So what's with granola?

I really do intend on blogging more. I try. I really try. Writing regularly is hard. Maybe that's why most writers are poor and melancholy--too much thought, not enough action. I like thought and action together, which is one of the reasons I chose to become a teacher. I can only think of a few vocations that involve more thought and action than teaching, and they all involve mortal peril.

So because nothing has really inspired me today, I am writing a regular entry. You know the type: "Today I had granola for breakfast. What's with granola anyway?"

In truth, I did not eat breakfast. I threw a pop-tart in my bag and ate it while driving home to eat lunch. I hate having extra time on weekday mornings; it throws off my groove. I have to be up and moving quickly or I lose momentum and feel sluggish all morning. So I set my alarm clock a mere twenty minutes before I need to be driving down the block, and I make a mad rush to get out the door. Breakfast is a casualty of collegiate life.

I eat breakfast after school (at 9:00) on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and that's been really nice. I love having that half hour to drink a cup of tea and have real cereal with milk in it. I read the paper then, too. That breakfast time is some of my favorite time in the week. I need time to stop and breathe. Sometimes I feel like breathing is a casualty of collegiate life, too.

lady weather

Today I intended on taking my books to the park and studying under a tree. The forecast was beautiful--sunny with a high of 83. I am an ardent fan of indian summer, and I figured I would enjoy today. The crispy smell of dry leaves baking in the sun and the sharp end-of-summer grass are things to be delighted in.

Unfortunately, I live in a city where the saying, "If you don't like the weather, just wait a few hours," is often unbelievably true. The sunny sky that promised good times this morning became more moody than a 15 year old girl and by noon, she had a temper tantrum. Lighting flashed, thunder crashed, and the air was white with rain. All in about the span of 20 minutes. I came home from work to a puddly world, complete with soggy leaves and dripping branches. No park today.

Still, I'm not complaining. I love the weather here. Maybe its because I was raised in this climate so, like a child brought up on too much television gets ADD, I need meterological stimulation. When the weather is the same day in and day out I get stir crazy and start shaking my fists skyward. I adore not knowing whether to pull out a t-shirt or a sweater, and putting on both "just in case." I love the freakish nature and the total rebellion of the forecast, as though she yells to us, "You think you've got me all figured out! Think again, suckers!" And then she'll get all calm, cool, and collected. For a few minutes, anyway.

that's...life.

I get eight hours of sleep almost every night.

That's good.

No, that's bad because I'm still tired every morning.

That's bed.

No, that's good because I get ready in the morning faster when I'm tired.

That's good.

No, that's bad because I get stressed out when I move faster.

That's bad.

No, that's good because the stress helps me wake up so I can do the stuff I would have done if I had gone to bed later.

That's good.

No, that's bad because when the stress runs out, I'm really tired. I'm so tired that I talk to myself and try and reason whether or not I have a reasonable schedule or whether or not my life is good or bad.

The Glory that is 50

Over a year later, I have attained a glorious victory in blogdom.

I, esteemed visitor, have reached the 50th post.

I have carefully considered this moment of jubilee. How best to acknowledge the passage of all these words and thoughts? How best to commemorate the insight, the wit, the irregularity, and the general randomness of all that is Tiny Specks?

I thought about doing a flashback montage of the best moments of the blog, but bad 90s sit-coms kept interferring with my thoughts. I then decided to create some sort of ode hailing the epic side of the blog, but as you know, I'm not the over the top type. Finally, I debated taking a picture of myself sitting at my computer with the blog on the screen, smiling happily, but that screamed myspace, and I'm not in middle school.

So then I decided that, given the blog's history, I should simply follow tradtion and continue in the pattern which has underscored my entire blogging experience. I simply won't post at all.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. There is no 50th post. It is the gap between post 49 and this one, which is officially the 51st. All hail the little black space.

young adultness

I lost three things yesterday--my pen, my notebook, and my brain.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. For the past few weeks, my mind has been a puddle of mushy, foggy information. I have a rehearse my day in my mind while I brush my teeth or I swear I'd forget to go to school. I might even forget to stop brushing my teeth. It's that bad.

I thought I was going mental. Seriously, who can't manage their life? My mother forgets things sometimes, but she has six other people to keep track of. I'm only a college student.

That was the epiphany. I'm only a college student. They call us "young adults" because--get this--we aren't adults yet. We're still figuring that out. I'm in the process of learning how to manage my time, prioritize my schedule, and call people back within a reasonable amount of time. (Sorry, Marc.) And for a college student, I'm doing pretty well. In fact, I think I'm even getting better at it. Pretty sweet and awesome.

I even do my laundry every other week.

Defying Gravity

I recently signed up for Yahoo's Music Unlimited, and one of the treasures I've found is the soudtrack to Wicked, the greatest musical I have ever seen.

I've always wanted to fly, and this song, well, I'd like to be able to have you hear it, because it totally strikes a chord in my heart.

Elphaba:
Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down...

Glinda:
Can't I make you understand, you're having delusions of grandeur...?

Elphaba:
I'm through accepting limits
'Cuz someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But 'till I try, I'll never know
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love - I guess I have lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost

I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down...

Glinda, come with me. Think of what we could do - together.

Unlimited
Together we're unlimited
Together we'll be the greatest team
There's ever been, Glinda,
Dreams the way we planned 'em

Glinda:
If we work in tandem

Both:
There's no fight we cannot win
Just you and I
Defying gravity
With you and I
Defying gravity

...

Elphaba:
So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky
As someone told me lately -
Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me -

Tell them how I
Am defying gravity!
I'm flying high
Defying gravity!
And soon I'll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!

I know I'm copping out of a real post, but what the heck. It is my favorite song right now. So sue me. Isn't it a lovely song?

what drives YOU?

In case you were wondering about those resolutions, I did two loads of laundry today. And, uh, a paper that is kind of due in about ten hours...

I learned today that Newton was an idiot. Yes, that Newton. Apple on the head "whoops, gravity" Newton. As a small child, I always wondered what people thought when apples fell before. I mean, it took until the reinassance for people to notice that things fall when dropped? Seriously, I'd give more credit to humankind that that.

Anyway, today I discovered that this brilliant physicist, inventor of gravity, finder of the laws of motion and lauded as the father of classical mechanics, died of mercury poison. Why?

He spent most of his life trying to turn iron into gold.

Oh well. At least his cookies are good.

Ballet Slippers

Today I danced again. I love dancing. I love the satisfying ache of hard work that goes with accomplishment. I love the way ballet combines graceful beauty and iron strength.

I also love modern plumbing's amazing gift: the hot bath.