Summer Session II

Grad school sucks my balls and twists them up in knots.

Well, I bumped down from 3 online classes to 2, but they still last all summer and these online seminars seriously ruin my life.

I'm taking one class in person, HLS 502- Women's Health, for the month of June. It's M-R for two hours, then rush to work for another six, go home, play with Fi. Then, when I should be doing my homework, I flop into bed, because I'm to exhausted to deal. So that leaves weekends to "catch up" on my work. this month has also killed my going to the gym and I need to start again. I need to drag my butt out of the house so I can swim today, at the very least.

I cannot wait till next month when SS-III starts. I'll only have to go in two nights a week and my schedule will remain part-time.

I'm sick of my temp-job, the low pay, and the cranky old lady who's by boss. If I'm going to bust my butt working, then it betting be full-time, at an organization whose mission I believe in, with a DECENT wage (defined as upwards from $12/hour plus benefits). Goddamnit, I am a COLLEGE GRADUATE and I am working on a MASTERS DEGREE. Surely, between my experience and education, I deserve a fair amount of renumeration, right??? (Yes, I know I'm making more than minimum wage, but I have a kid, school tuition, and bills to pay for. 'Nuff said.)

Gym Gram #1

Got a semi nasty gram about motivation from the gym today for not showing up in the last few days. Urgh, I'm trying. But being so tired to the point of utter exhaustion is NOT safe! So I'm going to drag myself today, though that email makes me less inclined to do so. This gym is uber-fanatical........... I'm going to swim today, JUST so I can actually enjoy a workout and not be tortured by step interval class. Grrr......

Oh yeah, and direct deposit? You suck.

Why did I ever go to grad school?

Articles to follow.........  I have no chance at getting a job, finishing my degree, or living an otherwise productive life. Thanks recession. Thanks Congress.

My personal motto

Following in the revered footsteps of royal and noble predecessors, I have created my own personal motto; well, rather, I decided I'd use a particular phrase of mine, translate it into a few languages, et voila!


Gaeilge: Beidh mé ag aon mháistir ná mistress, ach amháin le haghaidh féin.


Latin: Edo vadum have haud vinco necque nec era, rego super mihi.
 
 
 
English Translation:
 
I shall have no master no mistress, save for myself.

Trying this again............

Ok, it's been over two months. Let's see if I can get this blog restarted. I'm going to transfer over some of my Champagne Dreams posts (which I'm sure nobody's ever read :). Let the blogging commece!

Vintage Blog #6: Thanksgiving Manifesto- Do's and Don'ts for your Holiday Meal (11/17/2007)

DO USE:
-Real Butter
-Real Sugar
-Real Cream
-Fresh vegetables and fruits
-Homemade baked goods using grandma's recipe to.the.fucking.letter. (no g-d substitutions on ANY ingredients!)
-Real.Fucking.Fresh.Bread.
-Appropriately paired alcoholic beverages with meal
-appropriately paired alcholic beverages as cooking ingredients
-Anything Fresh
-Aesthetically Pleasing
-Nice, visually appealing, and coherently designed table layout

DON'T USE:
-Fake @$$, nasty, nutrient deprived, preserved, canned, ANYTHING not limited to PIE Fillings and veggies
-Margarine, Equal, Splenda, Sweet and Lo or other chemically produced sugar "substitutes"
-Low Fat, Reduced Fat, No Fat anything, especially when it comes to DAIRY
-refuse to use even the mildest white or dessert wine, let alone any other alcoholic beverage in cooking and consuming because you're uneducated about wine and spirits and/or think that using them makes you a sinful and unhealthy person
-substitute rice for bread in stuffing. If I wanted soggy stuffing, I can think of plenty of greasy spoons to patronize on thanksgiving

IN SHORT:
Use real ingredients that are fresh and taste pleasing to the palate. Don't substitute chemical crap that destroys your neural pathways and self-righteously proclaim yourself to be "healthy". Enjoy your REAL food in moderation and save your leftovers and/or give them to someone who's not enjoying the holiday. Better yet, invite them over. Furthermore, don't let your insecurities regarding your lack of cooking skills detract from what is supposed to be a pleasant holiday meal. FINALLY, don't impose your disfunctional relationship with food on me. Mine is twisted enough, thank you very much. Food is not your enemy. You are your enemy.

Vintage Blog #5: Angel Numbers- 958 (10/11/2007)

Angel Number- 958:
Congradulations on making the decision and having the courage to change your life so that you can fully focus upon your sacred mission! These new changes also open you to increased financial flow.
Huzzah! Thank you my angelic friends!

Vintage Blog #4: Mickey Q's (10/10/2007)

So I was driving down South Clinton tonight after I left class. I'm in between Westfall and Elmwood right? So I look to the right, and what do I see?
MCQUAID. The parking lot to Mc Quaid is OVERFLOWING so much they have guys with light wands directing the traffic. So naturally, the first thing that comes into my mind? OMG, there must be a McQuaid dance tonight! (LMAO)
For those of you not from the ROC, I need to make you understand a few things.
First of all, McQuaid is the ONLY remaining all-boys school (jr and sr high) in the ENTIRE area. Second of all, it's run by the Jesuits. If you don't know who the Jesuits are, go bang your hang several times in succession against the library's brick wall. Thirdly, excepting Harley and Allendale-Columbia, Mc Quaid is the third most expensive private (not to mention the most expensive Catholic) school in the ROC. So for various reasons, the McQ has quite the reputation...........
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So yes, the famous Mc Quaid dances. First of all, you enter the side door to the building. You show your school ID, usually from a Catholic Jr or Sr High (depending on which dance you go to.) An unlimited number of girls may attend the dance, but boys from other schools may only attend via the permission of another McQuaid student. Pay your admission and go down the stairs.
The lights remain on in the hallway. You take a left into the darkened room with a mini lightshow and DJ music; you are at the dance. Ye typical dance floor dynamics take place here, with the sole exception of the Naz girls who break it down on the dance floor (represent!) because we're the only ones who REALLY know how to dance and not look like hoochie mamas. As the night goes on, the tiled floor gets incredibly slippery because of the the sheer number of overheated bodies in one space. The girls acts like they're hot shit, the weird-ass McQ boys (spaghetti boy, Navy JROTC Vampire guy, etc....) try to desparately make moves in hope of........whatever.
The dance ends, the lights go up..........and you realize you've just spend the last few hours of this night...........in a cafeteria.
I shit you not. That's when you run the hell up the stairs and wait out in the cold, praying to god your ride will show up at any minute.
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So all of these memories flood through my brain in a matter of seconds before I look to the right again. I see really bright lights and I look closer.
There's a soccer game going on tonight.
I brake for the red light, shake my head, and ask "What the HELL was I thinking?"
Truthfully, I think I've only been to two or three McQuaid dances max. Why my brain chose to remember those particular details I have no bloody fecking clue.
As soon as the light turns green, I step on the gas and hightail my way through South Wedge. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the lovely Pink and Teal Cinema. *Sigh*

Vintage Blog #3: Woad (08/21/2007)

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Etch the markings upon me face
Remember where I've been in time and space
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Strength to my friends
And woe to my foes
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
The blades be sharp and keen
Though our enemies remain unseen
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Towards to the battle we ride
To build the massive surging tide
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
The glorious victory we gain
O'er our own lives do we reign
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Strong arms encircle thee
Strong arms encircle me
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Paint me in blue
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Dawn breaks o'er the hills
Once more to fight the world's ills
Paint me in a deep woad blue
Paint me in blue

Vintage Blog #2: Soon It's Gonna Rain..... (08/17/2007)

The rain falls hard and fast, then slows to a trickle, before the boom of a thunderoll brings the rains again. I long to lie in my bed while visions of what may come flood my consciousness; and every time, without fail, I am alone, though I long to share it with you. In that dark calm that soothes and renews, I long to be held. But I remain alone and therefore I loose my mind to the thoughts of what could be. I drift, wordlessly, into a realm of ebony sky with colors danciing about gracefully. My mind gains its freedom as my body remains where I have left it. Then I hear but little rain, and I only know it is there because of the vehicles that drive by in it. The peace, though still, is broken. And a roll of distant thunder, then almost painfully quiet once more. the sounds of daily life resume around me and I mourn the stillness that was here just moments ago. I have longed to share such a storm with someone lying by my side; those who would have lived far away when I needed them thus. It is something we shall never share. But hope remains, as there is someone I would like to share that perfect stillness with. The symphony of rain and clouds, thunder and light, hearts beating warmly side by side. I crave, I covet this and blatantly envy those who have what I do not. That perfect rai seems as if it were a distant memory of some years ago and had not have had since.Grant unto me that gift one more time lady, for thy friend's sake.

Vintage Blog #1: I Sing The Body Electric (08/07/2007)

How does one love themselves? Is it possible? The unrealistic images, the pressure to do and be all, self-depreciation in the name of politeness seem to diminish us to a point of no return.
Ok, scratch that paragraph, it's emo and it sucks.
So I'm going to write something that some of you may have heard me speak of as of late, but certainly none of you would think I'd have the guts to publish it on the internet. Eeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkk, this is scary.......:breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth: Ok :whew: here I go:
(And to some of you out there, no, I am not getting on the train......)
I want to believe that I like, even love myself. I can appreciate my quirky sense of humor, my creativity, knowledge of crazy facts and details....I can even love my ability to empathize with people, my intuitive nature, and my fierce loyalty to those who have granted the same to me. Despite my obvious weaknesses, which shall not be discussed in the blog, I know that I am a wonderful, unique person worthy of love, attention, and praise.......
Or do I?
But truth be told, I cannot fully love myself based on my metal, emotional, and spiritual factors alone. And here comes the scary part.......
I have to love my body before any other part of myself.
What?!?!?! Isn't that vain, vapid, and a waste of time? Are you trying to objectify yourself in some sort of sick search for self-gratification?
No, no, and no.
My mind et al cannot survive without my body. My body creates, begets, IS life.
I'm sick of the guilt, I'm sick of the rules, I'm sick of the judgment not only imposed by others, but also by myself. I'm sick of punishing my body every time an unfounded snide comment is thrown my way. I'm sick of those vultures who circle you and criticize every morsel on your plate, even before you've brought it to your mouth. Health is one thing, hostage of food and self-hate is another.
So, instead :clears throat and blushes:
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"A Love Song To MY Body"
Warmth flows over me. The dawn of acceptance bekons. I stretch langourously and I choose to feel. Feel, instead of look. When I do finally look, I see beauty. Beauty that calls forth to dispearse the ugliness and shame of this world. I refuse to hide. And I look again. The rounded belly I once despised has since grown a new life.  I have the power to generate and nuture life. I recall the movement of life within in me and my heart floods with joy. Joy not only for that life, but for my own life. For my own life is worthy.
Smooth skin of vanilla envelopes me, as a sea of blue-green eyes pierces through my lovely face to challenge all who would oppose me. Rubied lips speak messages of love and kindness, justice and revenge. Softly shaped ears are honed keen for messages carried on the wind. Sturdy legs and ample hips connect me to the source of unending power and wisdom. The wind rushes through my fiery hair as the warmth of the sun illuminates my womanhood in all its glory. Round, round, and round the lines of my body go, captivating all would would follow those spirals through my body to a place of neverending calm.  For though I am beautiful, mistake this not for meekness. Though beauty edifies and speaks words of love to a wounded heart, abuse it not. Anger aroused sweeps through like a terrible storm to those who would trifle with a woman and disavow her beauty. Beneath the gentle facade, a spine of steel awaits in judgement for those who doth betray beauty. Mercy is not swayed by feeble excuses for the abuses inflicted on the soul of my body. The fire of beauty's anger sweeps through and purges the inequities in its prescence, only leaving the gold that emboldens and the silver that soothes the troubled beauty.
And in that moment, purity is restored to my beauty, which I reclaim once again. I judge myself not. This force of electricity comes onto me suddenly, jolted by the recognition of other beautiful bodies and souls in solidarity. I feel not only my thoughts, but every sense, every nerve sings with the lumescent joy and I feel at home in the womanly body bestowed to me once again. I reacquaint myself with my features, seeing and feeling not fear or shame, but confidence and love.
I walk through the field beside the meandering stream with its rushing waters. The garments of judgement and shame obscure my features no more. I walk upright and tall, prideful in the knowledge and wisdom I have gained.
And I am electrified once more; I need not hide, I refuse to lock away the secrets of my womanhood to those who seek my comfort and joy. To all who ask of me, I shall reveal not only the glorious vision my beauty possesses, but bestow upon them the wonder and awe of themselves, the splendid person I see hiding behind the shadows whose aspersions were cast upon us all. Let us free ourselves from the chains that bind, and forgea place, a tir na og, where we share the beauty and joy we have found for the rest of our days.
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So as I read over what I wrote, I stifle the urge to vilify myself once more. Instead, I proclaim this my brave new step into the life I choose to live.
:Shakes my luscious ass:

P.S. I'm 28.

Three days ago, on March 16, I turned 28 years old. Belated birthday gifts are gratefully accepted. :)

Welcome! Let's Try this Again.....

Hello friends and people I'd like to meet! It is I, the Beckster. This is my millionth attempt to create a blog that I will a). actually keep up with and b). have people actually READ my blog.

While my objective is to regularly write new posts regarding current happenings and musings, I am going to post the best of my "Vintage Posts" from past blog, just for $hits and giggles. (Not to mention it will help populate my pitifully blank slate.)

So, welcome to my evil lair, and let the games begin! Mwa!