizards. I know they won’t hurt me, I don’t mind if other people have them as pets, but I don’t want them near me and I certainly don’t want to touch them. They creep me out.

There I was, never-the-less, with a five ounce monster in my hand. It was trying to bite me! I took it home and put it in a shoe box. It waited until it was dry, then escaped and flew around my living room pooping on my stuff. Stupid bird. I squealed a few times and finally trapped it back in the shoe box. I took it to the pet store and got a cage and some food. That afternoon I put up some “Did you lose your parakeet?” signs.

I had it at school with me so I showed some of my students. They said he was pretty. One girl said, “I like it, it’s pretty, but I don’t like, what is it? There, not piss . . .” She pointed to the bottom of the cage. I said, “It’s poop.”
She said, “Poop? P-U-P?”
I said, “Poop P-O-O-P”
Another girl walked up and said, “Oh! Is that his name? Poop! Hello Poop! So cute name!”
I said, “No, that’s not . . . uh- ok yeah, his name is Poop.”

Buzz is mesmerized by Poop. Buzz is ready to give up on the neighbor’s cat in favor of Poop. Poop twitches a lot when Buzz gets too close.

I went on a “chocolate walk” with the woman’s group from the church I’ve been attending. We went to a too-cute-oh-my-wait-I-just-vomited-a-little-in-my-mouth shopping center. Useless over priced antiques, even more useless, even more over priced handicrafts, even more useless, even more overpriced jewelry- you get the idea. But, each store was giving away chocolate. Some of them were having drawings for other chocolate items. It seems I have won some Neiman Marcus chocolate potato chips. I’ll have to go pick those puppies up!

Speaking of puppies, I bought a Kosher Hot Dog. It is so stinking easy to amuse me.

Late we went to some country chicken place to eat, where thousands of chickens must be scarified to satisfy the needs for the MOUNTAINS of chicken that those adorable little waitresses cart out on their gigantic platters. We had chicken, we did the Hokey-Pokey (like you do at a chicken restaurant) we turned ourselves around and went home.

Before we left, however, some of use showed each other our purchases. I of course showed the Kosher Hot Dog. Someone asked if it was Charlie Chaplin. I don’t recall ever seeing Charlie Chaplin in forelocks and a prayer shawl, but “Uh- no . . . it’s a Kosher Hot Dog.” Texas- honestly have you people ever seen Jews?!

One woman showed us her new $79.00 shirt. I almost choked on my mashed potatoes. Another woman showed us her sheep. It was just a little folk-looking carved wooden black sheep. I said, “Oh, that’s nice.” She said, “Yes, I have colored sheep at home.” I did that thing where I turn my head to the side and squint my eyes in an effort to get my brain in the exact right position to understand that kind of statement. Then she “explained,” “I always see sheep decorations that are white or pastel, but not colored, so I just had to get this one.” I was thinking, ‘Aren’t pastels colors? Or does she mean she has BLACK sheep?’

I don’t know why but, because the term ‘colored’ referring to black (people or sheep) is so old fashioned it has a negative connotation and can be derogatory. It’s okay to say ‘people of color’ so maybe she should have said she has ‘sheep of color’ at home. Of course my first thought was a rainbow of sheep wandering a field contently.

I like the red one.

Just in terms of allocation of time resources, religion is not very efficient. There's a lot more I could be doing on a Sunday morning. - Bill Gates

Wow- either Bill's a funny guy, or he's not as smart as we all thought.

I have a student who is really into Sherlock Holmes. The thing is she has a difficult time actually pronouncing Sherlock Holmes. Nobody can understand her when she starts talking about him. She's brought him up several times, but we are still always baffled as she trys to expain what she wants us to know. She gets so upset when we can't understand. I know in her language she is very articulate.

Sometimes I know how she feels- I want to be articulate and understood, but sometimes it's Sherlock Holmes for me too.

I saw this book called "Knitted Babes." The dolls on the cover were severely ugly. They looked like tiny spaghetti-legged zombies with cute clothes. I thought about it for a while- would I make one? What would I do with it if I did? Could I make them look cuter than the ones on the cover? Why are those painfully thin babies appealing to me at all? Well I don’t know, I was going to put it back when the whole gay episode distracted me. I decided to get it and get out of there.

So I got home and I looked in my stash for some flesh colored yarn- the first I came to was light brown- well that’s fine, that’s what color most people in the world are anyway. I made up the bits. Then I looked online to see if anyone else had made one and posted a picture- maybe they had made a cuter one. I found a page full of the little knitted monstrosities. They were all ugly- some of them must have been beaten with an ugly stick. Or as my grandmother used to say, “They fell from the top of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

That makes me laugh. HA!

I saw one cute one, her name was “Alice full of Malice.” I saw someone had made an alien doll- he was pretty cute too. It didn’t inspire me to put the bits together quite yet.

http://knittedbabes.blogspot.com/

I decided she would certainly look better with clothes, so I should have some clothes ready for her once I put her together. I made her a little ballet leotard. But I used a fatter yarn, so the leotard was too big, so now I’ve started another brown doll, with a different yarn, to fit the clothes which were too big to fit the first doll.

Yes, I’ve always known my logic and sequence were off. Why not make clothes to fit the doll I already made? Don’t know. I also started making an alien doll. I should have quite a little collection of ugly dolls one day. Watch out you might get one!

In my class a few weeks agao we were reading a short story about a girl who had moved from some tropical island to New York City in January. Quite a shock for that girl. In the story she talks about how she got up in the morning and although it had been cold the night before, she saw the sun was out so she figured it must be warm out. She put on a "gay summer dress." She was shocked when she learned that it was possible for it to be cold and the sun be out at the same time.

(Geeze-Louise-Can it be cold and the sun shining brightly!)

So my students all looked at me like something was amiss. Then one of them said, "Why is her dress gay?"
I said,"It doen't mean homosexual, it means bright and happy."
Student: "Why do we call gay people gay?"
Before I could say anything another student said, "Guurl! You know! It's because they're so HAPPY!" in a very stereo-typical, limp wristed kind of way.
The first student said, "OH!" (this really made sense to her)"That IS why!"
I said, "Ok, yes, that is why."

That started the "gay-week" at UD ELP. Everybody in my class was gay. They walked around telling the other students they were gay- which really didn't always have the effect they wanted. My students are the highest level so they knew what one definitions of gay was, the other students didn't know what "gay" meant one way or the other.

Oh they thought they were funny.

That weekend I was in the bookstore looking at a book about knitting ugly baby dolls. More on that later, but as I was sitting there I saw two sisters walk by, a teenager and a 9 or 10 year old. The teen said to her sister, "You are so gay!" The pre-teen said, "No I'm not!- wait, what does gay mean?"
The big sister said, "It means you like boys!" I don't know what that explanation was about- maybe she didn't want to get into gritty details . . .
The little sister said, "Oh, ok- then I AM gay! Hey everyone!" (shouting) "I'm gay! But at least I'm not lesbian!" I couldn't see them anymore, but whatever reaction the big sister had must have fueled the excitment of the little sister who then spent the next 10 minutes telling everyone in the store that she was gay and asking if they were gay too. It was funny for about 5 minutes, after that I wanted to strangle both of them.

On Monday I told my students about it and they thought that was one of the funniest things the'd every heard.

Many guys seem to be looking for a woman who, if she exists, was snatched up as a precious resource long ago. Slender, toned and curvy- to be honest; if she is one, she is probably not the other. Most likely she will either be slender and toned, OR curvy. You know that, right? Guys want her to be into sports; watching, playing- watching him playing . . . They think a picture of him with a bunch of Hooter girls will make all the rest of us envy his position in the universe. Not so.

I am a woman. I like things women like, I do things women do. As unique as we each are- I’m ready to admit that men are men and women are women, I like it that way. Call me old fashioned.

I like romantic comedies. I smell the flowers each time I pass by in the grocery store. I read fantasy novels, classic literature and once every few years I’ll read a romance or trashy novel just to make sure I still don’t like them. I could knit you a sweater, but I probably won’t. I’m bad at math and logic, but my common sense and perceptiveness are excellent. I like to use words with precise meanings. I grew up in PA. I’ve lived in the south for more than half my life, but I retain some basic tenets of my upbringing: “ten” and “tin” are pronounced completely differently, “oil” has two syllables “five” has one syllable, and you shouldn’t judge people because of what color they are, what religion they are or what their occupation is. I’ve picked up as much Southern etiquette as my Yankee brain can manage. I am eclectic. My dog knows seven tricks and will attempt to do them all simultaneously for the right treat, me too. I have a short attention span, but I am patient when I need to be. I am a Christian. I like the idea of Post modernity. I love to travel. I crack myself up- I want someone to make me laugh. I don’t eat meat, but it’s not because of animal rights. I think we need to work on human rights before we spend too much energy on animal rights. I read my Bible regularly. I know how to say, “Go away fat cow.” in Norwegian. I know how to say, “There’s a fish on my head” in French. I’m bad at learning languages- but I like to try. I’m bad at drawing, but I like to try. I drive a car which is older than my college-age students. I like it. I teach grammar- my grammar isn’t so great. My spelling is terrible. Sometimes I wonder, “What would Jesus do?” But then I don’t think he would do what most other people think he would do. I’m a Virgo, and I think that if God could create the Universe- he could also tell us a little about ourselves as he was writing out the plans in the stars. I collect turtles, not live ones. I listen to all kids of music. I have a great desire to see Niagara Falls. I love the Lord of the Rings books and movies. I play WoW. If I were reading this I would have already stopped- see short attention span above. To conclude, I am not toned or slender- curvy yes- large curves. I have a waist and easily identifiable breeder hips and breasts. I would say “full figured” but that seems to be a euphemism for morbidly obese. Let’s say Rubenesque. I’m looking for a man who is a Christian all the time, not just on Sundays.

"And the king kissed Absalom." 2 Samual 14:33

Let us have the courage to forgive one another, even when it seems a dangerous thing to do.

I don't know how I ever survived in Pennsylvania. I was just outside in the Texas snow for about 5 minutes and I nearly died! Not really, but it was freakishly cold for March in Texas, and it is snowing, and my back did spasim and tighten up like surely death was upon me.

Notice my sad little dented up car.

Cooties

I was infected before I got my shot, now I have to live with it daily.