Well, shit. I just typed a long entry about two multi-national/cultural weddings, getting caught up in the Dallas freeway shooting rampage, and my sincere remorse about not being on the site more often, and it got lost. Damn internets. I'll try again later. Hopefully later will be within the next month, although the way things have been going, you never know. Dammitdammitdammit!!!

Lord have mercy, it's been a whirlwind. I don't have time for a proper update, but I'm itching to write one, so here's hoping I can make good on that desire. For now, though, some highlights:

* I'm now the Assistant Director of the Composition Program at my university. I get two quarters off from teaching so that I can oversee the other teachers and do administrative work. I vacillate between feeling psyched when I do something that helps other teachers, feeling confused as to why I was selected for this position (I've loudly and publicly criticized the program for years . . . guess they wanted me to put up or shut up?), feeling amused because, well, I don't exactly *look* like an administrator, and feeling horrified that I am now part of The System. Am I a sell-out, or am I a subversive force who just managed, somehow, to infiltrate Their ranks? Guess time will tell.

* Starting the third chapter of my dissertation tonight. If I can get it done this quarter, I'll be on track to graduate this summer.

* My mother is crazy as ever. She's currently dating two guys: an executive at Fannie Mae (I call him Satan) and Santa Claus. No, seriously, the guy has been the Santa Claus at the fanciest mall in Dallas for over a decade.

* One of my cousins just had yet another kid who is on his way to foster care. That makes three since she was 14. When will the women in my family stop doing this to themselves and to their unplanned progeny?!?!?! I tell you what, I may just have to stock up on Depo shots and fly back to Texas every few months. I swear, if the women on my mom's side of the family would just stop getting knocked up in high school (or junior high, for that matter), that alone would cause the nation's stats on unwed teenage mothers to decrease . . . we've been pumping out three or four kids by the age of twenty for, what, four generations now? And they wonder why I don't want any kids! Anyway, we're trying to figure out who in the family can take the baby, but everyone is kinda stocked up on babies at the moment. Fortunately, nobody suggested me as an option . . . I'm just not cut out for that shit. So . . . if anyone out there wants a baby, I know where you can get one. In the meantime, hopefully my people can work something out amongst themselves.

* Knowing ancient Greek paid off this year . . . literally. I got a creative writing scholarship for my Sappho translations. That was pretty cool. I'd almost written off creative work, but now I'm having to re-evaluate that. It's nice to have to re-evaluate a decision to give up on something one loves.

There's more, but I promised myself I'd get back to work at 12:15. It's 12:21 now. Hopefully I'll be back sooner than later.

I hope all of y'all are well.

I'm going to Scotland in December for my dad's wedding. Woo hoo! Anyone been? Recommendations for what to do and see? We'll be in Edinburgh.

I never think far enough ahead. My labret and my desire to start playing flute again aren't compatible.

Dammit.

It'll still work. I just have to get used to taking my jewelry out and putting it back in.

I promise I haven't been thinking morbidly lately:

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how I want to die:

I want to row out to sea.
I want to wade into the surf, climb into my shell, and hang my legs over the sides while I look squarely upon the land, up close, for the last time.

Then I want to pull the oars and enjoy the feeling as my back muscles tingle and warm up.

I'm sure I'll have "deep thoughts" as the land slips away and becomes smaller in my visual perspective.

As I row, I will appreciate the intricate physics and physiology involved, the mathematics that ensure that my oar glides scant millimeters above the water and the name of each muscle that burns.

When I am exhausted, I will lay back upon the keel and feel the burn of the sun or the cold light of the moon. I will repeat the process as necessary.

Somewhere, feet or miles from the shore of my departure, well, I guess I'll die.

Knowing me, though, I'll probably get run over by an ice cream truck.

The school year is finally over. Here are some of the highlights, which will hopefully give a sense of why I haven't been around as much as I'd like:

*Parents divorced
*Physical therapy 2x per week for knees
*Lots of dental work
*Partner got a new, better job (yay!)
*Several visits to orthopedic surgeon for evaluations and cortisone shots
*Knees still don't work
*In the midst of medical bills piling up, the school reversed my loans and slapped me with a $2400 bill
*Named Assistant Director of Composition Program for next year (yay!)
*Loooooooong petition process to prove that I need loans to pay medical bills . . . still owe $600
*Grandfather died
*Won a teaching award (yay!)
*Shut finger in car door, in a cast for a few weeks
*Repeatedly had to take cat to the vet
*Wrote two dissertation chapters
*Crazy students

Whew!

Three more weeks until summer. I won't be teaching, so I won't have any income, but that seems like a fair trade off at this point. I need a break!

Well . . . I'm 29. Yawn.

My parents sent me some money for my b-day, which I used to buy a new hard-drive, which got my computer up and running. Now I can look at nekkid girls again! I'm sure that's just what the 'rents had in mind.

Thanks for the happy birthday wishes, y'all. It was quite a nice surprise.

The United States government has finally formally apologized to Native Americans. You know, for all that "historic mistreatment." I would have preferred they read out a whole list of specific things they were apologizing for ("Sorry about the genocide, the smallpox, the boarding schools, broken treaty A, broken treaty B, broken treaty C . . . broken treaty ZZZ, and not recognizing tribal autonomy. Oh, and sorry that we still seem to have problems with some of these issues.") I'd also have liked to see some restitutions--give some land back, take steps to improve the BIA, etc. (could make a long list).

But hey, it's a step. Words on paper. While I applaud the government for taking this long overdue step, I hope people will pardon me if I'm not excited about more words on paper from the U.S. powers that be. For some reason, (*coughtreatiescough*), I'm not inclined to believe that words on paper from the gov't are all that sincere. And sincerity is an issue for me, as I hope it is for others. Want us to believe that this is more than a P.C. sop? Prove it. Show us.

Knee update (because I know you're all riveted):

Well, I got bad news from the orthopedic surgeon, then some not-as-bad-but-still-not-good news from the physical therapist. The ortho found a structural problem with the way my leg is built that is helping pull my kneecap out of alignment. There's a surgery to correct it called lateral release . . . they go in and chop a tendon, and between the healing and the scar tissue, the tendon comes out longer so that it doesn't pull on the kneecap. Considering that previous therapy has failed, the surgeon thought that might be the problem. Unfortunately, the surgery is kind of a crapshoot--it helps 50%-70% of patients and makes about 10% worse. Eeek! The PT, on the other hand, told me that there have been amazing advances since the last time I was doing therapy . . . and she uncovered some issues in her evaluation. She did all kinds of tests that my previous PTs didn't do, so this new stuff might help enough that I can get by without surgery. Or, it could help but not enough. Or, it could help and then the physical problem would undo that work. OR, it could work and I could need surgery anyway to remove scar tissue. That surgery, though, would have a pretty good chance of being effective. So, I'm playing it by ear . . . if the PT doesn't help, I'm going to have the surgery. The odds of it helping aren't good, but at least there's a chance of improvement . . . just "dealing" would offer no chance. I just can't take this anymore. A couple of years ago, I climbed South Sister with a hangover and nasty altitude sickness . . . now I can barely make it up the stairs.

But enough about me. Do y'all recognize this commercial holiday? Do you "celebrate" with mockery and irony? Do you ignore it? Personally, I think it's B.S., but I usually cave and do something anyway . . . but I love excuses to buy pretty underwear and fun sex toys.