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Six Pounds & Greek Battles

Six Pounds and Greek Battles

Last night I fell asleep reading Homer’s The Iliad, and so I dreamed about an epic battle betwixt the Greeks and the Trojans.  It was an extremely bloody battle, and I was glad to wake up. I wish I could say that’s the weirdest of my dreams.

My dreams get exponentially weirder, depending on my level of stress. I’m thinking of experimenting with melatonin and niacin to see if I can eventually stop sleep-harassing others and opening my eyes during the REM cycle and freaking myself out.

In the meantime, I don’t think there’s a way I can resolve my stress level. I have an online class that is absolute murder, and I’m thinking I might develop a serious phobia of the Internet because of it, come the semester’s end.

My other classes are pretty awesome. Plate Tectonics, where I get to play with rocks and acid and my lab partner is Israel Miller, speaks for itself. My African American Studies class has fascinating lecture, but I have to fight the urge to cry for nearly three hours. My English class is English, so of course I love it.

Plus forty hours of work that has me burning up the phone, the mileage on my car, living with a Canon around my neck, and writing my guts out. Plus meetings and social events and all that other fun stuff.  It’s week four, and I’ve lost six pounds, which puts me below triple digits.

Having written this all down, there’s really no wonder I harass people in my sleep and dream about Greek battles.

I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m complaining, because I’m really not. If I weren’t in a constant state of manic craziness, I’d probably be clawing at the walls. But if you have a friend or know a kid in college, who works, or just has a heavy study load, give them a pat on the back and tell them it’s going to be okay, that days of less intensity are ahead (I hope?).

A shout out goes to Jimmy Smith this week, because like me, he’s a multi-tasker, and not only dispatches, but is a deputy too.

Letha Byrd gets a shout out because she’s awesome, and invites me to the Walmart going-on’s.

A shout out also goes to William Sexton, who is the Principal at Goose Rock Elementary. He’s probably one of the most awesome people I know, because he cares a lot about his school, students, teachers, and staff.

Shout outs/congrats goes to the winners of the Homemaker Photography Show! Please keep taking pictures.

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Last Updated on Wednesday, 14 September 2011 14:01

 

22 Years Worth of Leaves

With the Labor Day rain comes the fall. Or, that’s my prediction for the week. Leaves are turning and falling, and I look for my favorite stores to start to get in a plethora of scares and pea coats and my incredibly talented friend Kim Rogers works to knit me lovely hats. I’m thinking of my favorite music which resonates the feeling of this time every 365 days: Felice Brothers, Belle & Sebastian, Wolf Parade.
While sometimes I wish I lived in a tropical climate (especially from the months of January to March) I am thankful to live in an area where the seasons are apparent. There’s something sincerely incredible about the new smell of old that infiltrates the air about this time, and makes you want for other smells, like pumpkin spice and fresh baked confections.
Nothing really beats a brisk autumn chill at the end of a heavy, Appalachian summer. It’s like a cup of coffee at the end of an extremely home cooked meal. Fall means more to me now that I’m in school as well. Books and studying and the change of seasons just go together.
Bearing this in mind, I say bye for now to my summer, which I happily report as being the best I’ve had in 22 years. And the way I look forward to next summer cannot be described in any words I can articulate at this moment.
It’s taken 22 years worth of steamy summers and fallen leaves to get to this realm of strange excitement. I am on the cusp of charting uncharted territory.
Put simply - I can’t wait.
In other random report, I have about a million potatoes in need of cooking, thanks to Irene Lewis. Both the Idaho kind, and the sweet kind. If I accomplish nothing else this week, I hope I can successfully use them all before they rot. Wish me luck on this endeavor.
Kelly Sandlin gets a shout out, for shooting me at Clay County Days.
A shout out goes to James Phillips, for being on top of all those little, sentimental moments that a lot of people miss.
Mrs. Melissa Doll-Fields gets a shout out, along with her varsity choir, and all the great work they’ve done this week (and worked, they have, as they’ve been all over the place!).
Ken Bolin gets a shout out, for knowing how to put on a good symposium, in honor of one of the greatest Governor’s Kentucky has ever seen, as well as one of the greatest Clay Countians anyone has ever seen.
Phil Jones gets a shout out, for his diligent icee making abilities.
All the cool ladies at Rockin’ Cakes get shout outs this week, because their sweets are awesome, and I could bathe in the smell of their cupcakery.

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Last Updated on Wednesday, 07 September 2011 12:21

 

Burnt Coffee And Paint

In retrospect, I don’t know if it was forever ago, or if it feels just like yesterday. It’s true what people say about historical moments in history: that you always remember what you were doing.
On September 11, 2001, I was in the seventh grade. I was in my second period class at the Middle School. It was Mr. Allen’s science class, which was in the lab room. He always made coffee, and that morning it smelled like burnt Folgers. Sitting in that class was torture, because I was a coffee drinker even in the seventh grade, and if I knew as much about coffee drinkers then as I do now, I would’ve just asked him for a cup.
I was going through a sincere pop-punk-ska phase, so I would’ve been listening to Blink 182, the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Alkaline Trio, and the Get Up Kids. I typically wore a tee shirt from one of these bands to school that very day, plus blue jeans, about a million of those jelly bracelets that were cool then, and Chuck Taylors (which at the time had to be purchased at Cliff’s, because they were the only place in town that had them. Nostalgia).
I remember going into Mr. Allen’s class and the news was on, which was an odd thing. As the news unfolded throughout the day, being about 13, I really had no idea about the function of the World Trade Center. I just knew it was part of the New York City skyline I had always admired, and it would always be scarred. There was an odd feeling in the air for several weeks thereafter. I remember having some reassurance from our teachers that we would be safe, along with predictions of a war, which materialized very soon materialized.
So much has happened since.
Apologies to everyone if it seems like I’ve been kindle of befuddled this week. It’s because I am. Which is what happens when you choose to repaint the interior of your house on the same week you start a full-time school schedule. Which is going swimmingly, one week in.
Louisville-Lexington adventures this weekend, which involved sitting by a pool and drinking lemonade, talking football and politics. It was great weather, even better company, and grape salad out the eyes.
Aside from having wads of paint in my hair, all is well.
A shout out goes to Steve Dickerson, for delivering me vegetarian magazines and resources in a town where I thought there were none!
Linda Hooker gets a shout out, because she makes the best lemonade I’ve ever tasted.
Shout outs go to Mark Allen and Brian Jackson, because they’re both incredibly awesome people and they’re always on top of the news.
I final shout out goes to my friend Kim Rogers, for making me a slouchy beanie. Hand-made is better, but made-by-friend-hands is better X2!

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Last Updated on Wednesday, 31 August 2011 12:13

 

Borderline Obsession

Borderline Obsession

This weekend made history. Friday was historical, and I don’t have words for it. So here are a few: Breakfast at Tiffany’s and stomach cramps in parking lots. And I’m officially the happiest person alive.

There’s something really magical about watching your favorite band live, especially when they’re Kentucky-bred, ethereal, and words fail to describe what their music really does to you.

We hit Cincinnati about 5:30 Wednesday evening, or rather; we were at the PNC Pavilion about that time. I’m reminded why I don’t care much for cities when I get stuck in stand-still traffic and what should be a 20 minute drive turns into about an hour.

Thanks to the diligent timeliness of my boyfriend, we were there with plenty of time to spare, but we stood at the very front of the pit for two and a half hours before My Morning Jacket took the stage.

Prior to them blowing my mind with their sounds, my boyfriend asks me, “Do you want me to lift you up so you can reach out and touch Jim James?” to which I scoffed, and said, “I don’t idolize him that much!”

I then turned around and ate my words a couple of minutes into “Victory Dance” when Jim walked to the edge of the stage, directly in front of me, only a few feet away, and we locked eyes.

Everyone around me, naturally, threw up their arms and commenced singing along like a bunch of super fans, but I kind of froze and just stared back at him and felt like for a moment like I might pass out, before he turned and went to the other side of the stage to give some attention to that crowd.

“I wish one of his beard hairs would have flown off into my eye,” I said.

I’m not really sure where that came from, either. Strangely enough, I always try to see bands that I really like whenever they come close by, but I’m never one of these types to go all goofy for them. Until recently, I haven’t even been able to name a favorite band. The question (which typically gets asked in music stores while browsing, and I feel really awkward when they do and I have no real answer for them) “What’s your favorite band?” and I babble around about genres for a minute before I come back with, “I don’t really have one”. And then launch into whatever albums I’ve been listening to lately, and what I like about each of them, before the stranger I’m talking to gets bored and in an attempt to be polite gets a sudden case of diarrhea and runs away.

The show went on for close to three hours, and superseded any expectations I had prior to getting there. Now, if I never see My Morning Jacket again, I will be okay, because my love for their music is now borderline obsession.

Brandon Hensley gets a shout out this week, for this work at Project Smokescreen.

A shout out goes to Nathaniel Teague, because he’s a hard worker and if this were an episode of Lost, and I was being sucked through time sporadically, he would be the constant.

Kim Rogers gets a shout out for her hat making abilities!

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Last Updated on Wednesday, 24 August 2011 12:29

 

Tilt and Time

Even though it’s over a month away, it feels as if we’re on the cusp of fall.  Fall fashion, crisp weather, vibrant colors, orchards and apple by-products, school, football, and the growing necessity to wear socks makes it fall. My only complaint is that summer is never long enough. So until we dive in, I will still squeeze what warmth and fun there is left out of this 23°26’ tilt.
Meanwhile, I feel the need to do more reading about time, space-time, dimensions, and physics (for dummies).
Some of my favorite works of fiction are about time and the like (Tralfamadorians, the fourth-dimension in which they see time!). And I feel like knowing more about it could help me tie up lose ends in my mind.
I can’t help but consider the idea that nothing is finite and everything is infinite, but I have no real scientific explanation as to why. I wish I had even a smidgeon of math comprehension, because I would be a dangerous physicist.
Not one of the über scientific kind that suffers from grandiose delusions, but the more open-minded, hippie-before-the-hippies sort, like Albert Einstein, who believed all religions, arts, and sciences are branches from the same tree.
There’s something incredibly awesome in being so passionately curious about everything. I think one of the biggest mistakes ever made by adults is thinking we know enough to get by, and we draw the line there.
The older I get, the more I observe how much we could all stand to evolve just a little.
To be more mature, to be kinder, to be more educated; to transcend everything that makes us so human.
It could be nice.
After attending the city cook out, I have to give Buck Stivers a shout out, even though he dared me to put his name in the paper. So there it is.
A shout out goes to Kelly Sandlin, because she’s my cookout buddy.
Robert Stivers gets a shout out because he makes fun of my “professional” clothes.
A shout out goes to Jennifer Holland, because she’s pretty and nice, and has her hands full with work and kids!

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Last Updated on Wednesday, 17 August 2011 12:15

 

Page 4 of 9

e-Edition A-Section 7-24-14

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e-Edition B-Section 7-24-14

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