Months ago when I was rereading my old journals from college I realized just how cathartic writing had been for me. I won’t claim to be great at it or anything but it honestly helped me work out things that crowded my thinking back then. It’s no secret that my life has been far from rosy these last few years and it dawned on me that I ought to pick writing back up again as its something I’ve missed.
The next step was sharing some of my thoughts with, well, anyone who cared to read them, hence this blog, Is Yesterday’s Tomorrow Today. A place for me to share my reflections, musings, and meanderings.
While the meaning behind my blog’s name isn’t exactly the same as Stereophonic’s song Is Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today? it was most defiantly inspired by the song. (Stereophonics are a Welch band that formed in the early 90s. If you haven’t heard of them, by all means go check them out.)
I was going to write about Balance and my personal mantra, “in all things, balance”, but it seemed to be too much of a heady topic to tackle at 10:30 at night. So instead I’m going to write about something that had been on my mind of late, that’s a little less serious. Growing old(er).
Aging isn’t something I really ever thought too much about. It never really bothered me when my friends back in college, who were just a year or two younger than I, nicknamed me “Grandma” and gave me all sorts of crap about being older than dirt. I played along and pretended to be annoyed, but in all honesty it was funny. I wasn’t really phased when I turned 30, in fact, I thought it hysterical. Forty didn’t even bother me, though I think that was more due to the fact that I had 18/19 (ack, math) month year old running around and I was too tired to care.
Now I’m sitting here at 48, my 30 year high school reunion is next month and the big 5-0 is less than 2 years away. I’ve got more white hairs on my head than ever and a crazy urge to cover them all up. I’ve never dyed my hair for that purpose before, only when I wanted a different look, you know? Maybe I should have started using those anti-aging creams a decade ago? It bugs me that I’m even thinking this stuff.
Overall, I feel good, besides the weight issue, but I am getting that under control. Sure I might hear some pops and crackles when I stand up, but my knees don’t hurt; my back seems fine. I’m left wondering why is turning 50 bothering me? I mean, I don’t feel like I’m going to be 50. It feels like some cosmic joke.
Growing up I heard many stories about the adventures my Dad and his younger brother had as boys growing up in Des Moines, Iowa, such as the time they were playing on a trestle train bridge that spanned the river. They were in the middle of the bridge when they realized a train was coming and that the only thing they could do was to climb down and hang on to the trestles as the train rumbled over them. Once they caught a giant snapping turtle at Brooksie’s Lake and brought it home in the basket of my Dad’s bike. Grandma made them get rid of it. They would torment their older sister with garter snakes, once releasing a dozen of them near where she had to hang up the laundry. More than once Dad told the story about how they’d threw rocks at the bums by the river and once one of the men came after them with a knife. I’m not sure how embellished these tales were regardless they were full of mischief and one wonders how those two ever survived to adulthood.
My Uncle’s health hasn’t been good for many years but he always seemed to bounce back from whatever recent setback he had. I do not exaggerate when I say that it seemed like he had nine lives. We were relieved every time he bounced back.
The last two years were incredibly crappy for our clan. We lost my Dad to complications arising from his PSP and Lewy Body Dementia in March. My Uncle had made a miraculous recovery from his most recent health scare and was able to visit my Dad before the end, however shortly after my Dad’s funeral my Uncle health worsened and he could not recover from this most recent bout. He passed away this Friday.
I am sure that there are many, many stories of the adventures of “Wally and The Beav” that we will never know, but it is a comfort knowing that they are together now and probably up to no good.
I’m rewarding myself this upcoming weekend with a road trip with my oldest friend back to the place we went to college. It’s been a trying last couple of years and I deserve this time away to focus on my own happiness. Selfish maybe?
We’ve made some tentative plans with a friend who still live in the area. Other plans may develop, or not. I plan on an early morning walk around campus and see what’s changed. I haven’t been back on campus since the year after I graduated 20 odd years ago and I’d like to see if I can find my old dorm. I think it’d be a trip to visit the painting lab. Maybe we’ll have breakfast at Mike’s Cafe or some late night cheese balls at Perkins. I’d even drive out to Trailways if it was still open.
Also, the agenda is some Chicken Connection. I don’t know how long this place has been around and if I had to guess I’d say its near forever. Its a simple place that serves basic fried chicken with a side of broasted potatoes with the most delicious sour cream/onion dip. I’m drooling just thinking about it. Simple, inexpensive but tasty college fare. I still dream about those broasted potatoes.
Later on our way back we’re planning to stop and visit other college friends (one of my closest friends and her husband) at their home for dinner. It’s been too long since I’ve seen those two beloved people. I hope to stay better connected with them and all the others who mean so much to me.
It will be a good weekend, no matter what’s accomplished.
I’ve been away for the past couple weeks, finishing up school business and taking a much needed getaway to my niece’s high school graduation. With all that happened with my Dad’s illness and eventual passing in March my family needed something to celebrate. It was a busy time planning and getting ready for her Grad Party, East Coast style. No garage parties out there, that’s for sure! I’ve lived in the Midwest my whole life and I still cannot grasp why people through parties in dirty garages. I digress, my fancy party planning ideas aren’t what I want to talk about.
It was good to get away, be around family and partake in life’s fun like shop and take my daughter the highlights of the various Smithsonian museums on the Mall in D.C. The weather was so un-Virginia in June. Next to no humidity and cool. Even things like airplanes and airports went completely smooth and unexciting. As good as it was I was looking forward to my home, my own bed and my own space.
I arrive home, shuffle through the mail that arrived while I was away. Mostly junk mail and bills, a few thank you notes from my students and other graduates. Two red envelopes with Return to Sender stamped on them caught my eye. “Odd”, I think, I don’t remember sending out any envelopes of that color recently. I mean, Christmas, yeah. I picked them up to inspect them. They were addressed to the nursing home my Dad was living in, sent by me and my daughter. His Christmas cards, that apparently never arrived. I felt like I just got punched in the gut and overwhelmingly sad that he never got the stupid cards or the drawing my daughter made for him.
They are still sitting on my kitchen table. Unopened. I don’t know what to do with them. I can’t bring myself to open them. I certainly don’t want to keep them, I think, but it seems almost sacrilegious or somehow betraying my Dad if I throw them away. I really don’t know what to do with them. I could save them and hide them away, but then, I’ll come across them again someday and feel like complete shit again.
Ugh. Why couldn’t you have failed completely on this particular mission United States Postal Service? Then at least I’d never have to think about Christmas greetings that missed the mark.
the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
I lived in six different places growing up. My family would relocate because of my Dad’s work. As a result the word “home” doesn’t represent a specific wooden or brick building filled with artifacts and memories of my growing up. Instead, home to me is simply the place where my family is at.
My Great-Grandfather
This past March my Dad passed away from a long illness. We had talked about burying him in the town my parent’s currently resided in. Even though my folks had lived there for 30 years the connections and ties to the town are few. It is possible that my Mom and youngest sister, who lived with my parents, will eventually move from town to places undecided. Burying Dad there, just didn’t seem right.
My Great-Grandfather Dr. George Allen “Dec Bebe” take around the time he graduated from the University of Iowa
For years we’ve known that there was an extra plot at the cemetery where my Grandparents and Great-Grandparents are buried. Decades ago my Great-Grandfather, “Doc Bebe”, had purchased a family plot at the local cemetery. I never knew my Great-Grandfather as he died while my mother was quite young herself, but I had heard many stories about him and I had already been a beneficiary of his foresight and generosity. Doc was a general practitioner of medicine in this small town in Iowa. He delivered babies, saved lives and even helped those less fortunate through the Great Depression. He and his wife built a lovely home there, in which my own grandparents moved into later in life. I have so many memories of the house and a connection to the town.
Grandma aged 16
My Grandma, my great-grandparent’s only child, married my Grandpa who she met at the hospital where she was a nurse and he the patient. For reasons I won’t get into here, my Grandpa was an alcoholic with an abusive mean streak. (I have no memories of my Grandpa like this as he stopped drinking when I was 2). I think my Great-Grandfather always felt like he had to look out for my Grandma, my mom and uncles. After my Grandma passed away we were discovered previously unknown bank accounts in my Grandma’s name. With the money from the inheritance, Mom was able to pay for my two sisters and my college educations.
We thought that extra plot was the final gift from my Great-Grandfather, one last way of taking care of his family. We did some research and discovered that when Mom’s time came, she too could be buried in the same plot as my Dad, if they were both cremated. It seemed perfect. Then, after my Dad passed my Uncle was speaking with the cemetery caretaker about the burial we had some unexpected but not unwelcome news. Not only was there an extra plot, but there were 8 more plots! This man, my Great-Grandfather, who I never met, was still looking out for his family. It wasn’t long before my other sister and her husband announced that they too would be buried in these extra plots.
My Grandpa as a young man.
The day of my Dad’s burial arrived we drove down to that small little town in Iowa that I hadn’t been to for such a long time, yet it still was familiar. There is a new Casey’s gas station, but the same grocery store, no longer named Ernie’s, was still there, looking much the same. The stately Victorian houses that lined the streets for as long as I can remember still stood proud and beckoning of another time. I’m pretty sure that the drug store with the authentic soda fountain from the 50’s that my sisters and I would frequent when we stayed at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I half expected some stranger to come up to me and ask if I were Ned’s granddaughter, as they used to. We even saw the old house, looking very blue and a bit worse for wear, but it still was there.
The cemetery was oddly welcoming. It was a sunny, but very chilly day. From the memory of my grandparents’ funerals, the cemetery was surrounded by corn fields, lonely and desolate. Generally I find cemeteries creepy, but today, though it was surrounded by new homes, peaceful. But this, surrounded by my family that have always loved me, both living and those who had gone before I felt at home. I felt a connection to a this place. While I don’t often think of my death or what will come after, I did, at that moment feel that this was where I should be when my it is my time. It felt like home.
My Great-Grandparents, Grandparents, Mom and her brothers
I saw this challenge on another blog I came across the other day. It’s an older challenge but it seemed like a fun thing to do. So, me, liking fun things, accepted the challenge.
Who in your opinion is the sexiest man or woman who ever lived?
I thought this would be an easy question. Find someone who you think is attractive and BAM! Question answered. Not so easy, if you’re me I guess. I first decided not to name anyone that I know in my real life, to avoid any embarrassment and this is just supposed to be a bit of fun. So I limited my scope to celebrities. Initially I was debating over Chris Hemsworth or Chris Pratt. Thor or Star Lord? Both equally delightful to look at and are funny individuals. (Humor is something I’ve always found extremely sexy, more so than delicious abs, you know?). But there was that word, ever. That’s a lot of pressure because there’s my old, longtime celebrity crush, Val Kilmer. Back in the days of Real Genius or Willow there was nobody finer. That nose…those curvy lips. *sigh* But these days, I’m sad to admit, Val is looking a bit weathered. He did not age like fine wine. So sad. Should I choose baseball players, Anthony Rizzo or Javy Baez? And Kris Bryant has such dreamy eyes? In the end, I think I settled on an actor, who is not widely known, who embodies many of the features that I find most attractive in a man. Warm brown eyes, dark, dark, wavy hair, a beautiful, but imperfect smile. He’s a funny, humble and supposedly nice dude. I chose Aidan Turner. An Irish (and the sexy Irish accent doesn’t hurt either) actor. He once broke the internet. No kidding. Just look up Aidan Turner Scything and you’ll so totally understand why. I believe some British mag posted behind the scene pictures of the scything scene from Poldark the day after that episode showed in the UK. Apparently enough people clicked on it that it did crash websites and the internet went down and all sorts of general mayhem commenced. Ok, I exaggerate a bit, but it did happen.
2. What food do you rarely eat and why?
I never, ever eat olives because they are simply vile, disgusting, smelly, vomit-inducing slimy balls of salt. I rarely get to eat crab cakes although they are one of my favorite things ever. I live in the Midwest and finding fresh, good seafood is next to impossible, unless you are willing to pay a fortune. So when I do get a chance to go out east to visit family and crab cakes are on the menu, that’s what I order and enjoy every single second.
3. What would your closest friends be most surprised about you?
Honestly, I don’t know. There’s plenty of things about me that most people I know would be surprised at, but with my closest friends, I’m pretty much an open book anymore. I guess maybe about my struggles with learning disabilities as a kid? It never was a secret, but then again it wasn’t something that I really talked about.
4. Who is the most famous person you’ve met and what were the circumstances?
I’ve been to many concerts as live music is one of my favorite things to do. I’ve met many musicians (Don’t go thinking “groupie” thoughts at me. Never have because I think it’s gross). Some were very famous at one time (Brett Micheals, Vinnie Paul, Sebastian Bach, etc.) but there’s just nothing special about a “Hi, can I have an autograph or a picture?” I have a friend who worked at a music magazine and I was her +1 when she got tickets for meet and greats. Again, nothing special. I once had a pretty intense stare down with Chris Cornell, a very funny story, but I didn’t actually meet him. Once I ran into Jack Blades, my middle school celebrity crush and lead singer of Night Ranger, in an antique store in La Crosse, WI. I did go up and have a conversation with him, but as I was internally freaking out like a 13 year old so I don’t recall much of it. Afterwards I would make an attempt to get in my car and start it, only to discover the key wouldn’t fit and my seats were white and no longer black. Yep, I totally got in someone else’s car and attempted to start it. My car, in my defense, was right next to the car I tried to steal and on the outside they looked exactly the same. This happened years before Caroline’s Spine came into my life so run ins with fame tended to make me loose my mind. Tulsa was Caroline’s Spine’s home turf, but they had a large regional following in Wisconsin. Often they would bring their friends’ bands up to open for them. Mad Verb, Jenny LaBow, Phil Marshall, Midwest Kings to name just a few. The first time I saw Midwest Kings they were just kids and they had some line-up changes over the years. The last time I saw them they brought along a guy named David Cook. He had been in a band that was part of the Caroline’s Spine/Tulsa scene and though I didn’t know him, he was friends with many of my friends. I can’t remember much about the circumstances meeting him, I mean he was just another guy in a band at that point. I purchased his CD and I do remember being part of a conversation with him, but that’s about all. Not very many months later it was revealed that he was going to be a contestant on American Idol. He won his season and made a successful career following his win. Sadly, I ended up having to sell the CD I bought that night for $500. I had been reduced to part-time at my job and needed the money.
5. What famous person would you most like to have as a close friend and why?
I could choose Anthony Rizzo or Javy Baez because I think they are probably nice people and could get me a season pass to all the home Cub games, but that just seems weird to me. I really don’t know how to answer this one. Maybe Chris Pratt because he’s so funny. Still weird.
6. What is your biggest regret in life?
As my life is far from over (knock on wood) and I assume there might be more regrets up there hanging out to mug my future, I’ll go with my life thus far. I guess, it would probably be my ability to hold a grudge. Life is really too short to let stupid stuff get in the way of friendships. At the time it might seem important, but really, most of it has just been stupid. I’m trying to be better at letting stuff go.
7. What is the strangest pet you’ve ever had?
I’ve not had many pets in my life, and this might not really be strange or exotic overall, but it was the most unique pet I’ve had. For a few months I took care of an iguana named Nine, named thusly because it was missing one toe.
8. What is the item of clothing you’ve owned for the longest period of time?
Mine is a t=shirt but the design is the exact same.
I went to visit my college roommate one Spring Break at her home in the Chicago area. We went shopping at an outlet mall one day and I found the greatest Cub shirt I’ve ever seen. This would have been in 1992-93 and the Cubs were smack dab in the middle of their epic World Series drought. The shirt said, “If it takes forever” along the top and on the bottom it said “Loyalty, Faithfulness, Dedication”. I consider this my good luck shirt.
9. What object in your house holds the most sentimental value to you?
I know that I’m an overly sentimental person. I have lots of stuff to prove it. However when it comes down to it I think my photos and scrapbooks probably mean the most to me. After all they are the snapshots (pun intended) of my memories. I have pictures of my youth, of my own daughter, from my days in college and my “Spine Box” of photos and mementoes from my days going to shows and hanging out with my friends.
10. What question do you wish you’d asked a deceased relative but didn’t?
Having been interested in my family’s stories, I’ve asked plenty of questions from my grandparents so I’m not really sure what I’d ask. Maybe I’d ask my Grandpa if his parents liked the Cubs too? If they did that would make me a 4th generation Cubs fan.
11. Who in the world (relative or not) do you most resemble?
Margaret Albert, my 2x Great Grandmother. I got her nose!
It has been said that my daughter is a mini-me. Other than that, I don’t think I really resemble my parents all that much. If I had to pick someone, I would say that I look a bit like my Great-Great Grandmother Maggie Albert. We have the same nose.
12. What is your favorite footwear and why?
When I was younger I would have said it would be my black leather boots, because they were cool and made me taller. These days though, my poor old feet rebel if I wear anything with any sort of heel. Today, it’s comfort over fashion, so my Nike tennis shoes would be my current favorite.
So many people have voiced an opinion about the series finale of Game of Thrones in the past week or so. Nothing makes my opinion more important than any other, but as I loved both the books and the show, why not?
Many years ago I was pursuing my sister’s bookshelf. I picked up this big Fantasy book that had caught my eye. It was the first book in the Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin. “Was this any good?” i asked. She let me have the book and I once I found time to read it, I could not put it down.
It was everything I loved about the Fantasy genre; rich in detail, a imaginative world in which I could immerse myself and characters that felt like they could be real. As I was reading the book I thought I knew what was going to happen, because let’s be honest, as creative as the Fantasy genre is, most books follow a reluctant hero arc, similar to Tolkien’s books. Three fourths of the way through the book Eddard Stark, the seemingly apparent main protagonist gets his head lopped off by teenage tyrant Joffrey. I couldn’t imagine how this story was going to move forward.
I tore into the next book, Clash of Kings. Not only were new characters introduced but new views were introduced to the characters from the first book. Characters who I thought were villains in the first book no longer appeared like they could be. The same could be said for who I thought were “the good guys”. Full-fleshed character development! Nothing was certain and anything could happen.
Years later I heard the rumor that HBO was developing a series from these books. I was hesitant to hope that it would be any good. Historically, the Fantasy genre has not been transitioned well into the big/small screen. True, The Lord of the Rings, books had been received well by the general population and were beautiful movies that remained true to the spirit of Tolkien.
Overall I this HBO did justice to Martin’s story. Westeros was alive in all of its horrible violence. My beloved Jon Snow, in all of his sad-sorry-self was real. Peter Dinklage was absolutely perfect as Tyrion. My stoic Breanne was flesh and blood. It was excellently cast and I don’t think I could have asked for more from the series. As a whole I feel the entire series, seasons 1 – 8, were well done. My only complaint, which I feel is small potatoes, is that I wish the last season was fleshed out a bit more. I know many were disappointed with the ending, but I was half expecting it.
A co-worker and I were discussing GoT one day. He asked who I thought was going to sit on the Iron Throne. I explained that initially I thought it would be Jon Snow because that’s who it would be if this was story followed the traditional Fantasy reluctant hero arc. I mean, all signs were pointing at him, like a flashing neon sign. I said that this was George R.R. Martin’s story, the one who brought us The Red Wedding, Ned’s execution and other WTF moments, so it’s going to be someone we don’t expect at all, like Bran.
I feel sad to see the show end, though I am happy that it appears that I have Winds of Winter to look forward to sometime next year. I fully expect some things to be different, yet the same, and hopefully I’ll get my wish of a more fleshed out story. And by the looks of it, if the spin-offs are half as good as GoT was I’ll be subscribing to HBO now for years to come.
“You shouldn’t worry about college for your daughter,” Mrs. Fullmer, my first grade teacher commented to my Mom. “She’s probably not going to graduate from high school because she’s never going to learn to read.” Mrs. Fullmer didn’t say what she said to be mean or cruel, but it was what she perceived to be the truth. She was concerned about me and my future, and students with the issues I was presenting didn’t succeed in her experience. Mom didn’t tell me what my teacher said about me until many years later, yet even back then I knew I was struggling to keep up with my peers. I couldn’t read, the letters kept flipping around, b’s were d’s and what direction did “L” go again? I was frickin’ stupid, I thought.
I’ve decided to write about my experience with learning disabilities because my journey is worth sharing. Despite all the set backs and road blocks I’ve become a fairly successful adult. I can read, I graduated from high school AND college (4 times to be exact). As I teacher I have not shied away from sharing my story with students and parents who’ve needed to hear it, and while I’ve never made a secret of it, I don’t think I’ve actually shared with very many people. Probably because there are so many misconceptions about learning disabilities and I didn’t want to deal with them.
As a student that was struggling in school I was tested by the school to see if I would qualify for special ed. It can be a long process. Eventually I qualified in 3rd grade. I was diagnosed with dyslexia, obviously, dysgraphia and dyscalculia. All types of specific learning disabilities. So what are specific learning disabilities? It is a condition where the brain has difficulties comprehending or processing information. In short, the the does not “learn” in a typical manner, just differently. There are many more kinds of learning disabilities than the ones that I was diagnosed. Most people are aware of what dyslexia is as it is quite common. Letters, words and even numbers can be reversed, flipped or jumbled. Dyscalculia concerns math and the difficulties learning and/or comprehending mathematical concepts. Less well known is dysgraphia which affects a person’s writing. It can cause difficulties with poor handwriting, spelling and trouble putting thoughts to paper. For me, it was spelling and poor handwriting, which to this day is awful, but is much improved from what it used to be.
I received services through 9th grade. Usually the the subjects that I struggled in where replaced, meaning I would go to the special ed room and have lessons separate from my classmates. I worked with students who were at my academic level, not grade level. It was comfortable and I didn’t feel as stupid as felt in the general classroom. Testing would happen every couple years or so to see if I still qualified. I was tested at the beginning on 7th grade and my reading level was at a 4th grade level. There was an issue where my IEP (Individualized Educational Plan) was not complied, so I had to be retested again, 6 months later. My reading level had jumped up to college level. This was amazing! What happened?
It could have been any number of things. Or maybe all of them. My mom has always said that I’m one of the most resilient and courageous people she has ever known. Not much keeps me down. Also, I wanted to read. Badly. My life’s goal at the age of 9 was to read all of the Black Stallion books by Walter Farley. (Which I did achieve 4 years later). Mom took us to the public library weekly. She talked to the Children’s Liberian, who spent countless hours helping me find books. I had some wonderful teachers who believed in me and taught me that I could do anything I wanted. Mrs. Knoll, Mrs. Hennessey and Mrs. Brown taught me the skills and tools I needed to work around my non-typical brain. I had weekly therapy appointments at Easter Seals. There was a theory that my learning difficulties were connected to my inner ear. You see, I never, ever got dizzy, until one day during my therapy I got so dizzy I felt like I was going to puke.
I was phased out of special ed at the end of 9th grade. I probably didn’t need it anymore, but the particular school district we lived in at the time did not do me any favors by pushing me out of the program at that time. In 9th grade my classmates had all learned Algebra. I had not. The high school (10th-12th grades) did not offer Algebra, so I there I was with no way to advance in math. I did well enough in high school, took some college prep classes despite school counselors thinking I wasn’t capable. However, the lack of math would come back to haunt me.
While I knew from a young age that I was going to be an artist, the idea of being a teacher did not occur to me until I was a senior in high school. Even then, I didn’t pursue a teaching degree until my 2nd BA degree. In my state in order to become a teacher you had to pass a test called the PPST. The PPST had thee sections: writing, reading and math. I wasn’t worried about the reading or writing aspects of the test, but the math portion included Algebra, which as you recall I didn’t have any knowledge of. So back to the community college I went for a quarter, took a watercolor class for fun and audited an introductory Algebra class. Initially I was a bit afraid of the class, hence the audit instead of taking it for a grade, but I shouldn’t have been worried. I actually loved it. It was like solving little logic puzzles. Who knew algebra would be fun? My professor did keep track of my grade and I would have received an A. I passed the PPST the first time. Yay me! I still wonder though, if my old school district had given me the chance to continue on in math, what else might I have achieved?
Throughout my years as a teacher I have run across students who have had similar academic struggles. I’ve shared and encouraged when appropriate with my students and their parents. I feel that I have a very unique perspective that can help them. Many have also gone on and achieved their goals in becoming successful, happy people. I can only hope I helped.
Remember how on Facebook how your friends would post Notes (remember that feature?) and make lists on topics such as 50 concerts you’ve been too, how many states you’ve been too or my personal favorite If You’ve Read More Than 6 Books, You’re Like So Super Smart! I wrote my fair share back in the day but I ran across one I never finished in an old journal. So I thought, eh, why not finish it? So here are 25 Random Facts About Me. (I have a bad feeling that this might get all long and wordy and probably not all that exciting. Apologies, I guess.)
1 . I love filling out forms. Like seriously, filling in the blanks is so satisfying.
2. My first album was Sonny and Cher Live! that I got for my 3rd birthday from my family. The first album I bought for myself was Olivia Newton John’s Greatest Hits, though my first 45rpm was Rick Springfield’s Don’t Talk to Strangers. In 6th grade I bought my first rock album, Quiet Riot’s Mental Health. I guess it was all uphill (or downhill) from there.
3. I have swinophobia. Yes, I am terrified of pigs. My heart races, and I panic if I come face to face with one. I think it’s such a stupidly weird phobia to have and I laugh about it, but the fear is real.
4. I never went to my High School Prom or any of the reunions.
5. I have 12,445 songs in my music library, but this does not include anything on vinyl. My taste in music is pretty eclectic but most of my music is from various rock genres, the blues and folk music.
6. The smell of olives makes me nauseous.
7. I have dyslexia (and a few other specific learning disabilities). It’s not something that bothers me any longer but when I was younger it was very bad. So bad in fact that my 1st grade teacher told my Mom not to worry about college for me because it was likely I’d never learn to read well enough to even graduate high school. (Nice, huh?) Well I did graduate high school, and I have two BA degrees as well as a Master’s degree. I can read just fine, probably better than most people. Maybe I sound like an egotistical jerk-face right now, but you know what? I worked very hard to overcome my obstacles so a little bragging isn’t amiss. I do feel that my struggles has given me an unique perspective that benefit my students.
8. I absolutely hate being told that I can’t do something. Example: My high school counselor said that I wouldn’t do well in a certain class that I wanted to take, because “you know, that’s a college prep class”. Oh really lady? “And where to you think I’m going?” I replied full of indigent anger. I took the class anyway and I got a great grade.
9. I absolutely hate a dirty bathroom. The rest of the house might be a total wreck but my potty room is squeaky clean.
10. I once sat front row center for a Weird Al Yankovic concert. I purchased the ticket the day of the show too. Also, I could have met Al just before the show. It’s actually an amusing story.
11. I go to a lot of events alone. Movies, concerts, etc. It didn’t used to be that way and I’m not really sure why its that way now but it really doesn’t bother me all that much. I guess I don’t have to share my popcorn.
12. The song Wildfire still makes me cry.
13. I remember making the decision to be an artist when I was in 3rd grade. However I really got into computer programing in high school and I almost went in that direction.
14. Pain medication doesn’t work on me like normal people. (Think Novocain, epidurals). Found that out when I went in for the c-section I needed when my daughter was born. That was so much fun! Yay me!
15. I love the smell of vinegar.
16. The first time I saw Star Wars I was 6. My folks took us girls to see it in the drive-in theater. I thought it was the greatest thing ever and I’ve been a fan ever since. I have just about every action figure released from the 90’s through the early 2000’s, though none of my vintage figures survived childhood.
17. I find abandoned buildings interesting. In particular urban spaces, like malls. There are some really good people who explore these “dead” malls and post them on YouTube: Retail Archeology and This is Dan Bell being my favorites. I kind of doubt that I would go exploring any of these abandoned malls myself but I could watch these guys for hours.
18. I once broke my hand in a mosh pit. Ok, so it was only a hairline fracture near the palm of my hand, but still!
19. I’ve only had two speeding tickets in my life, and one of them was a warning (so that doesn’t count, right?). I’ve only been in one accident. My Caravelle was totaled.
20. As a kid my Mom took us to meet Darth Vader at a local store (from my understanding it was David Prowse dressed up in costume). He was escorted into area by 4 stormtroopers and lots of security of the human sort. I remember being scared, thinking he was going to force choke me. I was 6.
21. I’ve lived in a lot of places. My folks moved us 4 times growing up. (It wasn’t any fun because being the new kid sucks). (Waukee, IA to Sioux City, Iowa to Worthington, MN to St. Joesph, MO to Austin, MN.) I’ve moved several times on my own as an adult for jobs (Henderson, MN, Caledonia, MN, and Mankato, MN). If we include the times I moved away for college we’d add two more towns for that. That makes 10 places I’ve lived. Sometimes I wonder if I’d not have been so insecure and shy if we hadn’t have moved so much growing up.
22. I’m superstitious, as in I believe in ghosts, spirits or whatever you want to call them. I’ve seen and experienced too many things in my grandparents house that really have no realistic explanation.
23. Can’t watch horror movies. Why? See #22.
24. I like video games, but I’m not very good at them. The exception being MMORPGs (Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games), such as Everquest and WOW. On Everquest I played a high level wood elf druid and a dark elf necromancer. I feel like the best days for these kind of games is over and its been many years since I played one, however I miss playing them.
25. My favorite painting is Large Blue Horses by Franz Marc. My favorite artist is probably Vincent Van Gogh. He achieved so much in so little time and while he received almost zero recognition when he was alive he kept pushing on.
So there are 25 possibly random things about me. Kudos for you to making it to the end of this silly list.
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