Good News: Grad School

Because we could all use a little good news from time to time, right?

I have another week to work on my paper.

Ok.  That that probably wasn't good news for you, but it was awesome for me.  I'm still going to work on a schedule to try to get everything written without going into a panic.  Currently, I'm one section down and four pages in.  By the end of Thursday, I'd like to be two sections down and 8 or 9 pages in.  My friend, Morgan, says I just need to sit down and write.  She's probably right, because the four pages I wrote yesterday came in about an hour.  I just analyze and analyze and then freak out that what I'm saying isn't good enough.  That requires an extra three hours or so in the writing process ;)

If you want to contribute, my paper is focusing on a narratological approach to Elie Wiesel's Night in secondary classrooms.  I'd really like to discuss narratology as this is my first experience with that particular aspect of theory.

(And hopefully my last.  I'll be glad to have the theory requirement out of the way.)

The Rut

Normally, I post Two on Tuesday, but I'm currently knee deep in the paper I keep referencing.  I'm knee deep because I've only written four pages so far.  (I'd determined to write five this evening, but I hit a wall.)  On a happy note, I've read almost all of my literature and have outlined the other things I'd like to address in this paper.  If I can make bullet points from my research tomorrow, I may be well on my way to finished by the end of the week.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Please, Jesus.

The requirement for this paper is 25 pages, but I'm going to count myself blessed if I can pound out 20 of those pages.  I've set realistic goals for the rest of the days this week, so hopefully I won't get too overwhelmed.  I really just wish I would've known what I was doing earlier in the semester so I had a better start on this paper.

But while I'm swimming in narratology and critical analysis for high school students, I cannot possibly think about Christmas traditions.  Shoot.  I can't even think about Christmas presents.  All I can think about is writing this paper and finishing this class.  I don't even care about getting an "A"--which is unusual for my perfectionist self.  (Case and point:  I never received anything under an A in my English undergrad.  Yes, I am a nerd.)

Keep the prayers coming.  I need a little more inspiration.

Good Intentions: Prayer

About five or six years ago, I really felt like God was impressing the necessity of prayer in my heart.  More than Praise & Worship (which was I involved in at the time).  More than Women's Bible Study (which was quickly becoming a staple in my devotional life).  In response to that pressing necessity, I began reading books on prayer.  I questioned the way prayer worked or was meant to work.  I talked about prayer with other people.  I encouraged others to seek Christ during worship services.  I did everything.

Except actually pray.

Well, that's not entirely accurate.  I prayed, but I didn't seek God the way He was encouraging me to seek Him.

And I feel like this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, because I've established that while everyone else was paying attention in Sunday school, I was learning how to best flick a booger.  (Alright, that's not entirely true, either.  But gracious jeebus, you'd think that in one area of my life I'd get it together and learn something.  But nnnnoooooo.  I'm a train wreck--one of the it's-so-crazy-you-can't-look-away numbers.)

When I look back on that time period, I mostly want to kick dirt and look at the ground.  You don't make eye contact when you're ashamed of your actions.  See, I think that was a preparation time for me.  I think God was drawing me to Him so I would develop a habit--that in every situation, my natural inclination would lean toward prayer.

Currently, my natural inclination leans toward bread.  But that's another story.

Beyond the love of white flour was the fact that I, like many other people, like for people to like me.  It's been a weird season in a lot of ways, but it's definitely tied together with this theme:  "To inoculate me from the praise of man, He baptised me in the criticism of man, until I died to control of man" (Francis Frangipane).  That admission is simple and true.  I'm not the first.  I won't be the last.  Close the book.  End of discussion.

More than anything, this "baptismal" of sorts is a reminder for me of what the "Sovereign Lord" says:  "my house will be called/ a house of prayer for all nations" (Isaiah 56:7b). 

Truthfully, prayer is a unifying theme in much of the New Testament.  (That doesn't discount the Old Testament, but it's generally a "crying out" there.)  But that prayer is just as often meant to be for the others we encounter as for ourselves:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?  And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?  Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. "
                                                                             --Matthew 5:43-48 (NIV)

Clearly, this passage doesn't speak to our human sensibilities of murder and pillage.  But it does speak to a God consciousness that's meant to be a part of our lives:  a consciousness that pushes us to be more like Him and desire that for others, too. 

That consciousness comes through prayer.  Must be the reason Paul admonishes us to "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer" (Romans 12:12).  And like Paul says to the church at Corinth, it's true that the church's constant prayer should be "that you may be fully restored" (2 Corinthians 13:9b).

Right now, I'm praying I get this lesson so five years from now my natural inclination leans toward prayer.  Rest assured, I would be a different person if I had dedicated myself to God's drawing the same number of years in the past.  I'm praying for a God consciousness--for myself and others. 

"Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”                                                --Isaiah 30:20-21 (NIV)

Woo

You all.

My mom hates to shop. HATES. IT. But about a week before black Friday, every conversation with her is the same: "We're going shopping on Friday, right? Right?! RIGHT?"

It's like declaring you hate running, and then a week before screaming "IT'S THE NEW YORK MARATHON. WOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Yep. Woo.

Forest Fires

I've really been trying to focus on what is pure, what is holy, what is just, what is right, etc.  But it seems like I can't stay out of the way of people who insist on sharing tidbits of information that aren't just inaccurate, they are no where close to the truth.

And then, all I can think of are blazing forest fires.

Anyone else have this issue?

Two on Tuesday: Blog Grateful

Join us for Two on Tuesday by clicking the button.  You really want to.

Why are you thankful for blogging?

I am a stuffer.  It's true, and I hate that it's true, but there's no use in denying stuff here.  When things get difficult, or when I don't understand something, I stuff it down.  Then, when I encounter something else, I stuff it on top of what I've already stuffed down.  I do this until there is absolutely no room left, and then I try to sit on the suitcase and zip it up anyway.

It's super healthy.

On top of being a stuffer, I don't really talk about personal things in person.  I know that's bizarre, and probably stupid to a good number of you.  But it's easier to find my voice at a keyboard and really process what's bugging me, or what I think.  

In the last few years, I've shared a good number of things with you.  I've talked about my former church, the epic fail that is my grad school experience, my son, and the things that run through my mind when I teach.  For the most part, blogging has given me room to have a conversation or close the conversation when I just can't talk.  It's given me the experience of support without the awkwardness of personal conversation.

Mostly, it's helped me find my voice.

A while back, I wrote that I don't write because I'm going to make millions of dollars for putting my words on paper.  If you want to read someone like that, go to Barnes and Noble (or look on my sidebar for people more impressive than I am).  I write because I don't know who I am if I don't.

And I'm pretty sure that's something for which to be grateful.

A Brief Update, Because I've Got Work To Do

Since so many teachers approach holocaust literature in the classroom, there has to be a way to address those memoirs with a certain amount of respect while still allowing the students to have the opportunity to see what is functioning behind them.

This is the working concept for my paper.  I'm really no further than I was yesterday, but I learned that at least one of the articles I found is going to be useful (YAY!) and one of the books I have (Writing and Rewriting the Holocaust) is proving to be invaluable.

So the rest of my night, now that I'm finished picking up and putting things away, will revolve around grading and reading those articles so I can hopefully start writing some time this week.

I'm excited about grading these papers, because it's a project I love giving the freshmen.  Since we read The Miracle Worker, a play about Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller, I think it's necessary for the students to experience what teachers experience.  Their job?  To teach someone something.  The papers are as diverse as the students in my classes, but I was more impressed that several of them indicated that this was not the best experience of their lives.  People don't listen.  They are hard to teach.

And sometimes, it's easier to do things yourself.

Anyone relate?

A Desperate Plea

In two weeks, I will no longer have to attend my class.  In two weeks, I will be required to hand in a twenty-five page research paper supported with ten to fifteen resources.  In two weeks, I will hopefully stop hyperventilating and relax to enjoy the holidays.

But there are still two weeks.

They are going to be the longest and the shortest two weeks of my life.  Long because I have to write this paper, and short because I have to write this paper.  Anyone trackin'?

I know some of you may think this is silly, but I could use a few prayers over the next two weeks.  I have no idea how I'm going to write a worthwhile paper.  I have a topic, but the last five resources I've read have proven to be worthless to my topic.  So now, I'm scouring JSTOR for anything that will explain the concept of Narratology and attempting to determine how to teach high school students holocaust literature while making them aware of the fact that the very literature they read actually remembers and eliminates the event.  While I'm at it, I probably need to address the latent nature of trauma.

And while all of that sounds really high-minded, let me assure you:  I have no idea what I'm doing.  If this paper gets written, it will be by the grace of God alone.  So if you get some time, would you pray for me?  Or pray that God would send some resources and some good paper ideas my way?  I could certainly use some divine intervention.

Things I'm Loving: November 2011

My cousin, Jake, is in massage therapy school so I had him work on my shoulders this morning.  Verdict?  Even if I never work out again, I've got to get back to stretching.  That's the one thing I really appreciated about gymnastics and swimming--it was a way to stay limber.  Jake was impressive, though.  He stretched me and massaged until my head at least stopped hurting.  I'm grateful.

And if you were wondering, he's single and a catch.  Jake will be using massage therapy to pay his way through grad school.  AND, he plays the guitar and sings.  Oh, and he's good at all those things.  Plus, he's one of my favorite people--he's funny and loyal and, above all things, cute.  Sometime in the next month, I'll be promoting Jake's buddy, Blake, who is also a catch, but I thought it necessary to say something nice about Jake here.

But I'm mostly writing this post to tell you about a few things I'm currently loving.  I think it might be a nice turn from the serious nature of the last few posts (though, I have all of a sudden gained a fairly large following from my hometown area over those last few blogs), and I don't think it hurts to smile over things from time to time, either.

Source

This is Fossil's Vintage Re-Issue Large Satchel.  I love it for a couple of reasons.  First of all, I'm a big fan of any bag that holds its structure without the owner filling it to the brim.  Secondly, this is a classy looking bag.  It would go well with jeans or dress pants, and would travel to a wedding or McDonald's.  Plus, I actually really like the color.  Reminds me of a comfy pair of jeans.

Source

Not long ago, I told you guys that I was looking at a new winter coat.  This is what I bought, and I'm really pleased with it.  First of all, it's lined with thinsulate, so it's definitely going to be warm.  I also really love the color.  Maybe Stacey and Clinton are right--red is a neutral.

Now for something revolutionary.

Source

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Nook Tablet.  I never thought I would join the ranks of those who no longer hold actual books, but I'm starting to see a benefit. 

One major benefit is the fact that books for ereaders are cheaper than buying a regular book.  Since I'm in grad school, that's a HUGE benefit.  Plus, if I finish a book, and there's another in the series, I can buy it and start reading right away instead of waiting until I can find the next book in the series.  Also, since I read a lot (like, a lot.  I haven't updated that book tracker thingy in quite some time), I think this may be a more economical way of getting books.  Will it keep from from ever buying a book again?  I don't know.  I don't totally see that happening, but we'll see, I guess.  (Oh, and you should also know that this version of the Nook allows readers to borrow ebooks from their local libraries.  Pretty cool, right?)

And, last, but not least, these people:

That's me on the end.  The other two guys are my brothers.  In the last few weeks, I've just been reminded how much I appreciate my family.  Not just these two, but their significant others (SILSheena and Nutmeg), my parents, Gloria & Jason, Jake and Blake (because I'm pretty sure Blake may be part of the family now?).  I realize not everyone has been blessed with a supportive family, but I have and I don't take enough time to tell you how great they are.

This Thanksgiving, enjoy the people who surround you.  Love them.  Appreciate them.  And thank God He's given you others.

A Resource: Devotionals

Since Sheena mentioned it earlier this week, I signed up to receive the devotionals from Girlfriends in God.  If you are interested, you can sign up by clicking here.  There are other types of devotionals available, too.

But those devotionals have been speaking to me.  About peace.  About letting go. 

God is impressing things on my life.  One of those things is that it's my responsibility to obey and do what I can.  More importantly, God is reminding me that we all have obligations to one another--even if we feel we've done nothing wrong.  There is responsibility in relationship.  Responding to an action through the same type of action doesn't breed peace, kindness or unity.

My time in grad school has been nothing if not useful.  It's reminded me that I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but that I know what's right.  I know what's helpful.  But, more importantly, I know a Jesus who hasn't given up on me (or anyone else for that matter).  So my prayer to Him is for usefulness...in all circumstances.  And my hope is that my prayer is still possible.

Two on Tuesday: Pet Peeves

Click on the picture above to join in.

What are your pet peeves?

Lots of things irk me, because, according to Favorite, I let them.  But if we're going to get down to my two biggest pet peeves, I'm really going to have to think.

Number one is this:  When are you going to have kids?

I've fielded this question at least a million times since I've gotten married.  C'mon people.  You aren't being original.  I've been married almost nine years--so you can only imagine the number of times I've gotten to smile and say, "Oh, I don't know."  *Add in harmless chuckle and a subject change here*

For the most part, I realize people aren't meaning to be rude and intrusive when they ask, but no one seems to take notice of the fact that the question actually is rude and intrusive.  Reword it this way:  "When are you going to have sex and see results from that sex?" 

Also, our situation has attuned me to the fact that there are many couples who are trying to remain positive and kind when they approach that question; however, they can't field it six times in a row.  It's too much--particularly when they've faced a loss.  So if you feel the need to put this question to a newly married couple, think better of it and bite your tongue.  You may be saving that couple a few tears later in the day.

(If I could tell you all the crazy questions I've had to address because of well-meaning people, you would probably call me a liar.  Or take up drinking professionally.  I've been accosted and questioned like I belonged in Guantanamo.  Maybe the lesson we should learn here is that if people want to talk, they will.)

My other pet peeve is when people assume too much.  Makes me want to buy a shirt that says, "You don't know me"--and not in a referencing Aida way.  We can't always decipher intentions so sometimes it's best to ask a specific question or take a step back.  Either way, more communication is often the best outcome.  Though, I'll admit that isn't always the case.

(I also get annoyed when Favorite doesn't close cabinets or get his clothes in the laundry basket.  People who put gum anywhere other than their mouths or the garbage gross me out.  I hate the assumption that all fat people aren't trying.  It bothers me when teachers don't consider themselves part of the same team.  I need to stop.  There's a whole other list of things that annoy me and make me laugh at the same time.  Maybe we should address that list later?)

There are Options: Bend a Knee or Break Your Leg

In the movie Mean Girls (nothing like a Lindsey Lohan reference on a Monday, eh?), Lindsey Lohan's character, Caty, says she needs to suck all the poison out of her life.  Of course, this is toward the end of the movie and serves to wrap up the previous hour and a half with a feel good conclusion, but work with me here.

I'm aiming to suck the poison out.  It will probably sound contrived, but I mean this in all sincerity:  few people in any frustrating situation intend to create poison.  Most of them are good people who truly want reconciliation and react out of strong emotion.  If there are sides, then both of them have certainly reacted in that way.  Why?  Because they care.  Because this matters.  Because there are a handful of people who want to see reconciliation and resolution.  But those things come at a cost.

That cost?  That we bend a knee.  It's something God has impressed on me over and over, and there have been more than a few instances in which I have refused openly.  He's been kind to me in those refusals--ever the gentleman.  But the reminder was that there would come a time when I could bend my knee or He could break my leg.  Either way, I was going down.

That particular lesson was also apparent in the godly example of Warry and Tindy (names changed to protect people from notoriety on my blog, because my 5 readers may see it).  Their example was a reminder to me that everyone bears a certain amount of fault and this would be a different situation if every person would own their part, bend a knee and offer an apology for the sake of reconciliation.  We all have something to own.  We all need support and encouragement.  And often, support is there amid the disagreements and struggles--and it's present when we aren't.  Few people bring those things to light simply to wield the "I'm-better-than-you" hammer.  They struggle to understand, share and move to a place where those fears, problems and issues can be addressed.

I have not made, nor do I intend to make, inflammatory remarks about anyone or anything.  My concerns have not been an open forum for others to read and then offer remarks.  I will say something I read on another blog, though:  "Your cancer doesn't fix my broken back."  And that's true.  If you take issue with me, the fact that I maintain imperfection won't fix the issues I feel are present other places.  The only thing I can do is submit myself to the Lord (per James chapter 4), offer my apologies for any issue I may have created and move on--which is what I've tried to do.  Favorite and I made the best decision we could for our family.  I don't know what else could be expected.

Note:  Comments are off for this post.  You are welcome to email me if you wish to discuss something; however, I will not comment to inflammatory opinions or remarks.  If you take issue with me, I apologize sincerely.  It was not my intention to create issues.

To Run

If there's any suggestion I can give the current generation that I feel would be really beneficial later in life, it would be this:  learn to like running now.

Running makes a top ten list in my life.  In fact, it's number one on my "Things that Make Me Want to Vomit" list.  It shouldn't shock you that my former PE teacher (who is now a coworker of mine) still laughs over my aversion to pounding the pavement...er, track.

No one could argue with my reasoning that running would probably be a surefire weight loss technique.  I'm pretty sure it's impossible to shove a piece of toast in your mouth if you're busy trying to keep your thighs from setting fires because they're rubbing together so quickly.

There's another reason.  Look at this:

source

Look at her.  She looks so...focused?  Free?  I don't know what word would be more fitting because "not frustrated" and "not stressed" aren't great terms here.

I've been thinking about running a lot over the last few months.

First, there was the fact that Lil Bro moved.  Then, Big Bro got married and moved and took Sheena with him.  (I mean, I guess you have to live together when you're husband and wife...but whatever.)

Then there were realizations, actions and decisions.

And now, there's me wishing I liked to run, because I'm completely jealous of that girl in the picture.

I almost wrote, "Change blows."  But not all change does.  If I lost 40 lbs over night, I probably wouldn't believe that change was a slight of fate (if I believed in fate).  It only really blows when it isn't on the list of things I specifically requested.

When Robert Frost penned "The Road Not Taken," I wonder if he considered the possibility that one road was blocked.  Barred.  Impassable.  The road less traveled may never have been the first choice in walking paths.  It changes the tenor of the poem to learn that road may have been shoddy seconds when the walker had to turn back after learning that the first road ended.

These last four weeks have been proof to me that roads end.  So I've smiled, gritted my teeth, discussed it with the people I'm closest to, pretended it didn't exist with everyone else and believed that God has a plan.  It's not an invitation to pity me, but rather an admission that it's often easier to write covertly about difficult things than to talk.  I can type through gritted teeth, you know.  But the same act makes conversation a little difficult.

So through gritted teeth, I've prayed to be a runner.  I need the grace to pace my breathing, move my legs and forget about the places I can't run.

I need an open road.

The Tip of the Conversation

Favorite and I have friends who are raising four children--three little girls and a little boy.  They are great parents.  They expect their children to behave, hand out consequences when instructions aren't followed, but they don't shy away from life's realities.  This was abundantly obvious the day I witnessed the two older girls get into a calculated tripping match.

After my friend stopped the altercation, both girls, with no sense of remorse, said together, "Sorry."  My friend looked at both of them and said, "What do I say about sorry?"  Two little girls wouldn't even make eye contact as they answered in matching, sing-song voices, "Sometimes sorry isn't good enough."

Surely there's something worthwhile in the sense of mea culpa that comes with "I'm sorry," but, unfortunately, those words don't produce an eraser that "undoes" everything that has been done.  Frankly, I'm not even sure how we got to a place that allowed "I'm sorry" to be a catch-all that fixes everything.

"I'm sorry" was never meant to be the entire conversation--especially when the real apology likely wasn't going to come through conversation anyway.  "I'm sorry" was meant to be a jumping off point...a place to begin...a recognition of the work that was going to have to take place to make "I'm sorry" worthwhile.

I'm learning that.  (Sure, I'm 31 and I should've gotten this lesson back when I was 5, but I've established I'm the slow kid in class.  Don't judge me.)  It's one of those necessary lessons--you know, the one everyone tries to skip but ultimately cycles through again and again until, finally, something clicks.

"I'm sorry" is the beginning of a new normal--one that doesn't continue to spout meaningless nonsense to people who really need a little bit of change.  And I can't imagine who wouldn't be willing to live that normal.

Two on Tuesday: Early Christmas Thoughts

 

Click on the link above to join us :)  This is my first time participating, and it could be yours, too.

 What’s your Christmas wish list? What do you hope to receive from Santa?

 

Christmas wish lists are hard.  I don't have a lot of wants, and when I really, really want something, I usually buy it.  My family loves to give gifts, but they prefer to get you something you actually want, so I make an effort to give them something...which usually ends up in a list of books.

Right now, I have a few books on my list:

My (not so) Storybook Life by Liz Owen (I don't want the kindle version as I don't have a kindle.  This was just the picture I found.)

Following Atticus by Tom Ryan (What is it with the kindle?  Gah.  I want real books, people.  REAL BOOKS.)

I've had my eye on a couple of Coach's finest.  (And, oh yes, I am picky.)  The Lion King just came out on DVD and Sheena made a good point with that Clarisonic facial brush.

But I'm also content with gift cards to my favorite haunts:  Sephora, Target, Macy's and Kohl's.

So what do you hope will be wrapped under your tree this year?

Ante Up

One of my students owes me $4.50.  He owes me this money because he is an incessant gambler and feels the need to bet on the length of his classmates' speeches.

Typically, he's wrong.  Way wrong.  I even give him a ten second leeway on either side of the time and allow him the opportunity to look at the outlines and the notecards to determine length, and he still hasn't managed to guess successfully.

Bless his heart.  Some of you are probably thinking I'm not going to take the money.

You would be wrong.  Because I'm vindictive.  And I like to win.  And I think some lessons are hard learned.  Like don't gamble with your teacher.  Or your future as a bookie is crumbling before your eyes. 

Either way, I think I'm cultivating a successful learning environment.

An Ode to Freud

In my classroom, when students ask a question that no one else can answer, and I can, I'll follow my answer with some statement like this:  "Man.  I am awesome.  You guys are so lucky to have me."  The students and I then chuckle and move on with our day.

This same incident happened yesterday, and I made the same comment:  "Man, I am so awesome.  You guys are lucky to have me." Then, in an effort to out-do myself, I added, "I'm so awesome I can barely keep clothes on."

I'm going to let that marinate for a second.

...
...
...


::headdesk::  

Gracious Jeebus.  How am I even allowed around adolescents?

I looked down at my desk and prayed that no student caught what I had just said...but some prayers go unanswered.

"That was a bit of a Freudian slip, wasn't it, Mrs. House?"

I bit my lip and muttered, "Uh huh."  (But honestly, two points to a sophomore who knows the concept of Freudian slip.  He's no slacker.)

So what had I meant to say?  That I was so awesome I could barely contain it.  I have no idea how clothes came out of my mouth.

But don't you feel blessed to know I'm an educator?

Sublime--with Blogger

If you plan to write a compelling blog, you should live a compelling life.  Though, I'd venture to say that people living compelling lives probably don't have time to sit down and blog about it.

Clearly, I don't have a compelling life, because I do have a blog.  A sad, little, floundering blog that rarely gets comments from people even though they look at a myriad of posts on a regular basis.  But, I'm counting it something that people even look. 

It's something because I don't have a better term to identify it when I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a strange thing.  (Or both?  Could it be both?) 

On one hand, it's pretty flattering to think that someone, somewhere reads what I have to say.  (Granted, that person may read the first line and then skip to a more interesting blog...like, say, Young House Love.)  But it's humbling, too.  And a little scary.  I'm not ashamed of the things I've said, but this--these words--they're me.  And since they're mine, I obsess constantly to hear some feedback occasionally like knowing how others respond.

I can't promise that things will get all lighthearted and fuzzy around here soon.  My mom and brother are fond of saying that they need stability in one area of life (church, work, home) in order to find peace...unfortunately, this isn't a time of stability.  But promise me that you'll keep reading?  That you'll give a little feedback every now and again?  That you'll straight up lie to my face so we can be friends (like ganstas and hoes)?  Kidding on that last one.  Unless I post pictures and you feel the need to comment on my hips.  Be kind, people.  Be kind.

Especially when you figure out that the upside of my day may be this space on the interwebs.  My apologies to Sublime, but bloggin'--it's what I got.  Remember that.