I am excited about NaNoWriMo again this year. My friend Jeff teaches English at a middle school, and his accelerated classes are participating in the young writers program. They are quite stoked that they can get a paperback copy of their novels if they reach the word count.

I'm also doing the whole fundraising thing this year. Here's my link in case you want to donate:

http://www.gifttool.com/athon/MyFundraisingPage?ID=1891&AID=777&PID=108683

Not much else is going on. Lightning struck the building where I work last night, frying the whole fire alarm system and the swipe card apparati that allow residents access to the building. So I've had a fun night of getting up 42 times an hour to let residents in and explain why their cards don't work. And three other staff members have had fire watch duty - touring the buildings every hour on the hour to make sure that nothing is aflame, since nobody's smoke detector works. Good times.

I just finished Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I read this book on account of multiple recommendations, and I'm so glad. I love it and its author and have a fantasy that he will be driving through Denton (with his wife, of course) some day and stop for coffee. And I will be there, and we will have a conversation about coffee and life and other impossibly sweet books that I might read over the course of the next year. I'm certain that reading this book made me a nicer person.

I know that people who have read the very same copy as I feel the same way. And this is how I know (Maggie, stop reading). When I got to a particularly sweet/sad passage, there was written in the margin (I know, Maggie - we aren't supposed to write in books, even if it was in pencil) the words, "This part made me cry a little." Written next to it - "I agree." I added, "Me, too!" This book brings people (albeit slightly renegade people who dare to write in library books in pencil) together.

Lately, I've found myself wondering if there's a woman out there who has a life that she hates. Who is married but feels trapped and doesn't want to be married anymore to this man who is so different from her (he refuses to be still! Can she just get some time to catch her breath, please?). Who owns property that she rents out at a price lower than its market value because she feels that she should because it's a nice thing to do or because her husband is addicted to mercy, not because she really loves to do it. Or maybe she's an attorney - defender of the people. Or a writer with an impressive library. Who would love to have a job (or two!) where she can just go - clock in and out - and then leave without it following her home. Who is debt free and uses the money she used to budget for her student loan payment to travel. Who wishes she could take her vacations alone just to have a spare moment for herself. Or maybe she could just get a cute little apartment and have lots of moments for herself. Who has a little girl (perhaps her name is Georgia) who loves to play in the dirt and watch things grow. Who is exhausted from cleaning muddy fingerprints off FREAKIN' EVERYTHING. Who is thankful for close friends to lunch and brunch with when she's not busy saving the world. Who lies awake at 4:00 a.m., listening to her husband snore, and wishes that she also had a close friend awake at that hour whom she could call to talk about all these feelings that she's not supposed to be having.

Who longs to go but stays because she is scared to confront the person she fears leaving will make her.

I want to meet her. I want to ask her about her life - the ups and the downs. I want to tell her that it's ok.

I'd also like to see if she would mind switching.

I think it would be a fair trade. We each have good things to offer in a life. We both have great friends. I'd even let her keep hers. You know, if I could keep mine. She can't have them all. And my apartment is adorable and, more importantly, completely mine. We both have made choices that have certain advantages. But we both also feel weighed down by the disadvantages and troubled by the increasing realization that our souls don't quite fit the lives we have.

I believe that we could help each other out.

She longs for freedom and autonomy. She wants to drink too much coffee because it's all right if she stays up all night reading chick lit. She wants to go clubbing without having to find a babysitter (hell - she wants to do anything without having to find a babysitter). She wants a simple job (or two!) that doesn't consume her entire life. She wants to have time to blog.

I long for a husband with downright idealistic convictions. I want a job (or two!) that I consider a passion, not just a fun place to do time. I want to go to Italy without having to live like a refugee while I'm there. I want Georgia to crawl into my lap and tell me how she got her clothes stained with grass (probably the same way mine are stained with coffee - with much love). And when I can't sleep in the middle of the night, I want to have someone to cuddle (...etc.) with. Even if he snores.

Where is she? And is she wondering where I am?

There is actually a book called Everything I Needed to Know about Women I Learned by Reading Twilight: A Vampire's Guide to Eternal Love.

I am horrified.

It's a book for men about how this teen fantasy story can help your marriage. So a healthy marriage can only be had in a *cough*codependent*cough* relationship with the undead?

Or is it just with undead who sparkle?

I doubt quite seriously anyone could learn anything about me (a woman, just to be clear) by reading this book. I am offended on behalf of all grown women who want real relationships with actual humans.

(No offense to any of you who read and liked the books. You know what? I take that back. Go ahead and take offense. Your books are stupid.)

I'm reading a lot of Nouwen these days - most recently, his book of prayers when he was with the Genesee. Part of one of them really expresses a lot of where I am right now. And when I thumbed through to find it so that I could share it with you, I noticed that it was the entry he wrote on my birthday. Interesting.

Excerpt from the March 18 entry of A Cry for Mercy -

"It seems as if I am standing on one side of a huge canyon and see how I should grow toward you, live in your presence and serve you, but cannot reach the other side of the canyon where you are. I can speak and write, preach and argue about the beauty and goodness of the life I see on the other side, but how, O Lord, can I get there? Sometimes I even have the painful feeling that the clearer the vision, the more aware I am of the depth of the canyon.

"Am I doomed to die on the wrong side of the abyss? Am I destined to excite others to reach the promised land while remaining unable to enter there myself? Sometimes I feel imprisoned by my own insights and 'spiritual competence.' You alone, Lord, can reach out to me and save me. You alone.

"I can only keep trying to be faithful, even though I feel faithless most of the time. What else can I do but keep praying to you, even when I feel dark; to keep writing about you, even when I feel numb; to keep speaking in your name, even when I feel alone. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Have mercy on me, a sinner. Amen."

Dear Self,

When coming home from class, do not detour to finish listening to the song. I don't care if it's Augustana. I don't care whom or what good times it reminds you of.

Go. Directly. Home. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
________________________________________________

I was hit by a bicycle while driving in my car on campus yesterday. Yes. You read that right. I didn't hit a bicycle. I was hit by one. How does that even happen?

Do you remember that Gilmore Girls episode (I think 1st season) when Rory was running late to school, and a deer plowed into the side of the Jeep when she was stopped at a stop sign? It was like that. It was very much reminiscent of the Rory-hit-by-a-deer scene. I thought when watching it, "How absurd. That would never occur in real life." But oh yes. Yes it could. If a human walking (or riding, in this case) upright can broadside a car, why not a deer? It could totally happen.

The guy is fine. He was a little later to class than he planned, but he's fine. I think I was more shaken than he was. He apologized for denting my car (I actually don't mind dents with stories...and this is a great story). I'm just glad he's ok.

I am having second (ok, fifth...sixth) thoughts about OKCupid. People are freaks.

Dear Foot Fetish Fella,

I am an interesting person, dammit. We can talk about more than my feet. Books? Oh. You don't read. Movies? Oh. You don't like to leave the house much. General sex? Oh. You're not interested. So let me get this straight - the only thing you want to discuss are the various slimy things you can do to my adorable, precious feet? This conversation was only five lines long, but it seemed so much longer. Sorry, fella. My feet and I are not interested.

Dear Married But Separated Fella,

I will admit - I don't really get the whole separated-but-still-living-together thing. I don't think that I could live in the house with someone I hadn't been involved with in eight years, just to stay together for the kids. I support your choice to do so, though. Sometimes you just do the best you can with whatever crappy situation you are in, and this is what you've chosen as the best. Great for you. But the mere fact that you were honest about it does not in any way obligate me to go along with a friends with benefits situation that you have admitted (up front...I know...I get it...HONEST... but go ahead - keep selling it) is what you are looking for. Your honesty, while appreciated, is expected, not extraordinary. You won't be getting a medal (or anything else) for it from me.

Dear Cant spel wurth shit fela

Wut teh hil is ur problim? Iz enewun rily that bad a spelr? I shud not haf to red ur riten ot loud in ordr tu git wat u r sain.

...

I think I'll stick to the bar. At least at the bar, what I see is what I get, for the most part. And there's beer there. Happy.

Sunday night, Tammy, Matt and I went to see Riders in the Sky. For those of you who don't know, this is a group of yodeling cowboy singers (man, if Craig Ferguson's monkey puppet would perform to one of their songs, that would pretty much make my life). They do some of their own stuff, but they also sing some old standards from Gene Autry and the like. Anyway, Tammy and I grew up with them, so we were excited, and Matt agreed to drive.

Observations:

- Riders in the Sky are just as much fun for us as adults as they were for us as children.
- When picnicking in the future - don't forget the wine.
- It is perfectly ok in an open air atmosphere to sing along with the music. You sing away, tone deaf guy! Don't let people ruin your fun!
- I love little kids with mock swords (little kids with real ones - not ok - unless they're learning to use them properly). They're hilarious.
- Twenty years later, Don't Fence Me In is still one of my favorite songs of all time.
- Mosquitos do not like the smell of lemon. Ants, however, have no problem with it whatsoever.

Last night, I attended the funeral of John Gossett, who was department chair of the Communication Department when I was in undergrad/grad school. He was 57 and, after a long illness, finally lost to liver disease.

Observations:

- Social anxiety, thy name is Suzanne. I was so nervous to see people I hadn't seen in so long, I almost talked myself out of going. I do not like this freakish, sudden onset of shyness.
- I drop things when I'm nervous. It's a good thing I only had three things in my hand. I might have never made it to my seat.
- I hate the shirt I wore. I'm giving it away. Life is too short to wear clothing you don't like.
- I love the idea of an open mic at a funeral. Everyone who wanted to say something got to do so. It's a risky venture with a group of COMM grads, but it worked out nicely. Lots of great stories...and just allusions to the stories that are perhaps best not shared in church.
- I accidentally sat by Todd, whom I went to grad school with, who was one of the people I really wanted to see. So yay.
- Karen (Gossett's wife) was in fine form. She started the open mic by telling the story about how he talked about having his funeral all planned and ready. All she could find were the hymns he wanted sung. "And nowhere did I see anything that said, 'Don't let Karen talk!'" He was always talking about how she tends to go on and on, whereas he prefers things be more succinct (one of his favorite words).
- I'm amazed at how many Gossett-isms truly shaped my academic (and even some of my personal) life.
- It is possible to be successful and also a good friend. Gossett was proof that you can love politics and loyalty (and be good at both) at the same time.

Note to self: If you work midnight to eight and teach all morning, you do not need to have plans every evening. A girl's gotta sleep sometime.

I'm so tired. I'm going to go home tomorrow and sleep forever.

I'm hyperemotional, too. Probably on account-a the *omgtired*

Tammy and I had a Tupperware party tonight. It was so much fun, and we got so much free loot. *win*

*yawns*

Have a good day, all!

For those of you who don't know, during the summer, the dorm I work at turns into a hotel-esque business for people coming to campus for conferences or seminars. I am not generally a fan of summer conferences for many reasons, most of which you probably heard last summer and will probably hear again some time this summer, especially when I've had a year like this year when I really liked (and thus miss) our residents.

We have our first conference in the building this week. This is probably my favorite conference, because they are grad students, and they are gracious, respect our building and our staff, and have grand discussions about world politics and social issues in the lobby after they've had a few at the bar.

Oh, yes. And they're gorgeous, for the most part. It's apparently a prerequisite for the program.

Earlier this week, I was talking to one of said conference guests, and he was charming and a little flirty - but not inappropriately so (although admittedly, I'm not that good a judge of such things). And I got flustered. He asked me a very simple question - where was the media library? He wanted to know if he could park there. I've been in Denton, on or around this campus since 1993. I know the answers to these questions. But could I tell him? Oh, no. I was flustered and stammering, and the more I stammered, the more flirty he got (he liked the blushing...yeah...meant to do that.).

Finally, I managed to give a very lengthy answer to what was a very simple question, and he thanked me. He said, "And we're really enjoying our stay in your building. It's been nice."

And I replied, "I really enjoy you."

What I meant to say (and what I quickly followed up with as he was now smirking and trying not to laugh too much) was, "We are glad you are here....glad you're enjoying your stay." Or something like that.

*headdesk*

Sometimes, I think that they keep me around just for the comic relief.