Homebody

Jul. 6th, 2008 08:23 pm
kitchen_kink: (love)
Today has been a very good day.

I woke up slowly after a good party, and [livejournal.com profile] imlad made breakfast. I polished and hung up the spice-rackish thing I trash-picked last week, and it looks beautiful and holds all our spices. We finally took Guernica off the kitchen wall, where it was frankly being a bit of a drag, and hung a picture of a squash blossom there instead.

I turned on the oven and nearly smoked us all to death, but in the end I had seared chicken and ribs, which I then put in the crockpot and stewed for many hours with homemade barbecue sauce.

I went to the gym.

I wrote a bunch of work emails and took a bunch of work phone calls.

I hung pictures of me and [livejournal.com profile] imlad around the mirror in our room; I hung more pictures of our loved ones in our hallway. I made a big pot of collard greens and kale with a fat hamhock.

I cleaned off my night table, fachrissakes.

Just finished dinner, and will watch a movie with my sweetie while drinking wine and maybe having ice cream.

Sometimes, the simplest days are the best. (Oh and also: now there's an air conditioner in our living room. Score.)
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Thanks, everyone, for helping me think better about the whole gender issue wrt my character, Conrade. I went with the facial hair today - played around with spirit gum and crepe hair - and it felt so right. I think it'll look a lot more natural under the stage lighting than the makeup would have.

I got my 5.11 Tactical dress uniform pants the other day, and just wearing them has helped change my carriage considerably. I am considering stuffing my pants, but the pants alone actually are helping me walk right, and I don't think I actually need it. (I have ethereal equipment anyway.;)

Any advice on binding would be appreciated; I got a 6" Ace bandage and that did okay, but I'd still like to make them go kind of out and up, so as to simulate pecs...trouble is, any binding just seems to create a flat uni-boob. Thoughts?

Finally, on the topic, just wanted to share this for anyone who hasn't seen it...oh gods, the hotness.

kitchen_kink: (mercenary)
+ Woke up at 9:30, naturally, and did the light thing.
+ Ran or jogged (went from 4 mph up to 6 and down again) for two full miles, for the first time that I know of.

Sweet!
kitchen_kink: (Default)
I just got back from the gym, which I rode a bike to and from, in the rain, and while there, jogged for 20 minutes, or over a mile and a half, without stopping to walk.

This is unheard of in my previous experience. But after running nearly 10 minutes in a row the other day, I did my five-minute warmup today and then, after five minutes, figured, "why not ten?" And after ten, why not fifteen? Then all of a sudden, I'd run the whole thing.

What makes me furious is that for all the required gym classes I suffered through in school, nobody ever taught me *how* to run, or how to enjoy it. We were simply required to do it and not ask questions. From the time I was small and had to do the 600 yard dash, I recall being unable to do it. I'd run my little heart out, but after a quite short time, I'd have to stop, panting and wheezing. I'd walk for a little while, feeling the stitch in my side, my tongue swelling, the taste of iron in my mouth. But no matter how long I walked I couldn't regain the ability to run again, and when I reached the end of the course I would collapse and need to catch my breath for at least ten minutes. Meanwhile, at home, my older cousin would challenge me to foot races, giving me a ten second head start and still creaming me easily.

By high school I'd pretty much decided that I am One Who Runs Only When Chased, and, as in all other affairs of gym class, wore my athletic ineptitude as a badge of pride. (It got me teased slightly less than if I actually tried to do well.) At some point in our junior year, we were forced to run a mile. We trained for it for several weeks, basically by getting out there every day and running as far as we could.

Naturally, I hit up against the same wall: as far as I could was less than five minutes, and then I'd hit what I now know is an exercise-induced asthma attack and would be able to go no further. In the end I said fuck the gym teachers and walked the goddamn mile.

Did these so-called teachers ever think to show the weaker runners how to interval-train? How to use proper form so that you're using your whole body to propel yourself forward, not just your legs? How to prevent injury? Of course not. It was just, "Get the lead out!" and other such wonderfully creative tools of humiliation. Which at that point was as good as dooming my grade, because I responded to humiliation with anger and spite and refusal to do anything, not with trying harder.

A few months ago, all I had to do was go to coolrunning.com and get the "couch-to-5k" running plan. At first running a minute at a time was difficult.

Today I ran my mile at last. And then some. Fuck you, public school gym class.
kitchen_kink: (feathers)
I had very nearly forgotten how terribly much I enjoy watching figure skating.

It's one of those guilty pleasure things, I guess, but I adore it. I love the ridiculous costumes, I get caught up in the personal dramas, the falls make me gasp and the programs of perfect beauty, when they come, move me tremendously.

Last year, [livejournal.com profile] trowa_barton was awesome enough to record the Winter Olympics of '06 in Torino onto DVDs and give them to me. It's only now that I'm getting around to watching them, while I'm sick with an ear infection. Tonight I have the added bonus of watching them while on Percoset.

Wheeeee!

My favorite dramas so far:

-The Chinese pair who tried a quadruple toe-loop throw that landed the woman on her knees on the ice at full speed, but went on to finish the program and get the silver medal, no less.

-The Italian ice dancing couple who came out of retirement to compete in their home country. After doing a perfect compulsory program and getting first place, he dropped her on the last lift of the original dance. The glare she gave him was unforgettable, and they didn't speak or touch until the free dance. The free dance was perfect, passionate and angry, and at the end she finally broke down and embraced him as the crowd went wild.

-The couple who came back to pairs competition after he fell during a complicated lift, landing her unconscious on the ice. They skated a beautiful program, if cautiously, and you could watch the bond of trust strengthen before your eyes.

-The U.S. ice dancing couple that almost wasn't, because she was Canadian. An act of Congress gave her citizenship 50 days before the Olympics. He turned down a chance to compete in the previous Olympics because he wanted to skate with her, and his patience paid off - they won the silver, only the second medal ever won by the US in ice dancing, the first of which was a bronze, 30 years ago.

I am such a nerd.
kitchen_kink: (wedding)
It's been over three weeks, and it's probably time for me to post about the wedding, before the events lose all of their freshness, before I forget a day that was, all cliches aside, the happiest of my life to date.

I should probably begin, in typical narrative fashion, with all of the things that went wrong leading up to it. Everyone talks about how all weddings are just small disasters that somehow come together in the end, and I'd gone into the wedding pretty much viewing it as a huge show I was opening on October 7. I've acted, directed, stage and assistant stage managed, costume designed, and participated in just about every aspect of theatre production, and I know what it's like to put on a show. My favorite thing in the wonderful film Shakespeare in Love is the theatre manager's continued insistence that when everything finally comes together, "It's a mystery." I know only too well the truth of this: pretty much every show I've worked on has been hanging by a thread a week before opening, with everyone stressed to their limits and mortified that it's going to be a total disaster.

This production was no exception; in fact, it was probably the worst I've experienced in this regard. Add to it that fact that along with [livejournal.com profile] imlad, I was acting as producer, director, and lead actress, and it would be difficult for my stress level to be higher. I don't want to dwell on the negative, but to give a sample, I'll cite just a few of the events of Friday, the day before the wedding:

1. I was still waiting for the FedEx truck to bring the final pieces of everybody's clothing from Colorado.
2. When [livejournal.com profile] imlad picked the programs up from the printers, all of the pages were in the wrong order.
3. I picked up my dress, which had been worked on very quickly and thoroughly, that morning, then went across the street to find a dress that would fit [livejournal.com profile] entrope and match the color scheme.
4. Given all of that, we did not arrive on site until well into the dark hours of the evening, when we had intended to arrive around 2pm.

Add to this that my ring was not delivered until the Wednesday before (they broke it twice trying to make it), the store that was supposed to order the clothes [livejournal.com profile] imlad was going to wear never bothered to do it, the linens cost more than twice what I was quoted and my dear friend who was going to do my hair and makeup got food poisoning the morning of the wedding day, and by the time of the ceremony, I was nothing but a huge ball of walking nerves.

Huge, I tell you.

But in the midst of this, there was [livejournal.com profile] zzbottom, who bought food for Friday night's barbecue and acted as head chef, then, along with his girlfriend, set all the tables on Saturday morning. There was [livejournal.com profile] macthud, who loomed in that incredibly calming way he has and lisped at me to make me laugh and feel like a princess. There was [livejournal.com profile] wurmwyd, who was ready to do anything needed, and also did a spectacular job looking after my mother. There was [livejournal.com profile] imvfd, who just took care of all kinds of things almost invisibly. There were the silk monkeys who showed up and provided the most spectacular show and equipment for people - it added so much. There were my official officiants, [livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse and [livejournal.com profile] _cazador, and the wonderful addition, [livejournal.com profile] queenofhalves, who made everything happen, ceremony-wise, without me having to think about it. There were all the attendants, who did everything imaginable to keep me sane. There was [livejournal.com profile] shu_al, who did more than I thought possible to keep the entire operation running. And [livejournal.com profile] sunspiral, guiding the crowd with his fine heraldic presence, and [livejournal.com profile] jirikido, moving silently and making things happen. So many people to thank that I can only begin here, and hope that I can include everyone by the end of this already lengthy post.

And then, there was the wedding.

At 2pm on Saturday, October 7, the stated start time of the ceremony, I was sitting in a chair in the bathroom of the Lodge, having my hair done. Darling D showed up, looking pale, and while I had to take care of my makeup myself, she managed a quick and magnificent 'do incorporating [livejournal.com profile] ayalanya's magnificent headpiece. We were running late, just to add to the stress, but as I watched myself in the mirror and fretted, the vision I had had of myself as bride began, at last, to come together. Quite suddenly I felt that I looked almost perfect, and as that moment of rightness washed over me, I had a chance to get nervous. I had been so consumed up until that point with the concern that everything wouldn't happen properly that I hadn't had a chance to reflect on what I was about to do.

And so, I breathed.

D left for the audience, and I walked out of the bathroom. [livejournal.com profile] shu_al's husband was standing there, waiting to give the signal. It was about 20 minutes past 2.

I looked out the door into the field and saw the circle of chairs. I saw the attendants waiting with their elemental representations. I saw [livejournal.com profile] imlad, my love, standing at one far corner, his anachronistic finery waving in the wind.

And in the center of the circle, my friends were dancing.

The drummers, who were there to raise energy and accompany the firespinners, had begun playing. [livejournal.com profile] regyt was spinning bright gold flags. [livejournal.com profile] water_childe, [livejournal.com profile] danceboy and [livejournal.com profile] dreams_of_wings, among others, were dancing in the circle. As I looked, [livejournal.com profile] dreams_of_wings was being lifted into the sunlight to the sound of drums and spontaneous singing.

In that moment, and in every moment after that and since, I could not have been more moved, grateful, and thrilled to be a part of the community that was there around me. Their love, their joy, their effort, their participatory spirit would not even allow them to be bored waiting for a late ceremony to start: they found a way to begin celebrating right away. In that moment, I knew that everything was going to be perfect. And I wished, as I did many other times that day, that the rest of my family were there.

The message was conveyed and the circle grew silent as people returned to their seats and waited for the ceremony to begin. I propped the door slightly so that I could hear the choir sing. They broke beautifully into Delius' "To Be Sung of a Summer Night on the Water," a wordless expression of ethereal pastoral joy, as the officiants cast. It was a mighty circle they made: I could feel it from where I was.

Then, a moment of silence before the processional. The choir sang "The Heart's Cry," and the attendants, with their elements, processed from the four directions, one pair at a time. The piece ended, and [livejournal.com profile] imlad and I ended up entering the circle in the small space of silence that followed: it seemed somehow appropriate. As I approached the edge of the circle, shaking, grinning my face off, trying not to cry, holding my grandfather's letter that he wrote to my grandmother from the Air Force when my mother was born, [livejournal.com profile] imvfd stood up, and the whole crowd followed. Joy burst in me. I approached the altar, and took [livejournal.com profile] imlad's hand.

[livejournal.com profile] danceboy, invoking the Fey, leapt and flipped and pinched me and kissed the groom and broke the solemnity of the moment in exactly the way we hoped he would, and the spell was not broken but intensified.

[livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse's invocation of the Star Goddess was one of the most powerful magical things I have felt; I'm sure the choir's haunting, quiet chant of "You Who Open the Vault of Heaven" helped. [livejournal.com profile] _cazador invoked the Boatman, and the usual heavy, dark, forbidding and loving presence entered our midst. And we were ready to do the work.

My lovely bridesmaids. The handsome groomsmen. They stepped forward one by one and offered such beautiful blessings and readings that I was overwhelmed. I was so happy to be able to involve them in a way that was more than simple witnessing, and I don't think I imagined what beauty they would bring.

We accepted the Boatman's challenge, and drew two cards, whose meaning we have still to divine.

Then came the charging of the rings. We wanted to involve everyone in this process, and so [livejournal.com profile] queenofhalves taught the chant, and encouraged everyone who felt called to to join in with the choir in singing, and to dance, too, if they wished.

The chant began. The drums started. And then, everyone started to stand up.

The spiral dance that [livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse had wanted somewhere in our ceremony happened spontaneously, joyously, beautifully, and in lieu of a receiving line, I got a chance to look into the eyes of nearly everyone at the wedding as they passed, as we spiraled toward the center and out again, as we raised our voices and our bodies toward sending good vibes toward those wedding bands. I could hardly believe that it happened as it did; I'm still marveling at the pictures. I'm still marveling, too, at [livejournal.com profile] bbbsg, whom a guest I did not know drew into the dance in her wheelchair. I think I almost shouted as she passed in the spiral, dancing with the rest of us, smiling in wonder.

Finally, we read our vows. We decided to write one short text and have both of us read it, changing only the names and husband/wife designations. [livejournal.com profile] imlad got through it solemnly, with a kind of choked up grace. I got to the end before I broke and said the last words, "and maintain a constancy of the highest devotion for as long as I live," in a sobbing cadence, then laughed as I couldn't get the ring on his finger. [livejournal.com profile] redheadedmuse bound our hands and pronounced us married, we kissed the way you do, and the choir sang [livejournal.com profile] sen_no_ongakyu's incredible new piece. Then, drumming by [livejournal.com profile] _cazador, [livejournal.com profile] macthud, [livejournal.com profile] greendalek and the aforementioned composer, with firespinning by [livejournal.com profile] regyt and [livejournal.com profile] buxom_bey, during which everyone sat silently and watched, though they were encouraged to join in dancing.

At the end, though, applause and cheering broke out, the wedding party escaped to photographs, and our guests started the party without us.

Pictures and a few minutes at the Lodge after the photographs tell me that a veritable circus took place there before dinner: silks trapezing, hula-hooping, contact improv dancing, labyrinth-walking ([livejournal.com profile] pheromone actually brought a portable labyrinth!), sangria-drinking (thank you, [livejournal.com profile] tisana!) and munching happened simultaneously.

Dinner was a blur of hellos and hugs and tears and love and excellent food (which [livejournal.com profile] imlad and I wisely enjoyed before everyone else came in to dinner), provided by [livejournal.com profile] deadwinter, [livejournal.com profile] fanw, [livejournal.com profile] doze_e_fish, [livejournal.com profile] rosif3r, and non-LJ Andi. The hall looked lovely (thanks ever, [livejournal.com profile] lifecollage and [livejournal.com profile] doeeyedbunny, who couldn't be there, for the favors, and [livejournal.com profile] rule30 for the decor help), the wine flowed, people stuck leaf-shaped confetti to their foreheads, the music rocked (thank you, Nutz and Dex!), and, strangely, everything went according to plan, only better.

The night wore on, the cake was cut, people started to leave, and then everyone carried the candles from the tables back up to the Lodge. There was a bonfire, more dancing, psytrance, and mostly low-key merriment well into the night, and I felt over and over again rocked in the arms of my loving community.

I want to make a couple of things clear before I end this far-too-long chronicle.

One: if you haven't been directly named here, it is oversight and not ingratitude. Oh, how I love, and how I endlessly thank, every one of you that was there that day.

Two: I don't think I ever fully realized, until that day, the extent of this community's love, support, and commitment to me, to [livejournal.com profile] imlad, and to our union. I don't know if I'll ever stop being profoundly moved by all of you, and by how I felt that day, seeing the way you all made everything happen. There's a part of me, that childish part that's still the little girl nobody is friends with, who still can never quite believe that so many amazing people could ever be more to her than casual acquaintances - or, on worse days, that they're not thinking or saying bad things about her when she's not around. If I'm ever cold or distant, or quiet, if I ever disappear for a time, if I ever seem difficult to reach or hard to be close to, that's why.

And for the first time, at this event, I felt the full force of how much you all care for me, and us, and for each other, and the totality. I felt open to love of all varieties and levels in a way I never had before. I felt, if this makes any sense at all, that the event itself was a vindication of everything I've wanted my life to be: you all made it possible, and made it real. And I didn't shy away from anyone, because I knew you were all here for us, and I could finally feel, without doubts and insecurities, the full measure of your love.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for that, forever.

And for those of you who were invited and couldn't be there: we missed you. We love you. And thank you.

And go here for some pictures (thank you, [livejournal.com profile] mangosteen, [livejournal.com profile] rule30, and [livejournal.com profile] queenofhalves!):
kitchen_kink: (eggplant)
The farmer's market. Oh, organic local peaches. Oh, the start of heirloom tomato season. Fresh small lettuces, samples of watermelon, goat cheese in oil with mediterranean herbs and the cute boy in the ethical society t-shirt manning the Breadsong booth, who smiled so lingering at me when I bought a baguette from him. More than that, though, the incredible feeling of spirit there, the people of the earth, so close, coming together and bringing us real food, right around the corner from my house. When I'm there I'm both so grateful that I live here, and so excited that someday, I might live in California where this happens all year long.

Free Shakespeare in the park. Year after year. Richly produced, innovatively acted, and better every year. Yes, Taming of the Shrew continues to be highly problematic as a text. But this production...it's a good 'un.

Being someone you talk to about your problems. I'm so grateful for the ability to both listen and hear, and maybe even to help, sometimes.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
As you might recall, some days before the day known to some only as "Christmas" (if that's it's real name), I was struck by the sock elves. After much package opening and crack detective work, I have solved the mystery.

But not before a great deal of poetic mayhem had ensued. Thank god no one was hurt.

First came the fuzzy purple sock, all alone, muppet-like and unadorned.

Next, the rainbow striped toe sock, with the following mystifying message:

winter wind blows cold
safely nestled in rainbow
the cozy toes rejoice


An innocent enough message, you might think. Perhaps even friendly. But the intrigue continued.

A sparkly, thin trouser sock appeared next, again in the same cool-hued wrapping paper. This fairy was slick.

feet, oft neglected
sigh and pine for adornment
sparkle, princess foot!


I began to sense we were dealing with some kind of foot worship cult here. I couldn't be sure just yet, but my footy sense told me that something here smelled.

Next came another trouser sock, purple striped, with the sticker, "Space Knit" on it, shaped like the prototypical flying saucer. Stranger and stranger, and just a whiff closer to the truth:

purple striped socks
extraterrestrial made
enjoy on the ground


There it was, I thought, at last the clue I'd been searching for. Clearly this was the agent of some extraterrestrial civilization that held feet up as their gods. Human feet. I could only guess what would happen next, but I feared a ritual sacrifice of some sort.

Sure enough, the next day a white-leopard printed sock appeared, complete with pale blue toes.

jungle noises ring
a sock stalked through green fronds
now presented with love


Could it be that it wasn't feet they would sacrifice, but socks? Could it be that in their culture, socks were living beings, stalked and massacred to appease their misplaced gods?

The next day, tragedy struck.

happy yellow ducks
float on cerulean sock
cheer for chilly feet


A blue sock, speckled with the grisly image of yellow duckies. Who knows what they'd been through before being slaughtered. Cheer for feet, indeed, but what about the socks who had to suffer?

I waited and waited for the other sock to drop. Surely there would be repurcussions, a revelation, some kind of meaning to all of this madness! But I received only another expression of slavish loyalty to the foot-and-sock cult:

oh majestic sock
in you are met the colors
black and crimson red


Black with the horror of death. Red with the blood of innocents. And very, very, very snuggly.

I couldn't sleep. The ghosts of the lone socks haunted my dreams, their mates tramping alone through vast wildernesses, crying out for succor. Beneath my Christmas tree, the lone socks writhed, wailed, and I woke, sweating, my feet cold and unadorned.

I thought surely madness would take me.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. On my doorstep, a large box, rather than a small package. I barely dared open it; I was breathless as I tore the paper, certain that this, at last, would be the solution I had awaited.

I peeled back the tissue paper protecting the creature inside. I at once recognized the knitted remains of the mates of all of the socks I had heretofore received, twisted in a kind of cultish agony, forced into a vague representation of the god to whom I now, nay, all of you, must pay allegience...

No, not Chthulu... )

EDIT:

Dec. 19th, 2005 11:29 pm
kitchen_kink: (happy)
Also, a white leopard-print toe sock with LIGHT BLUE TOES.

*love*
kitchen_kink: (Default)
It looks like Sockmas has struck, and I couldn't be more pleased. Or mystified.

For the past few days, small packages, each in the same sparkly lavender, silver and pale blue metallic wrapping, have appeared on my doorstep with my mail. The current tally:

One very fuzzy and loveable purple sock
One very sparkly thin purple sock
One rainbow-striped toe sock
One very fuzzy red and black striped sock
Three haiku about said socks

Note the number "one" before each socklike item. I also wonder why the fuzzy purple sock has no haiku attached.

Lone, fuzzy, purple
The first sock I received, in
Knitted mystery.
kitchen_kink: (bliss)
So I walk onto my porch after coming from the gym today, and what do I see but a long 1-800-Flowers box on the porch! Sure enough, the damn thing's addressed to me, and I enfold it in my arms along with the other bags and books and things I'm carrying. I open the door, and there in the hall is...another 1-800-Flowers box - this one even bigger!

So after two trips up the stairs, I delay gratification for a little while by tidying up and getting ready for my shower. Then, I open the boxes.

The littler one has a bunch of carnations called Moonshadows, which are of the deepest blue-violet hue I've ever seen. Gorgeous, and simple, and just wow. A card is attached, expressing elegant and heartfelt wishes from my favorite housecat/high priestess, [livejournal.com profile] catling. Much squeeage ensues.

I open the bigger box. Here, ensconced in much paper, each stem with a little water-filled stem-condom on it, are THREE DOZEN ROSES. Not one, not two ladies and gentlemen, but THREE. Three dozen. Thirty-six-freakin'-roses. They are gorgeous, and they easily fill the biggest vase in the house.

I open the card attached to the box. Where [livejournal.com profile] catling's had a little message and her name, this card just says:

"Nice boots."

Okay, people, fess up! I have my guesses, but my first one was wrong. I'll reserve my second guess to avoid embarrassment. Just come forward, put the gun down, and we can forget any of this happened. Or, you know, celebrate that it did!

(Incidentally, [livejournal.com profile] concrete is on his way to the Diesel with my present, which is apparently...more flowers. I am such, such, SUCH a lucky girl.)

I forgot!

Sep. 26th, 2005 01:21 pm
kitchen_kink: (bliss)
In all the hullabaloo of my last post, I forgot a major point:

The glass harmonica.

In Harvard Square, we found a woman playing this bemusing instrument, and I took a turn (so to speak) at the crank while she played a lovely "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." The thing sounds a little like an organ, a little like a musical saw, and of course, a little like when you run your finger around the rim of a wineglass.

She played it by having someone turn the crank, then wetting her fingers and touching them along the gold-leaf edges of each glass bleb in the structure, each of which would make a different note.

This picture looks the most like the one I saw. I seriously could not stop grinning at this thing.



Apparently, this guy can't, either.

My favorite thing about this instrument, though, is its bizarre history and how it languished into obscurity:

A dictionary of music from the period warned that the instrument's "celestial softness" could cause spasms. Cases of Armonica-induced melancholia began making the medical rounds. Several Armonica performers (including one of the most celebrated players, Marianne Davies) were hospitalized for nervous disorders. Soon, the Armonica was being blamed on premature births, causing convulsions in farm animals, domestic squabbles, madness and death. When a child died during an Armonica concert in Germany, the instrument was banned there.

The woman's notes near the glass harmonica that we saw also included "raising the dead" as one of the feared results of the playing of this strange instrument. Damn! Why'd they ban it? Zombie glass harmonica players, come on!
kitchen_kink: (Default)
I found out recently that the guy who played Dickon in the original Broadway cast of The Secret Garden was John Cameron Mitchell. A.k.a. Hedwig.

All of my teenage squeeing now comes full circle in perfect gay harmony.
kitchen_kink: (elated)
Today's teaching was a lot more inspiring. For whatever reason, the kids in the first class were engaged and ready to work. They summarized, they analyzed, they inferred. Look! I almost said to them. You just thought critically! It's a great feeling when you're writing on the board and they just keep throwing up suggestions for what the purpose of Cisneros' essay might be. It's even more thrilling when they start disagreeing with each other, then seeing how they might all be right.

My second class wasn't as great - they're all afternoon-tired at 2:30 and need to be really impressed in order to participate - but I was riding the wave from the first class, and managed to make my way through this one, and by the middle of it, they were saying interesting things too.

Not to mention that I feel scads better today. I'm all energetic and shit. It's weird. I wonder what I'm allergic to!

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kitchen_kink: (Default)
dietrich

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