Picture this: I'm laying in bed, one-legged and in my underpants, half-heartedly reading The Tale of Genji. Robert is in the kitchen nuking some dinner before he jets off to see Eddie Izzard in concert. He only has one ticket. Bitch.

Cue terrible scream. I can think of no other way to describe this than to say it was the faggiest thing I have ever heard. Imagine that Nathan Lane and RuPaul put their hands on hot burners simultaneously and you have some approximation. Robert runs to the bathroom holding his hand and whimpering, asking if I have a first aid kit.

I find my reaction to this little scena [sic] pretty revealing. I have a pretty calm head and a pretty unflappable manner in life. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I simply don't get startled very easily. You would think, therefore,that I would calmly assess the situation, analyze solutions, et cetera. Not so. You know that sinking sensation that accompanies a sudden terrible realization, such as remembering a job interview that you were due for an hour ago? Sometimes you get the same sensation seeing something terrible, like a child almost get struck by a car, or a kitten tossed into a river. That was only the first interesting thing I felt when I heard Queen Roberta pierce her index finger--ever so slightly, as it happens--with a steak knife: a heartsick terror.

After chiding him for his fagginess, I experienced another telling emotion. I began to cry. He had really scared me, and I imagined, briefly but clearly, losing him. I've kinda been a weepy mess this week anyway, and I even have teared up a couple of times during this teacher in-service we are doing--not at appropriate moments either. My table mate posits that I'm simply processing the stress of moving out of the only city I've ever known, and she is probably right. I've given up everything for Robert--kinda. He's all I've got up here, him and these Totino's Pizza rolls I'm eating while he watches Eddies Izzard. Bitch.

I homeless...

So, I'm trying not to be Ms. Negative, but I'm currently unable to detach, so here I am: I'm irritated and fucking pissed. Why you may ask? Well, that would be because I don't know if I can get into a damn house. Yes, this is quite the problem. Remember, we (4 adults) are crammed into a 1 bedroom apartment right now...that's right, it isn't a type...4 adults and ONE bedroom! I'm sleeping on a fucking air mattress...in the "living room." I'm sharing a bathroom with three super icky and dirty boys! (Okay, maybe two, but Brandon does have his moments. I swear his brothers are rubbing off on him. He wasn't like this at my house.)
Now onto the real problem. I really loved this house, and I finally got called back. But here's the problem: I'm probably the only person who would qualify by the strict rental rules in this state. Well, maybe it's all states, but it is at least all of the property management places I find here. You have to make 3 times the rent to qualify, pass a credit check and a previous rental history check. Herein lies the problem: I'm the only one to pass the money check. I would probably pass the credit check, I've never defaulted or anything, but I'm sure my debt to income ratio isn't so awesome. As for the rental history, I really don't have one. I just lived out of my Mom's for the first time really last year, but I rented from within my friends house. They signed the lease, and I sure as hell wasn't because they aren't the most financially sound. They choose to not pay bills; it's weird, but I chose to help them out and get the house they wanted. However, I wasn't on the lease, so technically I don't have any rental history. I'm totally fucked. I think Brandon and I are going to end up in our own apartment, which isn't horrible, but I really don't want to be in an apartment. I'm just super bummed.
As for the credit thing, Brandon is the 2nd of 5 boys. Boys #1 and #4 currently reside with me. #1 is SUPER lazy. He admits it, but it's frustrating, because now we're all paying the price...me and Brandon the most. Here's a quick story: Brandon is deploying to Iraq, but has a dirt bike he bought months earlier. #1 says that he'll just take over payments, and pays like 1 or 2 payments in 18 months! Now, B's credit is screwed, and #1's, too, because he bought a bike for his then girlfriend, and they broke up and he never paid one single bill...in 2 years! Oh...and we all have to sign the paperwork and it just won't work for one of us, because we are all living there. As for #4, he's probably okay credit wise, but really doesn't have any because he's 19.
So, now, as if I don't have enough on my mind, now I have to decide to settle with an apartment or find some poor kind soul who is renting on their own not through a property management company. Fuck me! It may be a blessing in disguise to be alone with Brandon, but I'm bummed to be in an "apartment." Oh well. It'll work out. Just pray I can find a fucking apartment now...I suppose. Ugh...I'm officially sad.

Your thoughts...

Okay, so I am totally into getting another tattoo now that I am out and on my own. I've thrown around some quotes, but I'm stuck on "Be not afraid of greatness." It's my favorite Shakespeare quote, I've loved it since high school, and I have it plastered all over my room (signing yearbook after yearbook). It's powerful. We don't decide to not do things because of fear; we don't do things because we are scared that we won't succeed...there's a different. Anyway, here are some fonts. I want to know your expert opinion. I want to put it on my left ribcage (below the bra line...I think...I'm playing around with it) reading from left to right.

Okay, nevermind...I can't get the fonts to work on here. I'll e-mail them, I guess since that's the only place to put a darn attachment. Brandon, peachy to speak with you today. I'll keep working on the inner thigh/vagina tattoo.

Faith

I thought I found my soulmate today...maybe he is. I went to a job interview for 24 Hour Fitness (40 applicants and about 10 interviewers). I get the cute one...magically. Anyway, he's writing left-handed and I'm totally into the tattoo he has on his wrist. I'm staring...twisting my neck...doing everything I can to find out what it says. He finally looks at me and says, "What the heck?" shoving his wrist behing his back, trying to hide the fact that he does have a tattoo. I tell him I want to see it, so he reluctantly drags it out. It's a cross with the word "Faith" written underneath. I about died while screaming, "Shut up," "You have to be kidding me," and "No way." Why? Because if we recall correctly, I have a fish tattooed on my left wrist with the word "Faith" written inside of it. Like I said, I about died. Then I showed him the one on my foot, which allowed me to show off my amazingly cool shoes. He asked why I should have the job. I said (1) my shoes are awesome, (2) my tattoo, (3) I know what I'm doing because I've had the job before...and if I don't know, I'll learn how in 2 seconds flat, and (4) I'm arrogant. If that doesn't get me in, I don't know what will. Ha.

Seriously though, I was smitten. He has more tattoos...on his back...let's just say, I'd like to see them. I just suck at being forward. I mean, I am, but it's not like I asked to go out with him. Should I? He had my resume, my phone number, and it was completely obvious I was flirting. I couldn't have been more obvious. I giggled the whole way out of the damn gym.

What are the chances...same word, same wrist...and we get each other for an interview?

Why are all my posts about the male population? I am pathetic.

I'M SO PROUD OF BOTH OF YOU!

Book Recommendation

"How to Read Literature Like a Professor"

it's fabulous...and something every high school kid in America should read...even if you photocopy only a few chapters...or talk about them

He's just not that into you if...

Okay, I'm dieing here. I miss him...it's killing me! Seriously. I hate to play the pathetic victim, but I am living in Obama-land where tree-hugging crazies worship organic anything while shoving safety pins through their clothing. I met a guy...found out he's 20...almost shit myself. I am making it a horrible habit to compare everyone...and I mean EVERYONE...to him, and it's not boding very well for me...no one will ever be him, and he'll never be what I need him to be (at least, that's what I think...but I'm horrible at reading things). Brandon, bless your heart, bought me "He's Just Not That Into You..." God-knows-how-long-ago. I think I'm able to make some additions (you tell me).

He's just not that into you if...

1. He only calls you every night for crazy, sexy, kinky phone talk. Seriously you guys, I could put a phone sex operator to shame (Is it okay to admit that? Maybe that's why I'm typing it...I feel more normal). This is some marketable hot shit...and every night...no joke (sometimes, if we're lucky, it's mid-day too). He turns me into the horniest person I know...and I obviously do the same to him. This is a guy who's never had sex (although we've come MIGHTY close), and he talks about how he can't wait to have sex with me in every room of OUR house! WTF?! He gets off by me telling him that no other guy can compare to him and I only want his dick FOREVER (sorry for the vulgarity). Seriously though...and you can't call yourself my boyfriend (at least as far as I know)?! What the hell do I do with that? And can you understand my confusion? We text all day long (generally), and we talk on the phone like twice a day. Once is normal (which could be that I'm a retard because I don't know how to work a voicemail or we could have a deep, meaningful conversation about anything and everything...side note: this is one of the things that I LOVE about him). The other though, always sex. I'm not complaining. It's hot. But what the fuck does it mean? And when he's home or in California for a soccer tournament, we have limited phone conversations (in which he'll come back to the privacy of his own room in Colorado and tell me about how much he missed talking to me...or he'll miss out on a trip to the beach to stay in his room by himself to call me). He gets annoyed when I tell him to move out here, but he finds me as an aggressive bitch a total turn on (where I rant and raid about how he's such a pussy for not getting his dumb ass out here and doing completely x-rated, dirty things to me)...he begs me to get pissed and tell him that there's no way in hell I can be his bitch when he won't get his punk ass out here. Does this even make sense? Can you even follow? I don't know if I can...it sounds so awkward written down.

2. It's always too late to answer a serious question. Because every time I bring up whether or not I'm wasting my time by continually devoting all my time to him, he tells me that it's too late to get into this deep conversation (but it's never too late to phone hump...but please keep in mind that I'm the one that gets called...when I called on my birthday, so-called man was already asleep...and let's note that the jealousy factor has been kicked up. During these phone tirades I must continually tell him that every dude that has asked for my number is a stupid idiot (in more or less words) and no one could compare to him...which they can't (or I just keep telling myself that), but he loves hearing it). We've had serious conversations, but they're more about him going back to Cincinnati and what life in general will bring. He's totally freaked out by past relationships. He told me that it was hard to handle me having been with other guys, and I was married, so I'd obviously had sex. I told him that I forgave myself, God forgave me, and if he ever wanted to be with me, he'd have to forgive me too. He said that he respected my decision to leave, but it was a difficult pill to swallow. I told him it was gross to think about any person with another, him included...and his excuse was that the few chicks he had been with (remember, no sex), were all "cool" (by whose standards, I'm not sure).

3. You buy him floor seats to a Nuggets game for his birthday, send him stuff you know he'll like, but you only get a phone call on your birthday. I'm not a big birthday person, and he's DEFINITELY not (a mixture of him being a guy and him being him)...but am I wrong to want just a little something? We talked about getting a plane ticket, which totally fell through (obviously)...and I know he just moved and doesn't have my address (although I did send him a hoodie I found at the Nike outlet)...but, a card...something. Maybe this is dumb...although I know that you will both argue it's not (dang excuses!).

4. He can't move to you, but revels in the idea of you moving to him. Enough said.

5. He can't invite you to his sister's wedding. You know that he talks about you to his family, but there's this totally scary thought of actually bringing you home that he just can't deal with.

Am I a complete moron?

I'm posting a classified, God help me. This is what it's going to say:

Calling all jocks...not I-was-good-in-high-school-once, not I-lift-weights-improperly-like-a-meathead, not I-watch-football-on-Sundays. I need a dude that can beat me at HORSE (and I'm good...damn good). I need a guy that can outdrink me at a baseball game while reciting statistics of players from both teams. You must be well-versed in Sportscenter lingo...if you don't know who Stewart Scott is, don't answer. You must have owned at least one pair of Jordan's in your life, and if you've never heard of Nike Dunks, exit now please. If you have season tickets to any sports team, brownie points for you. If you have a gym membership (and use it regularly), keep reading. I run (a lot), so you have to keep up...but please, I'd rather spend the weekend camping without hearing you complain that your biceps are getting smaller. I have two dogs...they sleep on the bed...if you don't like it, deal with it...if you can't deal with it, find a chick with a cat. If you can't love them, I'll never love you (and that would make dating pointless). Also, must be smart. As in, have a degree, a job, a potential job or at least know what the heck you should be looking for in the classified section. If you think teaching is an 8-3 job, go fuck yourself (seriously...not just for me, but for every teacher out there). Must sit on the couch with me when grading and rub my feet. Don't agree with everything I say...I'm not always right...but when I am, don't be an ass, tell me. Sarcasm required. Life's too short to take everything seriously. Laughing is my favorite pasttime. Looks aren't everything, but I want to want to do you (like AT LEAST twice a day)...if this isn't going to work out for you, get a dog.

Should I post it? Oh...just imagine the dousches I would find. I'm well on my way to a handful at this point.

PS...I found the mall today...amazing...

I've made the trek...and am settling into my new "home"

So, I've made the trip from Ellicott to Phoenix. It was crazy. Let me give you some highlights of the trek:

• Leonidas, my kitten (he's 10 months old), had an interesting start to the trip. I tried to put a Dramamine into some cheese to get him to sleep on the journey. He spit it out. Then my Mom and I held him down and threw it into his mouth and held it closed. He then made himself throw up and the pill. Then, I tried putting it in peanut butter. He started to dry hack. So, we tried mashing it and putting it in tuna and tuna water. He didn't take it still. Crazy cat! So, he just got to enjoy the ride crying for the first hour--non-stop! Then he stopped and was much better.
• Leo doesn't like mountain passes or the windows down...he's an a/c cat! He'll cry when he experiences either thing, but overall the second trip was better.
• I stopped in Durango for the night to enjoy time with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jamie Lynn. We went out and had super yummy sushi and good conversations. It was great.
• Leo and I left a little late, but Jamie and I enjoyed our breakfast. We made the almost 7 1/2 hour drive from Durango to Phoenix. It was really weird to drive past two places I really wanted to go to: Four Corners and Grand Canyon. Oh well. I had Leo and it was WAY too hot to leave him in the car. There's always the next trip.

So, now I'm settling into the little apartment while we look for a house. Well, now I'm sleeping on an air mattress, but with the man I love, so all is well. Life throws some crazy things at you, and I'm there. We've already looked at two houses. One is okay, but I don't really love it for the price. The cool thing is that there are 3 palm trees in the front yard. How cool is it to have palm trees in your front yard? Maybe it's only cool because I'm from Colorado. I'm calling tomorrow to look for more house options.

I've applied for my provisional license in Arizona. Tomorrow is my first day, and I've got jitters. I remember how nervous I was before my first day at Ellicott, and I feel that way again, but it's a little different. In Ellicott, I at least knew where everything was...I'm clueless at Cave Creek. I'm a little nervous, but I think it will be fun! I can't wait! Tomorrow is the start to this new adventure in my life. It'll be interesting. I'll keep you updated.

DENIED

Dear Stephanie Kemp,

After receiving your application for a Washington certificate, you were sent requests for missing/additional materials. To date, we have not received the requested materials. Therefore, we are denying your certification based on the fact that we have not received and/or verified required materials listed below:

Other: Has not yet completed the alternative route certification program and does not have three years of teaching experience.

____________________

So...I have that going for me. Some quotes:

"The will of God will never take you where the grace of God cannot protect you."

"To write you have to live and to live you have to be willing to risk everything it takes."

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go, things go wrong so you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." -Marilyn Monroe

"I gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face...I say to myself, I've lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along." -Eleanor Roosevelt

"Forget about the people in your past. There's a reason they didn't make it to your future."

Miss you today...

Selected excerpts from end of year student letters

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Leaving my comfort behind...

So this week I have done some of the hardest things of my life. Seriously. I'm moving...finally scattering to the third wind to which this blog refers. All I can think to myself is what in the hell am I doing?
Here's why:
I'm going for the experience, to be with the person I love, to teach in an amazing school, to feel like an adult, and for so many other reasons.
Here's why I'm freaking out:
I'm leaving my Mom, sister, and cousin behind--who are the most important people in my life. Who I've never been separated from for more than the month I was already gone this summer. I've packed my room. Said goodbye to my students, colleagues, friends, and family. Although it isn't forever, it sure feels like it. I feel so upset and overwhelmed. I can't stop crying (Brandon, I know you are cringing right now, and Steph, I know that you feel my pain.). Why is this so hard? Oh...wait! I know...it's life. For some reason I live in this crazy land that tells me that everything is a romantic tale, and when it isn't, I kind of freak out. And here I am...freaking out. Not because I am afraid of my choice. I feel like this is all part of God's plan for me...somehow. Today, I looked through all of my old things that students made for me and did. It was so hard to realize that I won't be teaching those kids this fall. I love them, which is something my Brandon can't understand. I don't think I've cried this much saying goodbye in my life. I hate that someone else will be in my room, teaching my kids, and possibly fucking up all of my hard work. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just being hard on whoever they get to replace me, which is a funny concept. I don't think Ellicott will realize how much I've actually DONE for them the past two years, and this year is going to be a wake up call to them. How tragic that today as I walked through those purple doors, I knew I'd never be Ms. Murr there again. I am forever just "Jervaise," or that "teacher who was here for a couple of years...but I can't remember her name." I know I've made an impact on the kids I've taught, but I've grown to love them. I'm sad to not teach them every day and see "Random Banana" on my whiteboard. (Long story short: some of my favorite new seniors as sophomores decorated my whiteboard in fruit whenever I left my room. On the last day of school my first year teaching, they covered my room in real and fake fruit and always just wrote the phrase on my board to annoy underclassmen who didn't know what it meant and to make me smile. This year, one of them told me, they were going to wear shirts that said that on the first day of school just to make me smile. Ugh...I miss them already.)
Now, I get to drive for 13 hours on a trek to the land of extreme heat, to teach at a school with 1800 students. How the hell do you go from 260 to 1800? Holy shit! I know I'll survive and it'll be good for me, but it is really scary. This is the first time that I've admitted that. I'm scared. I'm scared of everything that goes along with this move. I'm leaving my comfort zone behind...and opening myself up to the great big world. I'm excited for what this will hold...but a little weary. As for my friends. The people I've grown to love the past two years and feel blessed to know...we've been scattered to the three winds. We are all experiencing something new this year, and I feel that this blog will help us. I miss you already...and still, somehow, despite all of the moving and saying goodbye, think I'll see you on Saturday morning, where we'll be desperately unhappy in the presence of our dear friend Judi. Hee hee! :)
At any rate, it's getting late. I still have to pack what I'm bringing with me and get ready for bed. Here we go as we embark on this incredible journey called life.

"Another one bites the dust..."

I would be referencing years with that song title remark. I am another year older today, and so is said, another year wiser. This time, I feel like it's true. When I look back on wonderful, ripe age of 23, I can't believe I even made it through. I was married to a real jerk-head (this is me being extremely nice), I got divorced, got fired, met a guy who seemed like mr. perfect until he becamse mr. commitment-phobe (then his dog died), moved 1400 miles away to a city I hardly knew existed before I actually went for a job interview, and have managed to keep my sanity through it all (this is altogether subjective, of course). I wanted to write a poem when I got out here about the finite things that are able to define us at the end of the day (because I wanted to, because it interested me, because through college I found myself being fascinated with the idea of seeing things...those that didn't exist, but also knowing that things existed even when we can't see them). I wanted to write that I could define myself by 27 boxes (or whatever the number was that I would make up and make completely believable, because that's what we do with writing): kitchen , living room, bedroom, bathroom...I mean, really, that's all we are. I couldn't get it out...I couldn't find the right words...because I wanted the poem to mean more. I wanted to say that everything I owned was in theses corrugated pieces of cardboard, but a stranger can't "see" who we really are through these things...and then it turned into more of a number game...we define ourselves in numbers, they're everywhere...but we find people who are able to break these barriers, erase time and space, and allow us to appreciate living. This is what I got:

_______________________________

My Life in Numbers

Alarm clock set for 6:17 AM
5 hours of sleep
Fumbling in darkness to a 12 minute shower
46 pairs of shoes
1 car worth 22 more payments
18 minutes to work
Radio set to 100.2 FM
An 8 hour day crammed with 13 hours of crap

A 7-mile run to escape reality
Or come back to it
56 minutes of painful peace
Heart racing at 122 beats per minute
Passing 13 strangers,
26 pupils
Only 7 smiles

Dinner cooks in 24 minutes
1 cup hot water
2 cups milk
1 pound of meat
Empty package contents
Creating 2 servings
Tomorrow’s dinner

9:57 PM brings
3 phone rings
You
1,398 miles away
To erase time
Erase place
Your voice creating a volumeless vacuum
A limitless space

Minutes become hours
Don’t say goodbye
You defeat time with
Every word
Every breath

1 “call ended”
3 silent tears
2 cold pillows
1 aching heart
1 eager prayer
To erase 337 more days
Without you
_______________________________

I hate it. I love it. I love to hate it. What am I trying to say? Why do I care? Do we all have a "you?" Do we need one?

Anyway, like I said, "another one bites the dust..."...if I even mean another year...maybe I mean another poem, another word, another love. This year, I'm expecting more for myself. I deserve more. We all do.

The Ten Best Things About Stephanie, So Far as I Know:

TEN
She hates the same people I hate. Mostly.

NINE
She pretends to be my girlfriend.

EIGHT
She's pretty when she's angry.

SEVEN
She reads real books.

SIX
She agreed to loan us her womb.

FIVE
Her thighs are muscular, but not like man thighs.

FOUR
She kicks ass, metaphorically and sometimes literally.

THREE
She doesn't pay attention to me when I'm being a dumbass.

TWO
SMOKIN' HOT

And the number one best thing about Stephanie is:

When kids leave her classroom, you can bet your underpants they know how to write.

Happy birthday, poophed.

I Am Magic.

My life is running at a pretty fast clip today. For one thing, I was the thirteenth caller to the radio station and won a pair of tickets to Blues Under the Bridge on Saturday. I had wanted to go, but I decided not too; tickets were too expensive.

After that little miracle, I toodled along to my manifold tasks. Ihad much to do in the Springs, including packing up a bunch of loose physical ends at the old apartment. In sorting through a pile of school-related papers, I found a post-it note from a student:

Lynette M.
National Anthem
July 23 11:00

I had forgotten. Sweet little Lynette, whom I had pushed into honors English against the advice of her other teachers, whom I pushed to join choir and mentored in her singing, who has been succeeding marvelously in both areas, and who looked up to me, I had forgotten that I promised to be there when she sang the National Anthem at a Sky Sox game. Today. I considered blowing it off, for as I mentioned I had a lot to do today, but goddammit I keep my word, especially to students. Besides which, I view little miracles like the discovery of that note on the right day as a nudge from something or someone larger than me. And speaking of little miracles, how about the fact that as I walked up to the ticket box, a lady right next to me said, "Anybody need a free ticket?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm only here to see my student sing the National Anthem," and mentally added, "Who gives a fuck about baseball?"

It is odd to me that Lynette was not there and that they played a recording of the National Anthem instead. Why was I guided to go there like that? I will likely never know, but it is important that I kept my word. Kids deserve to know that an adult will do that for them.

How odd that the three of us are starting a new chapter at the same time. It's not as if we are the same age. Stephanie, you are what, 23? Jervaise is something similar, and I am 27, of course. Who said blogs have to be completely non-fictional? Yet here we are, scattered all over the American West in three completely different cities with three diametrically opposed climates. What will the future bring for us?