<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:32:12.077-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Parking</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>155</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1023336641125751819</id><published>2011-01-25T05:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T05:19:04.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby steps</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TT7NwBqFuXI/AAAAAAAAAI8/bZ2L5G9YBXI/s1600/literature.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TT7NwBqFuXI/AAAAAAAAAI8/bZ2L5G9YBXI/s320/literature.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566112414438898034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The semester is officially up and running. This week I have already spoken of due dates and plagairism. There will be student-y things for me to read on Friday, and even more the next week. I am just saying... it is upon me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I embark on my first journey teaching literature, I am overwhelmed with both joy and anxiety. I feel like I am giving them my baby everyday and just hoping that they learn to love it and don't hurt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I am turning 32 in a couple weeks. Yikes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1023336641125751819?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1023336641125751819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1023336641125751819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1023336641125751819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1023336641125751819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2011/01/baby-steps.html' title='Baby steps'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TT7NwBqFuXI/AAAAAAAAAI8/bZ2L5G9YBXI/s72-c/literature.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2722564883962659785</id><published>2011-01-11T04:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T04:47:01.475-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School is now in session</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSxRFL3-aoI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Hdo284MQEJI/s1600/Nathan%2Band%2Bthe%2Bsnowman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 127px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSxRFL3-aoI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Hdo284MQEJI/s320/Nathan%2Band%2Bthe%2Bsnowman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560908789424482946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Telling a kid that he DOES have school is a really crappy moment in parenting. A lot of other school systems are out because of the snow that really isn't a threat to driving conditions anymore, and my son does walk to school, but these points are completely lost on a 6th grader who had the time of his life yesterday. What I am wishing for right now is a heat wave. I want the snow to be gone when he gets out of school so the reminder of the wonder and excitement can fade into the pictures we took and the memories we made.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2722564883962659785?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2722564883962659785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2722564883962659785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2722564883962659785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2722564883962659785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-is-now-in-session.html' title='School is now in session'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSxRFL3-aoI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Hdo284MQEJI/s72-c/Nathan%2Band%2Bthe%2Bsnowman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8722176976738731125</id><published>2011-01-06T04:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T04:27:44.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Take care</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSW1LhmqgmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Bqs1p_OLHTo/s1600/plant%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bwindow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSW1LhmqgmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Bqs1p_OLHTo/s320/plant%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bwindow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559048524662473314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was away over Christmas/New Year, I forgot to ask anyone to water my plant. I wish I had taken a picture of it. It was totally dead when I came home. I watered it, talked to it, and hoped for it. The plant came back! I know it seems silly, but that plant has been in my window for over 3 years. I have looked at it and talked to it and told it all kinds of things as I wash dishes and cook meals. Having it almost wither in front of me reminded me that too many things are precious and need care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That silly plant is a metaphor for a lot of things in my life right now. I have to take better care of myself mainly. I have to remind myself that sometimes my needs come first but that i have to know what those needs are first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heading back to the office today. The syllabus for this lit course will get written, and ecourseware will stop being such a mystery to me. I will water and take care of that with gentle hands and a warm heart as well!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8722176976738731125?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8722176976738731125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8722176976738731125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8722176976738731125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8722176976738731125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2011/01/take-care.html' title='Take care'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSW1LhmqgmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Bqs1p_OLHTo/s72-c/plant%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bwindow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-9013837214841978027</id><published>2011-01-03T05:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T06:00:26.539-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello 2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSHWb6r_rHI/AAAAAAAAAIk/V4onLAM3J_c/s1600/bonnaroo%2Bafter%2Bhours.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSHWb6r_rHI/AAAAAAAAAIk/V4onLAM3J_c/s320/bonnaroo%2Bafter%2Bhours.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959190250499186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is too much to do, so of course I am doing this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another year has come and gone and with it I have grown and learned as well. This past year saw me finally cutting the ties that were restricting blood flow and oxygen to the life I have always wanted. Pain and joy are at either end of the pole that I carry as I walk along the tightrope of emotional well-being. The child I was in the past I can't seem to leave is still present in my lived life. So today and tomorrow and all the days after I am working on looking forward and not back, up and not down, and who I want to be and not who I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again this year, I was reminded of just how beautiful friends are and important and priceless and vital. Friendships are... well, they are the air I breathe these days. i don't know where I would be without the love they show me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan is such a huge part of my life in a way that goes beyond words. Being a better mom dominates my thoughts and is the source of so much anxiety. Do it right? Do it better? Take each day in stride and act like I totally have it all together? This year and all the years from now I want to work on listening more and hearing what he is saying without applying the filter of what I want to hear. Our smooth road is showing signs of being rocky, not now, bur later. I can just feel it... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move forward, move forward, move forward...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-9013837214841978027?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/9013837214841978027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=9013837214841978027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/9013837214841978027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/9013837214841978027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2011/01/hello-2011.html' title='Hello 2011'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TSHWb6r_rHI/AAAAAAAAAIk/V4onLAM3J_c/s72-c/bonnaroo%2Bafter%2Bhours.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8463551953763789349</id><published>2010-12-18T08:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T08:16:46.878-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow flurries</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQzeRPeC3NI/AAAAAAAAAIY/gieBV8_FJZc/s1600/little%2Bbit%2Bof%2Bsnow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQzeRPeC3NI/AAAAAAAAAIY/gieBV8_FJZc/s320/little%2Bbit%2Bof%2Bsnow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552056828432669906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan has gone to Jackson for several days. I have made big plans to clean and scrub everything in existence while he is not here. However, I awoke to a delightful dusting and decided to read a new book. I have put the book down for a quick bite to eat and a quick entry, and then I am returning to the book. It is so freaking good. Sadly for my cleaning plans, this book is part of a trilogy... Ah best laid plans and all that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8463551953763789349?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8463551953763789349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8463551953763789349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8463551953763789349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8463551953763789349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/snow-flurries.html' title='Snow flurries'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQzeRPeC3NI/AAAAAAAAAIY/gieBV8_FJZc/s72-c/little%2Bbit%2Bof%2Bsnow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5543745646322623655</id><published>2010-12-14T10:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T10:29:58.862-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am accomplishing a lot of professional goals</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQe3ejf7AeI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/xM2OJtGaR2E/s1600/boat%2Bon%2Bthe%2Bwater.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 177px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQe3ejf7AeI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/xM2OJtGaR2E/s320/boat%2Bon%2Bthe%2Bwater.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550606801310515682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professional goals entry seems like an anti-climactic end, but so it goes. Thing is, it is actually a pretty good way to end the list because it is a beginning of sorts. You see, the times they are a changing, and job security is a luxury I do not have. Oh sure, I am well-liked and doing a good job, but that, dear reader, does not a tenured professor make. What will I do to make my star a little shinier? What will I do to make just a little easier to renew my contract every three years? I will be productive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amid a uniquely treacherous summer, I made a personal commitment to add at least 3 things to my CV. I have done just that! I worked for TN DOE in partnership with Pearson on two projects for the EOC test, I was elected and now serve on the department’s Lower Division Committee, and I had a paper accepted to a conference coming up in March. I also participated in two service projects as well as added another course to my CV. My service to the Committee also includes an ad hoc committee for textbook selection for fall courses, so I am sure I can find a way to work that onto the old CV. I suppose that means I doubled my goal number, but for now I am just going to enjoy meeting the goal not surpassing it.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be more, but I am slowing down a bit to make sure the things I have added are not just words on a page. I have these other goals that include really getting into the service I can do now that I am no longer in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is the PhD you might wonder? Well, it’s out there, y’all, it really is. Life is really good for now, and I am not in any hurry to rock the boat that sits finally on a tranquil lake. The view is nice. I want to savor it, rejoice in it, and marinate for a bit. For the first time in my life I can say that I think I deserve to enjoy what I have been working so hard towards having. There is sun and rain, warm and cold, and, yes, joy and pain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5543745646322623655?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5543745646322623655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5543745646322623655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5543745646322623655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5543745646322623655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-am-accomplishing-lot-of-professional.html' title='I am accomplishing a lot of professional goals'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQe3ejf7AeI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/xM2OJtGaR2E/s72-c/boat%2Bon%2Bthe%2Bwater.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8518138718697085013</id><published>2010-12-13T04:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T04:30:08.065-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My mother and I are not speaking</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQYRxITa2lI/AAAAAAAAAII/L7pElJPD648/s1600/mommy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQYRxITa2lI/AAAAAAAAAII/L7pElJPD648/s320/mommy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550143126520912466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, I said I went away to a place where I could write moody blogs. This thing with my mom is what drove me there, and for some reason I really don’t want to go into every detail here. Sure, this on thing happened, and these words were spoken, and everything changed. However, I am happier than I have ever been, and I really think that part of my joy comes from releasing me from that relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have told me since all this happened that they knew my mom was mean and hard to handle and fake and all that. When people say that about a member of your family, you are supposed to get defensive and angry and rush to that family member’s aid. I don’t do that, I feel heard when people say that. I feel defended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were sometimes good between us, I am the first to admit it. There were a lot of times that I felt really lucky to have a mom like mine. Ok, maybe a few times I felt that way. Alright, at least 5 times. The point is, in there somewhere there are some better moments than where we are now, but I am done. There isn’t anything I want to hear, there isn’t anything I feel like I need to say, and there isn’t enough time that will pass to make this better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s the holidays, and I just want to make it through. The part of this that causes me the most strife is Nathan’s relationship with her. I don’t want to stand in the middle, and I don’t want to keep them apart. I make sure he gets time with all of his family because he loves them, and I won’t be the one tearing that love apart or challenging it. There is a tiny voice in my head that says , “You will figure it out someday.” But for now, I try to quiet that voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it is a vague rendering, and I am sorry if it seems superficial, but I really am done explaining it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8518138718697085013?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8518138718697085013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8518138718697085013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8518138718697085013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8518138718697085013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-mother-and-i-are-not-speaking.html' title='My mother and I are not speaking'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQYRxITa2lI/AAAAAAAAAII/L7pElJPD648/s72-c/mommy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-62398795910704256</id><published>2010-12-12T05:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T05:56:04.402-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am happy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQTUaVguyRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/c56eZQ799-Q/s1600/new%2Bglasses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQTUaVguyRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/c56eZQ799-Q/s320/new%2Bglasses.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549794189743409426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I should save this one for last, but I am sticking to the list. Yes, I am happy. There is a post that will be following this one that might suggest otherwise, but all I have to say is that I am happier than I have ever been and it isn’t for just one reason alone. Every day holds something new and something old for me. For so long, I was working toward a goal, but because I was so afraid that life’s bottom would fall out, I was always afraid to really envision the fruits of my labors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I allowed myself to admit that I was happy, I did it in a whisper, and then I looked for the world to come crashing in on me. I was driving down Poplar on my way home right where I pass by the burger place and East High School. Nothing all that special had happened that day, and there wasn’t anything all the inspired at home. I was just driving, well sitting at a red light, and this really happy rush just sort of bubbled up inside me. Before I ducked and ran from it (metaphorically of course), I just named it. I thought to myself, “I am happy.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure I waited for the end of it for a while, because it was a few weeks before I tried the words out again. In fact, I said them out loud. I was doing laundry on a Friday when Nathan was at school and I didn’t have to go to work, and I just said it. “I am happy.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, y’all. I haven’t lost my mind. I was just programmed to believe that happy people are rich and thin and gorgeous. I was never taught to believe that happiness was something I could experience, and that is the rub and one of my more important discoveries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is not a place, it is not a plane of existence, it is not a Mecca at the end of a perilous journey. Happiness is a feeling that we allow ourselves to find. It is there on the drive home, it is there in the laundry room, and it is even there when the world does come crashing in on me. As I move away from the sadness I have known and the work I have done, I realize that even in the past I was happy, and that by not allowing myself to experience it, I closed a lot of doors in my own face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were times when it was pointed out to me that I was a real pain to be around, and I am sure that these thoughts are still true of me from time to time. I was afraid. I am not afraid anymore. The world moves the way it moves and I am somewhere in it. The good that this life has for me will be evened out by the bad. I have to make sure that I can feel the happiness in every moment even when it seems impossible to find.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-62398795910704256?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/62398795910704256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=62398795910704256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/62398795910704256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/62398795910704256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-am-happy.html' title='I am happy'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQTUaVguyRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/c56eZQ799-Q/s72-c/new%2Bglasses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2113210174587367190</id><published>2010-12-11T07:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T08:00:49.192-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My son goes to a Memphis City School</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQOf2ByTkYI/AAAAAAAAAH4/qpHzp5qqSOc/s1600/Nathan%2Bthe%2Bfootball%2Bplayer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQOf2ByTkYI/AAAAAAAAAH4/qpHzp5qqSOc/s320/Nathan%2Bthe%2Bfootball%2Bplayer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549454916391768450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that had really scared me about officially moving to Memphis was the prospect of my child being enrolled in a school that is a part of such a renowned school system. I get a little miffed at those who just blindly offer that the Memphis City School system isn’t “that bad” because it is that bad. Education is a joke to Memphis City if you are only looking at it from what comes across the news. School performance scores are not the indicator. More often than not, it is public opinion that either damns or lauds a school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may sound like I am trying to talk out of both sides of my mouth, but the truth is, Nathan is at one of the little exceptions to the general attitude of Memphis City Schools. When I tell people that my son goes to Snowden, I am met with a nod of approval. People get a knowing gleam and they holster their slurs in favor of a smile and appreciation. Is Snowden perfect? No, of course not, but in our short time here, we have had a lot of good experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan wanted to play football as soon as he knew there was the chance. Now, Nathan has never played, never really touched a ball, and only watched some games here and there. I was pretty convinced that he didn’t actually know the difference between offense and defense, between touchdowns and safetys, or rushing and passing. (These, I must tell you, are the limits of my own football knowledge…)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first month or two of school, academics aside, was all about figuring it out. Luckily, I knew he would need cleats, but what about the pads? What about the equipment? What about the… you know… the thing… that thing? All I can say is that each day presented a new challenge and a new hurdle, and that was just me! Nathan, on the other hand, well, he reminded me every day that he is a good kid who I just never give credit to when I should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went to school every morning with his back pack and his bag of football clothes. He learned the combination for his lock, he kept up with his stuff, and he worked his butt off. I would pull up to practice and see my little guy out there. At first he was always the last one running, the last one picked, and the last one looking to be picked. He learned how to listen, how to run, how to hit, and how to take a hit. His clothes got loose, his bruises multiplied, and his attitude hardly ever faltered. He went to practice every day, somedays until 6 or 7, and everyday he went back for more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He played just a few times, but during the last game of the season, Nathan got to play for about 28 minutes. He was on the field when his team scored, and he swears he will go back next year. This kid learned a lot, and I learned a lot about the kid. He broke my heart about a million times during the season. At every game I saw a kid who was happy to see me, but he just barely waved. He knew I was there, but he wanted to look cool in front of the guys. I know, I know, it’s what boys do. It still makes the mama’s heart hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is of course more to school that sports. Nathan jumped right into school work, and it wasn’t long until we started to see the differences between where we had been and where we were. Snowden had some pretty silly projects. I felt like I needed to buy poster board every week for some kind of map or poster project. Nathan was doing well, but he was working around learning how to be more responsible for his actions. There were some missed homework assignments, and a project that was due the day after a game that I thought might be the end of the easy run. But before too long we found a pattern, and it has been working well for a while now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 or 3 weeks into school, Nathan starts talking about a program called CLUE. This is the equivalent to a gifted program at most schools. Of course my child is smart, and of course he does well, but was he gifted? I expressed interest in finding out more, and that is when I learned more about the bureaucracy that is the Memphis City School System…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short, Nathan got in! He had to take two tests, one of which was an IQ test, and I had to fill out a mountain of paper work, but it happened! The other day he came to my bedroom door as we were getting ready for school. He told me that he looked forward to going to school in a whole new way since he started CLUE. This of course made me very happy, but I suppose that is the next item on the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2113210174587367190?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2113210174587367190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2113210174587367190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2113210174587367190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2113210174587367190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-son-goes-to-memphis-city-school.html' title='My son goes to a Memphis City School'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQOf2ByTkYI/AAAAAAAAAH4/qpHzp5qqSOc/s72-c/Nathan%2Bthe%2Bfootball%2Bplayer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4960610911830233752</id><published>2010-12-10T04:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T04:51:29.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I moved to Memphis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQIiR_aiDnI/AAAAAAAAAHw/YlnQi6Mh73A/s1600/house.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQIiR_aiDnI/AAAAAAAAAHw/YlnQi6Mh73A/s320/house.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549035383349710450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I moved the Memphis. Basically, and now I can't remember how, I heard about a meeting that was going to be at the school I wanted Nathan to go to. Always nervous about public schools and especially Memphis City Schools, I had begun researching schools as soon as I got the job at U of M. After I had ruled out private schools (for the obviou$ reason), I had decided White Station and Snowden were the schools for us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only took a casual glance at White Station to rule it out. The school is a giant! I was immediately afraid that my baby would get lost. Also, the cost of living in a neighborhood zoned for White Station was just way more than I could manage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon close inspection, Snowden stood out as the school for us. So some day in January near the end of the fall semester, I ventured to Snowden for a meeting about the optional programs. Incidentally I went with Sage, a person who I have gotten closer and closer with over this past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The program sounded great, the administration seemed to have it together, and there was a certain charm to the school that I had not been expecting. It was also across the street from a coffee shop which I continue to think was a sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another discovery made at this meeting was that I needed to get my butt into the zone where the school is located. I remember going home that night and feeling like I needed to move to Memphis the next day and get the paper work started so that Nathan would be able to go to that school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately I ransacked Craigslist for anything in the 38112 area. Thanks to the location of the school, I at least knew where to look, but I had no idea about some of the neighborhoods. I needed to go for a ride, and I needed to do it pretty soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first trip to 38112 was done with my friend Laine. She and I canvassed the neighborhood while I looked for "For Rent" signs and she wrote down info. It was a good first day, but it also hinted that this was going to be a much more involved process than I had first hoped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next trip to 38112 was done with Sarah. This time my passenger still wrote, but Sarah started calling some of the numbers for me. Each answered call was met with a voice that quoted some huge monthly rental total that staggered me every time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a few places where we had left messages, but it was a bleak prospect on a day pocked by so much disappointment. We went to a basketball game that night, and then we went to a bar to see a band. I was exhausted as I drove home, and I was starting to wonder if there was going to be hope...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday of that same weekend I got a phone call from one of the places where we had left a message. It was the place on Galloway. It was a duplex which had not really caught my eye, but it was just two doors down from Sage, the woman I had gone to the meeting with. She and I knew each other pretty well, and she had actually told me about the place for rent on her street a few days before I had started looking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice on the other end of the phone told me price and rooms. The price was one of the lowest I had heard, but it was still 50 bucks out of my highest range. I asked him if it was possible he could come down just 50 dollars. He said he would talk to his wife about it, and we scheduled a time to come by and see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was going to be a week... I had a week to imagine that it was going to be the worst place on the planet. I could afford this one, Nathan could go to the neighborhood school, and there was someone in the neighborhood that I knew. It was all just too good to be true, and worried. I worried a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day finally came. I arrived, knocked on the door, and walked into the place where I have now been living for almost a year. It wasn't perfect, but it was pretty close. It had hidden surprises like a huge laundry room and amazing water pressure. It had some duller moments like the carpet in the hallway. (He called it mauve, but you and I would call it pink.) I knew before I even got to the covered patio that this was going to be my Memphis address.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved in March! Nathan finished school in Jackson and spent the summer between Memphis and his dad's house in VA. These days I am quite moved in, Nathan walks to school everyday, and I am developing a real friendship with Sage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess what I left out is how beautiful it is here. It is a historic neighborhood with beautiful old houses, mature trees, sidewalks, people walkng their dogs, poeple running, and kids playing. Some days when I pull onto my street, I just start to smile because I am so happy where I am. But that is another number than I will cover another time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4960610911830233752?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4960610911830233752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4960610911830233752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4960610911830233752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4960610911830233752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-moved-to-memphis.html' title='I moved to Memphis'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQIiR_aiDnI/AAAAAAAAAHw/YlnQi6Mh73A/s72-c/house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4958495643766641479</id><published>2010-12-09T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T04:59:39.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Psssst, I am still here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQDSrVv1zgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Jd-FLnDd_co/s1600/Nathan%2Band%2BMe%2Bat%2Bthe%2BMemphis%2BUT%2BMartin%2BGame.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQDSrVv1zgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Jd-FLnDd_co/s320/Nathan%2Band%2BMe%2Bat%2Bthe%2BMemphis%2BUT%2BMartin%2BGame.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548666382934461954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, I am. Truthfully, I have still been blogging, but I decided to go somewhere else for a little while and be a little moodier than I ever really am over here. That is just how it goes sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been almost a year since my last entry, and of course there have been some pretty colossal changes in my life. Let me see if I can come up with the top 5:&lt;br /&gt;1) I moved to Memphis&lt;br /&gt;2) My son goes to a Memphis City School&lt;br /&gt;3) I am happy &lt;br /&gt;4) My mother and I are not speaking&lt;br /&gt;5) I am accomplishing a lot of professional goals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe (I am coming up with this as i type) I will use these top 5 as the subjects of future blogs? That sounds like a pretty good idea. The semester is pretty much over, so I am sure I will be looking for something to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for me to do something else for a while. I just wanted you to know, little blog, I haven't forgotten you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4958495643766641479?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4958495643766641479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4958495643766641479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4958495643766641479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4958495643766641479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/psssst-i-am-still-here.html' title='Psssst, I am still here'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/TQDSrVv1zgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Jd-FLnDd_co/s72-c/Nathan%2Band%2BMe%2Bat%2Bthe%2BMemphis%2BUT%2BMartin%2BGame.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8171442966558670414</id><published>2010-01-20T09:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T09:22:47.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow going</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S1c7v8udlpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/LTssTf6rEXY/s1600-h/traffic+jam.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S1c7v8udlpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/LTssTf6rEXY/s320/traffic+jam.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428873570759317138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on my way to class and just wanted to say... Whew what a week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have gotten in 2 traffic tie ups on days when I left especially early so I could get some extra AM work done pre-class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pic above is what I got to look at for an hour and 15 mins over the course of 8 miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's traffic jam was because a gas tanker blew up. They actually shut down 240. It was intense. Of course I needed to use the bathroom... Haha, oh well. Got to school on time and dry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw. Yes, that is a "W the president" sticker on the guy's helmet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8171442966558670414?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8171442966558670414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8171442966558670414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8171442966558670414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8171442966558670414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/01/slow-going.html' title='Slow going'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S1c7v8udlpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/LTssTf6rEXY/s72-c/traffic+jam.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8904212737489052253</id><published>2010-01-11T14:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T14:28:21.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something good this way comes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S0ulxHcEDTI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xr6QgKTfdFI/s1600-h/chicken+pot+pie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S0ulxHcEDTI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xr6QgKTfdFI/s320/chicken+pot+pie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425612439326821682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made homemade chicken pot pie instead of working on my syllabus. That is just how dedicated to procrastination I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School starts this week, and I feel pretty good about what I have planned for the first day. Ask me about the semester, and I will have to respond with a blank and slightly apologetic stare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends are good, kid is good(ish), work (will be) is good, and so is everything else. Reading books, watching shows, living outside the bubble for a change. Looking for a Memphis crib and a school for Nathan occupies the not-busy-writing-a-syllabus time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somedays I still feel like whistling past the cemetery in order to ward off the evil that I just know is lurking around every corner. The paranoia is not where it was, and that is the best of all the good that has come my way lately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8904212737489052253?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8904212737489052253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8904212737489052253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8904212737489052253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8904212737489052253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/01/something-good-this-way-comes.html' title='Something good this way comes'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S0ulxHcEDTI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xr6QgKTfdFI/s72-c/chicken+pot+pie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5734513551999125158</id><published>2010-01-03T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T17:23:14.404-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weather report/Time table</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S0FCq56_7EI/AAAAAAAAAG8/Lwnfukz4Ov4/s1600-h/Books+on+the+table.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S0FCq56_7EI/AAAAAAAAAG8/Lwnfukz4Ov4/s320/Books+on+the+table.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422688731201006658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a suggestion or a warning my life has gotten a little full of new gadgets. I feel like I was pretty comfy somewhere in 1997 and suddenly I have been morphed into this land of 2010. Actually this an overly dramatic way of announcing the arrival of my new phone and my new lap top. Stop rolling your eyes. On some level the afore mentioned time travel is actually kind of true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this has been said just so you know that my updates may be a little more regular, the pics may be of a slightly better quality, and the content may become slightly diminished as well. I will do my best to keep that last one to a minimum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing I keep thinking is just how freaking grown up I feel and how less and less cool that is. Transition is the name of the game, and change is the fuel to this fire. The coming semester is like the SBT version 2.0 that I have been longing to deliver. This week will see me working on a syllabus in a way that I haven't ever done before. Nathan also starts phase one of his orthodonture which is very intense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those winds of change are kicking up a storm, but I do feel like I am in a good place to weather it this go around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5734513551999125158?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5734513551999125158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5734513551999125158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5734513551999125158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5734513551999125158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2010/01/weather-reporttime-table.html' title='Weather report/Time table'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/S0FCq56_7EI/AAAAAAAAAG8/Lwnfukz4Ov4/s72-c/Books+on+the+table.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6318809294550969526</id><published>2009-12-28T19:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T19:38:06.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2009 retrospective thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/Szl5MF8ZYBI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Nv8zzwmUi-U/s1600-h/Beach+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/Szl5MF8ZYBI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Nv8zzwmUi-U/s320/Beach+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420496875177992210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been a "where was I this time last year/month/week?" kind of a person. So, without feeling the need to analyze or justify that mentailty, I am doing that same sort of inventory as this year/decade draws to a close. Trite and cliche, I know, and well, I am doing it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was de-freaking-pressed last year. I mean, I don't know how I made it through! Only, I actually do know, and now I want to say what I am grateful and thankful and hopefully understand and value these things even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past year I depended on my friends. The people who loved me when I could not and would not love myself loved me when I was pretty bitter and unloveable. Today as I stand in the present wedged between the past and the future, I know that the buddies who love me today and loved me yesterday will love me tomorrow. That is a huge, huge, tiny thing that I appreciate more and more everyday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past year I went from a job I tolerated to a job I love, and I know that I am not defined by the place that signs the check or the title I have. I LOVE what I do, and I will always find a way to do it. Paid, not paid, professional, unprofessional, everyday I learn that I really believe that written communication is the last equal footing there is in this world, and I will teach others how to be amazing at this while remaining true themselves. Grammar doesn't mean anything if the words aren't grown from the soil of individual thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I am sitting in a room overlooking the cold Florida beach. Today I sat in the sun and just giggled at the about face my life has made from last year to now. Next year may be better, it may be worse, but every year teaches me something I thought I already knew in a way that quietly knocks me down every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6318809294550969526?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6318809294550969526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6318809294550969526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6318809294550969526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6318809294550969526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/12/2009-retrospective-thing.html' title='2009 retrospective thing'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/Szl5MF8ZYBI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Nv8zzwmUi-U/s72-c/Beach+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-3213497467465563969</id><published>2009-12-16T10:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T10:48:57.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas card</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SykqS92r8hI/AAAAAAAAAGs/5A8MRyPlXdk/s1600-h/reindeer+and+me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SykqS92r8hI/AAAAAAAAAGs/5A8MRyPlXdk/s320/reindeer+and+me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415906532219679250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a funny pic that continues to make me laugh every time I see it. That's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I have a stack that needs grading, a book that needs averaging, and a syllabus that needs writing, I am going to take some time to update my blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty content with recent events. Survived the Shit Storm of 2009 and have prepared for the impending January crisis over taxes that will generally happen somewhere around the New Year. No news there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving the car, ready for the license plate to be registered, loving the new bank, and secretly giving the bird to every Regions bank I pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gearing up for basketball with buds and the kiddo. Needing to go get tickets today. Hoping I don't forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure there is a song that I could listen to for inspiration. Wishing I was done or at least in the possession of a magic wand... I have been wanting one for ages. Ages!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hug a reindeer, kiss a kid, eat a cookie, and have a happy holiday season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-3213497467465563969?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3213497467465563969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=3213497467465563969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3213497467465563969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3213497467465563969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-card.html' title='Christmas card'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SykqS92r8hI/AAAAAAAAAGs/5A8MRyPlXdk/s72-c/reindeer+and+me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8075285776595466437</id><published>2009-12-06T07:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T07:59:56.115-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rose by any other name</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SxvT1NUoFqI/AAAAAAAAAGk/8VcM9ZMH1UU/s1600-h/downsized951205091057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SxvT1NUoFqI/AAAAAAAAAGk/8VcM9ZMH1UU/s320/downsized951205091057.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412152288278484642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There she is! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is another day of productive grading and friendship in Nashville. I swear I don't live here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it funny that every trip to Nashville, every weekend of the last three weeks, has been made in a different car? Each trip made was unsure of the next day and unsure of the coming week, and yet here I am! There is a new car in the lot where my junked old car once sat. If someone had told me last week about where I would be this week, would I have believed that person? I have no idea. I know that anything is possible and that taking the first step is how it is done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saying it again, knowing that I have said it already, I feel like such a grown-up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8075285776595466437?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8075285776595466437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8075285776595466437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8075285776595466437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8075285776595466437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/12/rose-by-any-other-name.html' title='A Rose by any other name'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SxvT1NUoFqI/AAAAAAAAAGk/8VcM9ZMH1UU/s72-c/downsized951205091057.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1475133652345475628</id><published>2009-11-29T06:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T06:21:42.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Question</title><content type='html'>Alright, think about this. Are you who you are or who you want to be? Seriously, I mean, I am 30 years old, and this seemingly amateur question keeps rolling around in my head. Are we on a road to self discovery or are we on a quest to be some kind of super-self, forged from the baser fires of human desire? I really don't know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure it is the knowledge of the difference and not some sort of cosmic, judgemental scale that places me here to ask this question. No one answer is any better than the other. Option A or Option B do not determine your or my place in the world. I guess I just want to know which journey am I on? Am I looking in to be out or am I looking out to be in? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doubtful that I am the first to ask this question but sure that I am asking it of myself for the first time, I am going to go with I am who I want to be, but that person is dependent on who I have been shaped to be thus far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is not a fence type answer, I think it leans toward who I want to be more than who I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The coffee isn't ready yet, and my fingers feel clumsy this morning. Spending time with someone else's family later today, and I secretly pretend that they are mine. Not such a secret now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No news on the car. Progress is being made. Listening to tapes in the old red car. Feels like high school. Probably the subconscious source of such nascent introspection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1475133652345475628?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1475133652345475628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1475133652345475628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1475133652345475628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1475133652345475628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/question.html' title='Question'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5736143338115804779</id><published>2009-11-22T06:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T07:03:23.331-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday night lights (on tow trucks)</title><content type='html'>In Nashville this morning. Drove up Friday night to spend some QT with one of best buds and oldest friends. At the 65/40 split, my old faithful car coughed, sputtered, and gave up the ghost. That line from Braveheart, that was what I thought of first. "Death comes to us all." My little car, who is a who and not a what, passed away 12.6 miles from my destination, and now she sits in my friend's parking lot awaitng the inevitability of her junkyard demise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone know anyone who wants a good deal on some extremely new and hardly used BF Goodrich's? I was so happy about the deal I got on them,and I will sell them for less than what I paid. They still have the little new tire marks on them... Driven on them less than 2 weeks... New rainX wipers, too... Oh, and the new headlights... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and step-dad not being supportive. No news there. I can here the "I told you so" in the back of everything my mother has said to me since Friday night. They own 5 cars, they had time this weekend, and they have not offered to let me borrow one to get to work on Monday. I don't actually know how I am going to get to work on Monday or the days after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that they own 5 cars, and that they only drive one of those cars on Friday night and once in the summer when they drive to Florida?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is all kinds of good in this. Seriously. Towing my car from the interstate to Sarah's apt only cost me 4 dollars. The guy driving the truck was not creepy and he was kind. A guy from a repair shop drove to where my car is parked and told me not to waste my money fixing a car that wasn't worth the cost of repair. My friend's husband has friends in from out of town, and they have generously offered to take me home because it is on the way. My friends have made so many unbelievably kind offers, including the offer of letting me use one of their cars, and they have been so nice about everything. Sarah talked the her apt manager, and made sure my car would be ok sitting in their lot for a week. Seriously, a lot of good things have happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Friday night we went to see the best movie of 2009. I wanted to run back in to the theater and watch it again. The Blind Side. Go see it. We got a ton of school work done yesterday. She studied for law school stuff, and I graded 24 essays in one sitting. Today we will do more of the same, and there is a real possibility that I will be able to finish everything before schools starts back on Monday. I told you, lots of good things happened this weekend. Did I even mention the fabulous Indian food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got a chance to really talk to my friend about the events in my head. She just understands, and that makes me feel better than anythng else right now. It's just so good to have a friend who loves me, puts up with me, and understands what I am trying to understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I wish she would wake up so that we can get this productive day moving. Hehehe. I will start the coffee. That may do the trick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5736143338115804779?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5736143338115804779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5736143338115804779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5736143338115804779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5736143338115804779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/friday-night-lights-on-tow-trucks.html' title='Friday night lights (on tow trucks)'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6467587616968439406</id><published>2009-11-18T14:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T14:53:39.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tumble dry ideas</title><content type='html'>Everyday is like rising closer and closer to the surface. Yesterday was full of feeling like myself. Today, I have been very upbeat, but not unrealistically happy. I am looking at just how sporadic and erratic my feelings can be, and I am just sort of thinking about how a thermostat would try to regulate. No, this is not ideal, but I think it is still better than just wishing to be better and that being all I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basketball was good last night, and even though it was a loss, I think our reputation is a lot more in line with where it was that where it was going. My student who was on ESPN until midnight last night was in class at 11:30 today. I staggered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends are so important. I keep thinking about that these days. The ones I have had and the ones I will have and the ones I have right now, they are all such a part of me. I am missing one friend so much. I wanted to watch basketball with this friend, I wanted to laugh at this CD with this friend, and I wanted to just drink a cup of coffee with this friend. I won't be doing any of those things. That is how it seems. I am not even sure if I should hold out or keep walking away. I keep looking back, that is for sure. I keep looking for my friend to say that things will be ok, and that we can be friends again. It's the saddest thing I think these days, and I try so hard not to think about it too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever felt like you are so much better at being who you are, but that the who you are never really gets to be seen the way you want it to be? That is another thing I think about. I know, it seems incredibly self-absorbed and narcissistic, and I can be those things, but the drive causes my mind to wander, and sometimes I get stuck on self without any way away from it. Just thoughts that tend to drift in and out, but they are the thoughts that seem most celebrated in a blog where I share MY thoughts. That's all I'm sayin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lonely Island songs in my head today, too. It's difficult to teach without smirking as I go through the lyrics to the last track on the CD in my head. If you don't know, it is a song about three 13 year old boys who have sex with an alien (at the same time thanks to the generous, hospitable anatomy of the arguably male alien)in order to preserve the alien race. After the group climax, the alien grants the young boys a wish. They all agree that they want to be the "greatest fake MC's on earth." Try teaching comparison and contrast essay writing with that song in your head...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6467587616968439406?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6467587616968439406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6467587616968439406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6467587616968439406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6467587616968439406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/tumble-dry-ideas.html' title='Tumble dry ideas'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2055184118245460570</id><published>2009-11-16T07:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T07:44:23.721-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Repurposing office supplies</title><content type='html'>Got through the weekend and made it back to work today. It started to rain somewhere around mile marker 52, and I looked forward to testing out my new wiper blades. Looking for the little things. Read a lot this weekend, didn't grade that much, and cooked a few meals. Doing instead of not doing seems to be a good step to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using office supplies to keep my hair off my shoulders today. With my door open, I am sure someone will wander by and wonder why that girl has a huge paper clip holding her hair up. The rain has made the air in the office humid, and I just can't stand that feeling. I improvise with office supplies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrote poetry in my head today. Going to see if I can remember it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heavy velvet slumber stealing sleepy sighs&lt;br /&gt;Wrap me up, hold me on&lt;br /&gt;Around deeper thoughts and preventing inspired rise&lt;br /&gt;Cocoon, a womb, red heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;Breathe more or less against the morning writhe&lt;br /&gt;Broken skin, torn will, pain&lt;br /&gt;Unreal and unspoken in the primal vernal eternal sunrise&lt;br /&gt;Here, near, above&lt;br /&gt;From tiny shoulder to weak elbow and skinned knees to parted thighs &lt;br /&gt;Day night and night day &lt;br /&gt;The vicious velvet curtain takes all and leaves the lips and sighs &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am trying to let the darkness out. I do kind of feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2055184118245460570?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2055184118245460570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2055184118245460570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2055184118245460570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2055184118245460570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/repurposing-office-supplies.html' title='Repurposing office supplies'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4594318486348274325</id><published>2009-11-12T14:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T14:39:13.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contents under pressure</title><content type='html'>The truth lives here. I mean, that was the premise of why I decided to join the nation of bloggers. Initially, this was where I was supposed to go when I just couldn't hold on to the thoughts about life-changing cells. Then it was where I came when I wanted to moan about the ridiculousness of the job search. Recently, this has been the forum for endless teachery rants. Today, it is, once again, a truth forum where I have come in order to release a little of the darkness that has been taking me over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who knows me, has seen that I often have a revolving nature. Never one to be really violent or extremely angry, my moods go from unrealistic joy to a kind of sadness that consumes. Last year, in the middle of one of those consuming times, I backed away from the world and did my best to go from day to day with no real goal. It was only when I thought that I might be surviving the winter that I finally forced myself back into the world, even though I never have gotten back to where I had once been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Memphis job happened, you know what happened. I was back on the land of sunshine and bubbles, and that is basically where I have been for a while. A sunny feeling has taken me over, and I haven't really known how to react to it. Happy is just something that I don't do very well in large doses. Sure, I laugh, I think I am funny, and people generally laugh more with me than at me, but I definitely feel more at home in a gloom than in the sun. It is depressing to admit these things, but I promised the truth here, and that is what I am delivering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As this job has become more routine than life-fulfilling destiny, I have begun to suffer the harsh sting of emotional investments that just don't pay off. Putting everything I am into my classes has proven to be the straw. I am the camel with the broken back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much like last year when I went into a dark place alone, I feel myself looking for the hide-out again. Not sleeping, not talking to friends, not thinking about much more than my obligations to my students, and walking roads best left unexplored have put me here. I don't want another time like last year. I don't want to be sad, and I don't want to be so... so... alone and lost. I feel like a child, and I don't want to feel like a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few nights ago, something in me snapped. I remember laughing at a song and then I remember being panicked at how late it was. I felt myself looking for something, but I wasn't home, and I am not sure what I was looking for, and I just wanted to lay my head down and think about where this thing was. I must have made an ass of myself because I left my friend's house and he hasn't talked to me since. I have no idea how I got home, and that is scary because home was so far away. The next morning I woke up, and for longer than is usual, I really thought it had all been a dream. Slowly, it came back to me. I had driven myself home from Memphis. I had held my head because I had been afraid of something. Walking down a sidewalk came back to me, walking to a door, needing my water bottle, I had the lid, why did I have the lid? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all here now. That night and the little I can bring back about it. Everything was fine, and then I panicked about the time, and that was when it happened. My little step away from reality is all I can think about. Why did it happen, and what am I supposed to do about it? Do I talk to my mother? Do I talk to a shrink? Do I close my eyes and wish it away? Do I recognize that I am a grown up and I have to take care of what I can take care of admit when it is out of my hands? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I called my insurance folks, and I am waiting on a call back from them. She said something about 7 to 10 days, but I am sure I will call back before that can happen. My friend won't talk to me, so I am leaving that one alone for now. I won't tell my mom, mostly because things like this tend to worry her at first and then just annoy her. I talked to my friend about it last night. It took me the whole ride from Memphis to Jackson to feel like I was coming back to the surface. The tears are at the corners of my eyes as I think about friendship and love and all the ways both are shown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Limbo, I guess, until I can take another step. I don't want to go back to the dark place, even though it was so nice. I can't sink lower. I have good friends, a family, and a life that I have always wanted. There isn't any reason why I should feel so sad. But I do feel sad. I have to find out why that is. I am the only one who can ask that question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still laugh, I can still smile, and I can still do what needs to be done. Right now, according to my friend, I need to just be careful and take care of my mental self. Ok. I guess I will, as soon as I figure out how to do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twice today, I have felt myself push feelings back. I knew I was doing it, and then my head hurt, and then I felt the tears form. I have been doing a lot of throat clearing and head shaking, but I am almost to the weekend. I have a meeting in Memphis on Friday, and then I can finally rest some this weekend. I hate feeling so fragile, but that is how I feel. Fragile when I have never thought of myself as that. Fragile people need someone to take care of them. No one has ever taken care of me, and there is no one to take care of me now. I have the friends who will stick by me, and I have the friends who I hope will see me through this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4594318486348274325?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4594318486348274325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4594318486348274325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4594318486348274325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4594318486348274325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/contents-under-pressure.html' title='Contents under pressure'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8348611414405589394</id><published>2009-11-07T16:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T16:59:53.078-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Signs of life from the trench</title><content type='html'>From amidst the fog of self-induced work, I am emerging to say that I am alive. I am doing as much as I can everyday to get myself out of this grading mess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am in grad school! I am actually planning on how little sleep I can manage in order to get the stack gone by Monday at 11:30. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no! I still need to plan a lesson.... or three. How did this happen? Oh yeah... I spent last weekend acting like it was a weekend. Sorry, my bad. I will try to remember that weekends are only weekends if there isn't work to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is fun to be had tonight, and tomorrow I am back at it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8348611414405589394?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8348611414405589394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8348611414405589394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8348611414405589394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8348611414405589394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/signs-of-life-from-trench.html' title='Signs of life from the trench'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8717936402632452578</id><published>2009-11-02T09:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T09:09:07.082-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Robbed</title><content type='html'>The weekend was a blast. As usual, I am the girl at the party without a camera or even a decent camera phone. Sorry. My costume was kinda awesome, though. Just so you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today begins a week of uncertainties, and I am trying to remain optimistic. The unplanned is often the the gateway to fun and new things. The time change reminds me that if it were last week, I would be done by now. Whatever that means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My identity was stolen on Friday by someone pretending to assist a hearing impaired me. I feel so... just... vulnerable and... robbed? When I told a few people about this, they started to talk about all the things I could have done to prevent it from happening. There is an analogy that works here, and it is in poor taste, but I will say this. I wasn't asking for it, I wasn't dressed like I wanted it, it happened, and now I am dealing with it, so will you please, just say "that sucks" and stop acting like I somehow brought this on myself. Gah, it just makes me want to cry and write it run-on sentences, and even I know that those tears and commas would be stupid. Grrrr, it just sucks. It wasn't my fault.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8717936402632452578?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8717936402632452578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8717936402632452578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8717936402632452578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8717936402632452578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/11/robbed.html' title='Robbed'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4398754581649524880</id><published>2009-10-29T08:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T08:34:09.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:(</title><content type='html'>I am happy for her, I really am. I think that her move will be wonderful and that her career will really be in a place where it has needed to be for some time now. But damn it, I am really going to miss her. I mean I am really going to MISS her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diane Sawyer is leaving GMA to replace Charlie Gibson when he retires from World News Tonight. George Stephanopolous is rumored to be be taking her place next to RR and CC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are all great things. I'm just gonna go pout some more...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4398754581649524880?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4398754581649524880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4398754581649524880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4398754581649524880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4398754581649524880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/blog-post.html' title=':('/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8320905080497728483</id><published>2009-10-28T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T07:58:36.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Say what you need to say</title><content type='html'>I know I have said this before...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where did Alex's hope go?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the first line of the funeral service for the guy who dies in The Big Chill. And, yes, today that is just kinda where I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a funeral for the death of critical thinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8320905080497728483?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8320905080497728483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8320905080497728483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8320905080497728483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8320905080497728483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/say-what-you-need-to-say.html' title='Say what you need to say'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6018208108577108217</id><published>2009-10-21T08:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T08:18:34.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Break broken</title><content type='html'>Wedding was really great. Time with friends was also really great. Having a weekend for the weekend was really, really great. It seems my vocab is in the drain and my only adjective clinging to the rim is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to school today and trying not to drag so much. Giving a quiz and a quiz and taking up a ruthlessly long homework assignment. Going to do my best to get a lot graded before I am on 40 again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shall see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping that this just-got-out-of-bed feeling doesn't last all day. I can see myself being unproductive at 2 when I need to be doing things and not getting behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's already the late side of October. I have things I am anticipating and things I am anxious about doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing an old friend on Friday has me thinking about what feels like a lifetime ago, but in reality it has only been a few years. Isn't it amazing how much we change and how much we stay the same? I guess it is good and bad, but for now I am just going to focus on the good and try my best to do what I don't want to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what this day will be like? I am going to put on my positive face and hope for the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6018208108577108217?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6018208108577108217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6018208108577108217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6018208108577108217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6018208108577108217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/break-broken.html' title='Break broken'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1324796066675585121</id><published>2009-10-15T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T17:40:42.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to the temple and we're gonna get married</title><content type='html'>Ahhh. This little part of the week is almost over. Got a jump start on the grading in hopes that the forthcoming Fall Break will actually resemble a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sweet friend Julie is getting married this Saturday to her long-time honey, Tony. I am so excited to go spend the weekend in Nashville with her and my other awesome pals, Sarah and Brian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to spending most of the weekend with good friends and just having fun and then having two days home before school starts back. I know Julie didn't plan anything around me, but, gosh, it really couldn't be any more ideal as far as my little schedule goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have to pack a few things, figure out what "cocktail casual" means, and maybe get a few things checked off my list before I head east on Friday. Have a big step to take on Friday at 10:30, and I am mostly just trying to focus on what needs to be done and hope that it won't end up messy. More about that when there is more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't ever been to a Jewish wedding, and I admit, I feel like I need to look up what the ceremony may be like. Julie and Tony are having a Jewish Inter-Faith wedding, so I guess it will be a little of both their religions. I feel certain that the whole weekend will be full of new and exciting experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope my car makes it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shalom, y'all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1324796066675585121?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1324796066675585121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1324796066675585121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1324796066675585121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1324796066675585121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/going-to-temple-and-were-gonna-get.html' title='Going to the temple and we&apos;re gonna get married'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7240765389034231542</id><published>2009-10-14T17:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T17:32:47.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revolving office door of inspiration</title><content type='html'>I really should change the name of this thing to something pertaining to teaching or students or something more relevant than a title with an homage to my last year's battle with the big C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving right along...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40 students made appointments with me to talk about an upcoming paper. All 40 students showed up, AND they were on time. Pause for reaction...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40 appointments beginning at 9:30 am and lasting until 6:00 pm. They came through the door every 15 minutes with only two exceptions of lapses in the schedule near the end of the day. I had a 30 minute break around 3:00 and then an unexpected 15 minute break at 4:30 because a student from yesterday had double-booked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I am just done with hearing my own voice. I do have little butterflies though. A lot of them left today with little words of thanks and oh-I-get-it that will get me through the last round of appointments tomorrow. I am not sure how many of them were serious and how many of them were just telling me what I want to hear, but I am going to hope that out of 40 students that at least a few of them were telling the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw 35 yesterday, and I had similar reactions from both them and myself. I couldn't write about it yesterday because on Tuesday I had forgotten to supplement my day with enough coffee. Today, yeah, I did NOT make that mistake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emailed a 6 page assignment for them to do over the break, planned tomorrow's very intense verb class, wrote the verb quiz they will be taking in a week, and I printed the directions for all the places I need to be this weekend. I just can't help it. I am feeling a little proud of the productivity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That quiz? It rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow? Who knows? I am just going to coast on today all the way down I-40.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good job, you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7240765389034231542?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7240765389034231542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7240765389034231542' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7240765389034231542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7240765389034231542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/revolving-office-door-of-inspiration.html' title='Revolving office door of inspiration'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7944072026928694573</id><published>2009-10-12T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T07:09:41.799-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The sun is shining somewhere</title><content type='html'>The pep talk didn't work as much as I needed. I was sick all weekend and fear that I may be handing back infected papers. Do I tell them? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student appts all week, and I am looking for the inspiration I need. 78 ppl in 3 and a half days. I can do this, and I think it will help them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the papers I read this weekend really have me worried. Is this really all these kids know? What keeps them from saying what is on their minds, or am I assuming too much (again)? It's frustrating and saddening and just a little deflating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is rainy and kind of off to a bumpy start. I will brew some coffee, grade until my first appt, and later I will teach the hell out of verb tense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today will be the day that one of them will get what hasn't been understood. I just know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7944072026928694573?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7944072026928694573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7944072026928694573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7944072026928694573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7944072026928694573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/sun-is-shining-somewhere.html' title='The sun is shining somewhere'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-3578266196509235142</id><published>2009-10-08T13:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T13:48:21.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pep talk</title><content type='html'>Alright young lady... You have been working pretty hard, but you know you aren't prioritizing very well lately. Friday is a day you are just going to give away because of the promise you made to Nathan. That still leaves Saturday and Sunday for you to get back on track. Have you ever been as behind on grading as you are now? It's time to just do what you need to do; quit thinking about how you know it will get done, and just start doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I get the feeling that your professionalism is slipping. It is so difficult to establish; why would you give it up just so they will laugh at your jokes? C'mon, kiddo, you know better than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have some really big steps to take. You have that thing next Friday that will very likely change the future in a way that you never anticipated. You are going to need to have your ducks in a row because you know this new thing is going to absolutely require concentration, committment, and a little of your soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get your game face back on, be the mom you need to be, be the teacher you have to be, and start attacking like you used to back when things were a little tougher. You are stronger now, and this next obstacle is tough, but you are made of stronger stuff. Walk the line, do everything according to the rules, and reclaim that go-get-em attitude that put you where you are now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No slacking, missy. Chin up and eyes open. You have work to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-3578266196509235142?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3578266196509235142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=3578266196509235142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3578266196509235142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3578266196509235142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/pep-talk.html' title='Pep talk'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8799178444825455317</id><published>2009-10-06T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T08:26:10.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A ponytail and a PhD? Where do I sign?</title><content type='html'>Giving a pop quiz today. Insert maniacal laughter here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good class yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still haven't finished grading the essays. Thinking tonight may be the night of inspiration on that front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kissed a guy that I have wanted to kiss for six years last night. I am g-i-d-d-y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. G-I-D-D-Y.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8799178444825455317?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8799178444825455317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8799178444825455317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8799178444825455317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8799178444825455317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/ponytail-and-phd-where-do-i-sign.html' title='A ponytail and a PhD? Where do I sign?'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5721557150408758459</id><published>2009-10-01T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T12:26:58.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>English does math</title><content type='html'>Hey you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thinking in numbers again. 78*3*2*3*2=2808. Can that actually be right?? Let me work this out in words...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 78 students. They each wrote 2 papers. Whew, I already see a problem in my math. Ok. One paper is about 3 pages long. The other paper is 2 pages long. Let me do the math again. 78*2*3*2=936? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No that can't be right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 78 students. Each student submitted 5 pages of written work. 78*5=390. Ah, that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I think. Surely I am not alone in this. This weekend I will probably read 2 novels. That is my usual weekend read. I start on Friday and somewhere before Sunday night I am able to work my way through 600-700 pages of fiction. So maybe this weekend I will just read one novel, and then I can read this other novel of 1010 papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no. I think my IQ just dropped at the thought of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet I left out the best part. They are all freshman papers about current affairs. I get all tingly just thinking about it. That is usually what comes right before the numbness takes over completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care of you,&lt;br /&gt;SB&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5721557150408758459?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5721557150408758459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5721557150408758459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5721557150408758459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5721557150408758459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/10/english-does-math.html' title='English does math'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1661473287251935892</id><published>2009-09-23T14:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T14:36:59.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Note to self</title><content type='html'>Hey,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 4:00 on a Wednesday, and I am at school. A student just left my office excited about the stuff he is going to be working on this semester. He promises to come to class and turn in all of his work. He says he knows that he is going to have to work hard, and he says that he is ready to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before he came in I was helping another girl with her article response. She wants to write a paper about education and teachers and money and stuff. She found an article about charter schools and hidden in a paragraph toward the end was this gem of a statement about how the charter school teachers get paid based on performance and responsibility unlike unionized teachers. I talked to her about what a statement like that is really saying. She smiled. I really hope she got it. I am anxious to read what she writes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The students in my second class make me want to cuss. I may have actually cussed in class today. One student is so frustrated right now, and I don't know how to help him. He won't write anything down, and when he does, he doesn't write down the important parts of what he was thinking. I kept asking him to write something down, and he would just start talking again. He was frustrated, I was frustrated, and I feel like he walked away with a little less faith in what he can do as a student. I don't know how to help him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look out at these freshman faces, and well, I just feel... I feel... so overwhelmed by the job that I know I have to do just to be able to reach a few of them. So many of them will never see graduation day. I want so badly for them to learn good habits, think critically, and take an active role in their own lives. They don't even realize that in their lives they aren't at the wheel and that somewhere along the line that was a choice they made. I am standing up there giving them all I have in me hoping that will look into themselves and see how much power they have, how much good they can do, and how much fuller life can be if they would just start thinking for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That one guy, the one that walked away so frustrated, he wants answers. He provides the blank, and he wants me to fill in that blank. He really doesn't understand that he has the answer and that I am trying to help him find it for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I love what I do. I work like I do because I believe that the world can be a better place if people will learn how to be the drivers in their own lives. That kind of lesson is impossible to learn in a short amount of time, and so all of this effort is a conscious, exhausting investment in an idea that I know I will never see the return on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not down and out, I am refueling. I thought I would just send you this little note so I can gather my thoughts before I get ready for round 3. Yay. Tonight is my night class. There are one or two bad eggs in there, but for the most part, well, I look forward to the renewal they give me before I head back to Jackson. They ask questions, respond thoughtfully, and, bless their hearts, they even laugh at my jokes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love what I do. I am proud of what I do. I feel like this is why I had to walk through some fires before I could sit at this desk. I am always going to look for the best way to reach them. I will do the hard work. I will do that without feeling like I need a reward or a pat on the back. I don't care how it sounds. I really mean it when I say I do it for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SB&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1661473287251935892?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1661473287251935892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1661473287251935892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1661473287251935892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1661473287251935892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/09/note-to-self.html' title='Note to self'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-3517623925891157302</id><published>2009-09-17T16:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T16:55:34.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Before I hit the road</title><content type='html'>It was a good week overall. There wasn't too much attitude, and I think I may have changed a few minds for the moment. Next week will be exciting, as we are beginning the actual meat and bones of what this semester is supposed to be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends are great, and I cherish, cherish, cherish long interstate catch-ups. Because I am back to being the transit me, I can appreciate how difficult maintaining friendships can be with so much distance between us all. Roads may bring us physically closer, but thanks to fiber optics and all those other brilliant things, we just aren't that far apart in spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend has nothing in it just yet. The week is almost down for the count. Mountains of papers are my view, and seas of grading are at my feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so grateful for all of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-3517623925891157302?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3517623925891157302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=3517623925891157302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3517623925891157302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3517623925891157302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/09/before-i-hit-road.html' title='Before I hit the road'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5574890358155907340</id><published>2009-09-13T08:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T08:39:07.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission statement</title><content type='html'>It's different now. After an hour long heart to heart with my friend Julie yesterday, I thought it might be time to get in touch with what this means here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I stood in front of a class I was a student. Sure, I liked to think that I was the real deal. I needed to believe that what I was doing was the same thing that the folks with the offices upstairs were doing. Now I am on my own, now I am accountable in a way that I never was before, now I am stepping into a new era.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The students mean more than they ever did. Without my own papers and classes to get in the way, I am compelled to channel that energy into my students and doing the best job that I can. I am armed with unique experiences, genuine interest, and a newfound selflessness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also emotionally attached to what I do in a way that I just wasn't free to be when I was a teaching student. I hurt when they just don't care about how well they aren't doing. I stress over doing whatever I can to be able to reach as many of them as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This first semester is going to be a study in how I can be emotionally tied to my job without being emotionally irresponsible. That is kinda how I am rolling these days. It is finally time to put my heart on my sleeve and still protect the hell out of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5574890358155907340?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5574890358155907340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5574890358155907340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5574890358155907340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5574890358155907340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/09/mission-statement.html' title='Mission statement'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5165491161845415562</id><published>2009-09-10T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T12:56:10.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zzzzzz.....</title><content type='html'>I am fighting it, because I know if I let it take me that it will not let me go. Sleep. I want it so bad, but if I lay my head down for just the briefest of seconds... Rip Van Winkle - peace out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5165491161845415562?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5165491161845415562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5165491161845415562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5165491161845415562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5165491161845415562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/09/zzzzzz.html' title='Zzzzzz.....'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5472650289152013608</id><published>2009-09-08T08:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T08:20:47.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not going to make much sense to you</title><content type='html'>Still getting situated and that seems unreal. Meh. Nothing is real. There, that helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stacks and stacks of stuff to do and getting them done just to spite myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is equal, the good, the bad, the ugly, we all have highs and lows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"all the flowers don't bloom at the same time." Is that what she said? I wish I could remember because I really liked it and liked that she liked it first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of coffee philosophy this weekend. Good for the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I say too much or not say enough that was meaningful? Second guessing the second guesses takes minutes away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5472650289152013608?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5472650289152013608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5472650289152013608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5472650289152013608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5472650289152013608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/09/not-going-to-make-much-sense-to-you.html' title='Not going to make much sense to you'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7049670663213281797</id><published>2009-09-03T15:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T15:57:55.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubbles and sunshine</title><content type='html'>:) It has been an outstanding week. Long weekend in front of me and warm memories behind me. These are the days!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7049670663213281797?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7049670663213281797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7049670663213281797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7049670663213281797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7049670663213281797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/09/bubbles-and-sunshine.html' title='Bubbles and sunshine'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-955673928032424753</id><published>2009-08-31T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T14:42:17.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First day</title><content type='html'>In the middle of the first long day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's awesome. That's about all I can say about this amazing thing that I am doing. I really appreciate all the kind words and thoughts of friends and family, and I just want to say that I will do my best to make you proud of my efforts here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-955673928032424753?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/955673928032424753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=955673928032424753' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/955673928032424753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/955673928032424753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/08/first-day.html' title='First day'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2659243536045947306</id><published>2009-08-27T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T14:43:58.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where am I?</title><content type='html'>Life moves. It ebbs, it flows, it rushes, and it crawls. From last Thursday to this Thursday, my life, well, my life has become. It is this new and wholly different thing that defies any nature of characterization that I know. Who I was and who I am are dependent upon one another, but that is where the resemblance ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I sit in an office belonging to a member of the University of Memphis faculty. It is my office.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2659243536045947306?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2659243536045947306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2659243536045947306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2659243536045947306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2659243536045947306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/08/where-am-i.html' title='Where am I?'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5744655796163613985</id><published>2009-05-10T09:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T09:28:29.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laterz</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a break from the net.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5744655796163613985?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5744655796163613985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5744655796163613985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5744655796163613985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5744655796163613985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/05/laterz.html' title='Laterz'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6150329598232134940</id><published>2009-05-05T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T06:29:55.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brace yourself</title><content type='html'>Had a goofy-good time with my mom last night - I know, shock and awe, right? Hold on to your socks - I had a good time with my mom at a jewelry party she hosted! I will pause while you lift your jaw from the floor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so yeah, that actually happened, and rather than analyze it, I am just going to be grateful and reserve this memory for the times when I am contemplating graver matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had to call security on a student yesterday. You know how I am always talking about getting my balls out of my pocket? Well, I so found them yesterday, and I actually think they weren't even in my pocket at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, though, between you and me, I was totally freaked out, and even today, I am still jittery about the whole ordeal. Long and the short, this guy totally went off in front of the class right before the exam was about to begin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was intense, and I felt like I had to protect the other students from this guy. I was in the act of doing just that when it occurred to me that I was putting myself in harm's way. After it was over, a few people offered to stay and walk me to my car. Awwww, I heart them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6150329598232134940?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6150329598232134940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6150329598232134940' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6150329598232134940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6150329598232134940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/05/brace-yourself.html' title='Brace yourself'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6835214310410880889</id><published>2009-05-04T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T07:06:33.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quickie</title><content type='html'>Giving exams this morning. Let the awesomeness begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6835214310410880889?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6835214310410880889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6835214310410880889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6835214310410880889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6835214310410880889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/05/quickie.html' title='Quickie'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7722475212676103372</id><published>2009-05-03T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T09:00:25.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Restart</title><content type='html'>Friends and enemies. Neither as close as they need to be. Smiling at the mediocre, knowing that isn't me. Not even guilty about the smugness of it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7722475212676103372?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7722475212676103372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7722475212676103372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7722475212676103372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7722475212676103372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/05/restart.html' title='Restart'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-3925383987000847758</id><published>2009-05-01T06:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T07:02:14.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning after</title><content type='html'>When people get drunk... maybe that's all I have to say. I just end up taking care of those who probably should just lay off from time to time, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is for suckers. Maybe not all marriages, maybe not all suckers, but yeah, I think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hangovers are not experiences to be shared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-3925383987000847758?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3925383987000847758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=3925383987000847758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3925383987000847758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3925383987000847758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/05/morning-after.html' title='Morning after'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5169200039271938692</id><published>2009-04-30T06:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T06:31:14.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly silly silly</title><content type='html'>Goodbye, April. Hello, May. I see you around the corner of this rainy month. Bring sunshine and better days and inspirational unexpectedness. Bring fresh starts and warm hearts and someone to liven up the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest easy, April. You did what you could. I am glad you are gone, and I am thankful for what you taught me. Thing is, you are a rough month from beginning to end, and I am glad to be done with you. It may sound harsh, it may sound cruel, but that's the way it bes sometimes, and that's all I got for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C'mon, May, warm up my cold heart and put a smile on my face. Teach me the secrets that you hold in your transitional realm. Take me on a ramble, challenge me a little, hold me a lot, and give me a feeling that isn't something I already got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tall order you think? It's all riding on you. May you have what no other month has, and that's my faith that you are the month to turn it all around. You can do it, I just know you can. And if you can't, then what's what? Another month you say? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Months I ain't got. Time I don't spare. May, you don't surprise me, you don't scare me none. You're just like all the other months, disappointing me before you're even here. Silly, May, with your three letter name, I guess it's on me again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not the month or the year or the shirt I wear. Doing what I need to do happens every day of every year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5169200039271938692?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5169200039271938692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5169200039271938692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5169200039271938692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5169200039271938692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/silly-silly-silly.html' title='Silly silly silly'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5899172921450716959</id><published>2009-04-29T11:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T11:35:31.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Republished</title><content type='html'>I wrote what follows during my last couple of months of grad school. It's.. well, it's amazing to be reminded by myself what I want for myself. Thanks, self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am in grad school, right? And one of those questions that keeps getting thrown around stems from the one that asks, "What does it mean?" only it is more like, "What does it not mean?" Because the one thing that I have learned is that there isn’t anything that is absolute This is the idea which ultimately reaches the point where meaning does not exist. It’s kind of the same as Plato’s, "I know that I know nothing" only it is on a bigger scale, the scale being everything that ever was only it never really was to begin with. Ya dig? It’s cool if you don’t. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep down, I think I am starting to realize that this is some archaic creation dreamed up by scholars who saw that there might be an end to knowledge and dreamed up this scheme as a way of creating job security. I can actually appreciate those hoodwinkers if that is the case. I swear, this is going somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I watched this movie tonight... Wait, don’t judge me yet, there will be a brief judgement session near the end, just stay with me for now and curb your desire to roll your eyes. If you have already rolled your eyes, fine, thanks for continuing to read...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this movie was one that has been on my "I need to watch" list for about as long as any of them, but I decided to get it and put off work for 2 and a half hours longer. Here is the question I have.. I will reveal the movie later, just staving off that imminent judgement... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we don’t have someone to tell our story, if we don’t tell our story, then were we ever really here at all? If we don’t share, if we don’t feel in the presence of others, then who are we when we aren’t?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is most of where those questions led me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I blog infrequently and at some point when I don’t have a pulse, these rambles will be one of the few remaining shadows of the time when I was around. I know, it sounds awful, but it’s just something for me to think as a member of the living. But here it is... What I put here is still not my story. There are a thousand things that I think and feel that at least nibble at what makes up my center. That is, provided, I even have a center. I never say these stories, I never write them, I never feel them in the presence of others. Is there something inside me that because it lacks the expression actually impedes me from ever existing in the world at all? Am I here in this moment or am I only what you think I am, thought I was, want me to be? I swear, I got all of this from a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am in grad school, and reality is something that is built and rebuilt and often just an imagination run amuck. So I watch this movie and I realize that I am a memory of myself to anyone who has ever known me or ever will know me. What do I do with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For every moment that I am alive, from this point until the next, I want to let others know that we are all in this together. Life, with its many layers both real and unreal, are only what they are for us and not me alone. Richness and color are one-sided and hollow without other eyes to give to me what we give to it, and I only want to know what you know so that I can know it, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not live in a valley. I will not live on a mountain. I will live in the place where your shadow touches mine and the sun touches us all. Seriously. That’s really what it is. Whatever it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie was Into the Wild. Commence with the judgement, you have been patient long enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5899172921450716959?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5899172921450716959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5899172921450716959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5899172921450716959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5899172921450716959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/republished.html' title='Republished'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2529598765902967818</id><published>2009-04-29T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T09:14:11.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last day of classes</title><content type='html'>When I saw an old face and didn't run, I knew that I was getting over this. When I felt a blush I seldom ever get, I knew there was a difference in me. Yesterday gave me a new way to look at today and tomorrow and some days ahead of those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to get caught up in things I cannot have, trying to learn from mistakes, and trying to settle the sounds I don't want to hear is what I do. Try, try, try, and now I know that I need to look for some success, too. I am so afraid of saying that I have done something well. I mean, I was taught that I am never free of some things, and somehow, I have translated that to mean that I am never able to achieve what I strive towards either. Can you make sense out of that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An albatross is an albatross, even when it isn't a failure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2529598765902967818?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2529598765902967818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2529598765902967818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2529598765902967818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2529598765902967818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/last-day-of-classes.html' title='Last day of classes'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5436382399309435664</id><published>2009-04-28T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T06:22:07.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes my imagery is ridiculous</title><content type='html'>Like an early summer sea, the anxiety is ebbing. Slept a lot yesterday. Work today, work tomorrow, and then maybe something different. Distance is the best feeling, and I need some more. I halfway know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People teach for one of two reasons: personal glory or world-changing. I know people who teach for both sides of the camp. The ones who teach for the first side, well, they suck. I wish those people would just realize that if you aren't in it for the others, then there really is no you. You can either teach to the faces that are there, or you can teach to the ocean that swells with empty applause for a goal you never reached. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My students said some amazing things yesterday. The gentle quietening of the screams has more to do with them than it has to do with the sleep I got. They talked and fought and listened and cared. I sat back and watched their faces, and I shut my eyes to the sea I never saw.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5436382399309435664?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5436382399309435664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5436382399309435664' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5436382399309435664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5436382399309435664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/sometimes-my-imagery-is-ridiculous.html' title='Sometimes my imagery is ridiculous'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1527094155424880811</id><published>2009-04-27T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T06:21:38.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Screamscreamscream</title><content type='html'>Remember when little Jenny says her prayer in Forest Gump? She asks God to make her a bird, so she can fly "fa fa away." Well, my southern accent is real, and my prayer is the same. Some kind of fear or anxiety has taken over me. Nothing feels very good this morning. I don't know what is happening. I only hope that no one can tell how I feel. How can I act like everything is fine when I feel so not fine on the inside? I can't tell if I want to cry or scream or run or sleep. I need a few hours that I don't have. I just got to get myself together before anyone realizes that there is a scream in my head that no one can hear but me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1527094155424880811?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1527094155424880811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1527094155424880811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1527094155424880811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1527094155424880811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/screamscreamscream.html' title='Screamscreamscream'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-229260869386186460</id><published>2009-04-24T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T09:13:52.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In my head</title><content type='html'>A million little thoughts are swimming in my head today, and none of them amount to much. The weather outside makes it difficult to think about more than rearranging my schedule so that sitting in the sun is all I have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Planting some flowers this weekend. Just a few around a tree is all I am planning. Can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creating memories of things that never happend and rewriting history with make believe scenarios. Is this something that all people do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-229260869386186460?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/229260869386186460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=229260869386186460' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/229260869386186460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/229260869386186460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/in-my-head.html' title='In my head'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8042775101678977691</id><published>2009-04-23T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T09:09:35.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One thing to say</title><content type='html'>THIS IS NOT MY JOB!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I got.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8042775101678977691?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8042775101678977691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8042775101678977691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8042775101678977691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8042775101678977691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-thing-to-say.html' title='One thing to say'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2623492763971312515</id><published>2009-04-22T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T06:29:11.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hug the planet</title><content type='html'>Resume Writing Workshop today! A month of clearing a path for an opportunity to shed a little light on just how to sell yourself on paper. I think I should take a seat and listen to myself if that is really what is on the bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading "a novel in cartoons" in order to "help" my son with a book report. Taking bets on how much I do and how much I actually help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music infects me more lately. I blame the sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanting to start a compost container at home, but I am FREAKED out by the chemical processes and mostly the WORMS. I throw away so many things that I know would make awesome compost. I am going to research it and see if maybe there is a way to do it without dying a little every time I lift the lid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's earth day. Hug the planet and reuse a container. Recycling isn't just separating the paper from the plastic. A lot of the time it means cutting back on just how much waste we generate. Using bread bags over is my latest foray into reusing. I also hang on to sandwich bags, to go containers, and any bag big enough to line the bathroom waste can. The result? I only have enough trash to generate a bag a week for the garbage man. Trying to get it down to a bag every two weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2623492763971312515?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2623492763971312515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2623492763971312515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2623492763971312515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2623492763971312515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/hug-planet.html' title='Hug the planet'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1652194487707183302</id><published>2009-04-21T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T06:39:10.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The best part of waking up...</title><content type='html'>Tired all the way down this morning. Coffee can't reach the places that need reviving. Slept with the iPod on last night, dreamed some amazing things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what it is like to feel ready only you aren't really sure what you are ready for? I mean, maybe it's summer, or the end of the semester, or some other thing lurking this time of the year, but I just can't shake the feeling that a change is coming and that everything has sort of been bringing me to this point. That someday, someday very soon everything will make sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it true that a compass with spin out of control at true north? Why does the idea of that happening make me absolutely giddy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a dog. I want to name him Wrigley.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1652194487707183302?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1652194487707183302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1652194487707183302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1652194487707183302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1652194487707183302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/best-part-of-waking-up.html' title='The best part of waking up...'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8687526290113701857</id><published>2009-04-20T16:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T16:37:45.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Punch Brothers</title><content type='html'>Sometimes music makes you sit down and listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been meaning to put &lt;a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=92748207"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; somewhere for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8687526290113701857?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8687526290113701857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8687526290113701857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8687526290113701857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8687526290113701857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/punch-brothers.html' title='Punch Brothers'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8526713408835317769</id><published>2009-04-20T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T06:21:30.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunny days (cue the yellow bird)</title><content type='html'>Busy week ahead, and I think they all may be for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew Karate and ESL secrets. Both would help me in my role as an educator these last days of the semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to be a beautiful week. Baseball tonight, 80 degrees by the weekend. Thinking of going to games all weekend. Hoping there are some day games, maybe a Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading for fun is rocking my world. I heard some guy say that saying things like "rock my world" is lame. Obviously this guy has a) never had his world rocked b) never rocked the world of another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of hoped that turning 30 meant the end of drunken booty calls. Alas, the text message renders this impossible. Sadder still, I appreciate that my name is still among the 3 am list for a lost few. Seriously though, even if I like it, drunk texting is still very lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say lame a lot. Let me work on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8526713408835317769?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8526713408835317769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8526713408835317769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8526713408835317769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8526713408835317769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/sunny-days-cue-yellow-bird.html' title='Sunny days (cue the yellow bird)'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6646584597888925823</id><published>2009-04-18T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T07:46:54.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rubber tantrum</title><content type='html'>Fell asleep with every light in the house still bright and warm. Woke up at 4 just knowing I was late for something. Haven't shaken that feeling yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working on a Saturday. I remember when that was not an unexpected thing. Grateful for the unexpectedness of a Saturday session in the WC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liking my boss, and thinking she likes me, and still there is indecision in the air... Know that is has to be false.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preparing for a presentation/workshop on Wednesday. Hoping for good news about 2 jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the other thing? Well... there are only 2 weeks of school left, and that is my solace for now. Can you dig that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running from shadows at noon is easy. Running from shadows at 5 is futile. Thinking this way, without logic screaming at me, is keeping me running from things, not admitting that I am the one running away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The symmetry of silence and noise isn't comforting or reassuring. It's a reminder that when one is present, the other is lurking, threatening to spoil the fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6646584597888925823?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6646584597888925823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6646584597888925823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6646584597888925823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6646584597888925823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/rubber-tantrum.html' title='Rubber tantrum'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6349036031643957781</id><published>2009-04-17T06:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T07:09:42.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanging out to dry</title><content type='html'>Bureaucracy is the other white meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needing the kind of strength that comes after years and not months of experience in education. Wishing I still had a basement full of TAs to help me get my balls out of my pocket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From last year to this year... I don't even recognize me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the opening line of the preacher in "The Big Chill"? He says (in that way that overly acted southern preachers say things), "Where did Alex's hope go?". I keep hearing that voice in my head as I stare into the abyss of red tape and FERPA forms that are assuredly in my future for the next few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who knows me, knows that I want to change the world through education... Well, you scoffers, you eye-rollers, you doubters, and you nay sayers. It will comfort you to know that I have hit the wall with how much I can do. Now I am reaching deeper into my motivation than I ever thought I would, and I am taking a seat to learn more about the system that has to be beaten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6349036031643957781?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6349036031643957781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6349036031643957781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6349036031643957781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6349036031643957781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/hanging-out-to-dry.html' title='Hanging out to dry'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6931982522544041399</id><published>2009-04-16T06:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T07:18:27.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What color is real?</title><content type='html'>Today is my sister's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was having some crazy thoughts last night, and then I had a crazy dream. Here are the thoughts not the dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul was red, bloody, visceral, alive. It pumped ideas, hope, movement, calamity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I think my soul was blue. It was quiet, reserved, a sponge soaking up the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It grew and then it became green. It looked, it saw, it wanted other things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got sticky and ugly and didn't shake off the muck. It tried to clean the junk, but the sludge had gone too deep. The grime was inside making my soul dingy and gray. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So against the rocks it has landed. In the water it has been washed. Through painful slashes and wrenching agony, my soul has been ripped and torn open. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dirt is gone. And so is the color.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6931982522544041399?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6931982522544041399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6931982522544041399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6931982522544041399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6931982522544041399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-color-is-real.html' title='What color is real?'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7114630276081737340</id><published>2009-04-15T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T06:47:34.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pebbles</title><content type='html'>We are living in times the likes of which seem unfathomable. Terrorists and pirates are real things existing outside the realms of theory and fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you cry like a child every time you watch clips of that woman's singing performance. And then when she tries to walk from the stage... And then when the skinny, perfect judge apologizes... And then when Simon says nice things... And then when they show the clips of her talking about her cat... Yeah, I get really choked up. No joke. Ugly people everywhere are having the same reaction. Someone from our team hit a home run. It's like The Bad News Bears: British TV Style!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7114630276081737340?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7114630276081737340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7114630276081737340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7114630276081737340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7114630276081737340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/pebbles.html' title='Pebbles'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-3764612924859543125</id><published>2009-04-14T06:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T06:40:18.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming of age</title><content type='html'>Last evening while walking in the woods with Nathan, the over-protective in me took over, and I would not let Nathan go exploring solo down a muddy ditch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan says, "Mom! I am a man, and men can go exploring alone or at least with a camera crew."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night after DWtS, I asked Nathan if he loved me the most. (This is a cruel game I play where I try to get Nathan to tell me that he loves me more than his grandparents.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan says, "I love you with a third of my body, Grandmama with a third of my body, and Nana with a third of my body." Then he farted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan says, "Not that part of my body."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two eyes, two hands&lt;br /&gt;Our lives, our hearts&lt;br /&gt;I love you, Nathan&lt;br /&gt;Even the farts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-3764612924859543125?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3764612924859543125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=3764612924859543125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3764612924859543125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/3764612924859543125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/coming-of-age.html' title='Coming of age'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4669209820205270486</id><published>2009-04-13T06:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T06:22:19.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>System error</title><content type='html'>I meant to watch this show on how not to procrastinate, but I put it off. Ha. Funnier fact is that this is truer than true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stack is dwindling. Praise be to Allah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet I just put myself on the terrorist watch list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spilled coffee on my leg, stuck my hair in a bun, and cooked breakfast burritos that neither of us really wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those things we can't control? Yeah, I keep telling myself they are that way for a reason. Kind of like those system files on my computer that my computer won't let me open. Yeah, JUST like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4669209820205270486?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4669209820205270486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4669209820205270486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4669209820205270486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4669209820205270486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/system-error.html' title='System error'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2616569887746913782</id><published>2009-04-11T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T21:08:17.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The uninvited</title><content type='html'>It's late and somewhere Jacob Dylan is singing about 6th avenues and lines drawn. From the booth where I feel like I now live, I am looking over what passes for student essays. I need to recalibrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretending like I am somewhere other than a one-horse town seems like a pointless waste of energy. Can I get the rest of this stack done tomorrow? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I applied for a summer job at Kroger. It has come to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday 3 people offered (without being asked) to write letters of recommendation for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am holding out for the job at the fuel center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couldn't stop crying yesterday. Watched myself in the mirror, telling myself how stupid I looked. When will this well be tapped dry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't hard to smile, but it is difficult to mean it. Will I ever know why I am this way? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't invited to another work party. I wouldn't have invited me either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2616569887746913782?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2616569887746913782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2616569887746913782' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2616569887746913782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2616569887746913782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/uninvited.html' title='The uninvited'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1803135816906823938</id><published>2009-04-10T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T07:02:32.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend eve</title><content type='html'>Good night with a friend last night. Haven't been doing that much and trying to act like it isn't something that I miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Friday, but all of the other days have been good as well. I don't want Friday to go feeling all special or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched an awful couple yesterday. It was the woman not the man who carried the Awful Torch. Seeing them made me rethink a lot of things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meetings and papers and doing what hasn't been done litter the desk of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm living in yesterday's tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;(Jerry said that.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1803135816906823938?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1803135816906823938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1803135816906823938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1803135816906823938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1803135816906823938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/weekend-eve.html' title='Weekend eve'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8048347951999661766</id><published>2009-04-09T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T06:43:32.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Philip Glass stole my heart last night</title><content type='html'>Really awesome thing happened yesterday. I am waiting to see how it plays out before I offer the story in whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stacks of papers loom before me. I am threatening to burn them. By accident of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been feeling like it's Friday since about Tuesday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to explain this... I get anxious when I start to feel good about things. Lately, I am very anxious. That is the best I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like when people get to the point, and I wish I knew more people who just say what needs to be said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under over sideways and in&lt;br /&gt;This is how my day will begin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8048347951999661766?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/episodes/philip-glass/glass-a-portrait-of-philip-glass-in-twelve-parts/1125/' title='Philip Glass stole my heart last night'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8048347951999661766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8048347951999661766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8048347951999661766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8048347951999661766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/philip-glass-stole-my-heart-last-night.html' title='Philip Glass stole my heart last night'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6426077375269810808</id><published>2009-04-08T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T07:05:27.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Esoteric ramblings</title><content type='html'>Had a flash of brilliance and now I know what I need to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched people who don't get each other try to have a conversation. It was painful. And sort of comforting... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experiencing a sense of understanding looming in the chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a downer, but certainly a hopeful pessimist. Hey, I think that is as close to real as you can get in a world like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If love hurts so much... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop me if you've heard this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you call a drummer without a girlfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;homeless&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6426077375269810808?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6426077375269810808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6426077375269810808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6426077375269810808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6426077375269810808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/esoteric-ramblings.html' title='Esoteric ramblings'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2993680272278440620</id><published>2009-04-07T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T06:29:00.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustration</title><content type='html'>Grrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a student who writes what his mother tells him to write. Now that I can prove it with 90% accuracy... the dept won't back me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will this student learn that he can successfully cheat his way through life? Will he ever actually learn the skills necessary for written communication? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How am I supposed to grade this paper knowing that his mother wrote the thing? How am I supposed to hand it back to him with notes that I know he won't react to because he is just going to hand it over to his mother for her approval?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When there are so many students who are honestly giving their best effort, is it in my best interest to just turn a blind eye to him and focus on the students who are actually giving me their own work? If I didn't care, then that is what I would do. I do care... I wish it didn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I am going to dig my own grave on this one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2993680272278440620?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2993680272278440620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2993680272278440620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2993680272278440620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2993680272278440620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/frustration.html' title='Frustration'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4409319405128653154</id><published>2009-04-06T06:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T06:35:52.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Personal Velocity</title><content type='html'>Weekend was super-soaked with me-time. It was magnificent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need saving from myself about 90% of the time. That thing I did when I changed the names in my phone... Wow... It continues to amaze me how much that has changed my life. That's all I have to say about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a really bad dream last night. I haven't had one of those in a very long time, and I don't want to have another one for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still doing irresponsible things and tempting fate to catch me... Hoping that putting these thoughts to words will help me be better at not being so bad. Cryptic is as cryptic does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched a good movie that I own and seldom watch. Everyone moves at his or her own speed. I think I stayed in 5th gear for too long, and now that my life is comfortably coasting in about 3rd, I seem to desire the pace of a life once lived too quickly. Memories mask how painful it was to watch the world flying by me. I am now in the scenes I could never really see and notice that the pace of others is now the blur.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4409319405128653154?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4409319405128653154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4409319405128653154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4409319405128653154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4409319405128653154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/personal-velocity.html' title='Personal Velocity'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-305258413872987940</id><published>2009-04-03T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T07:06:03.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forecast</title><content type='html'>Drama with a student and his MOTHER yesterday. Um, I don't teach high school...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read a really good story written by a friend of mine. I am reminded that I also wanted to be a writer once. What am I waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michelle Obama is awesome, don't get me wrong... Is she that awesome?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No idea what this weekend will hold. Ready for a little life and a clean house and a quiet thought or two. Know what I mean? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope tomorrow is pretty enough to get some sun on my face before the winter weather promised to us early in the week smacks me back indoors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I really blogging about the weather?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop sleeping on the couch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-305258413872987940?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/305258413872987940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=305258413872987940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/305258413872987940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/305258413872987940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/forecast.html' title='Forecast'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7242831711613613461</id><published>2009-04-02T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T06:53:14.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Boo List</title><content type='html'>Filled out my 'roo stuff today. That looks like a done deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Filled out 3 job apps last night. That looks like a waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids coming by all day today. Hope that makes the time fly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired of defending my love of Tiger basketball to people who just aren't "fans" like I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apologizing for the gripe list that is this Thursday entry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7242831711613613461?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7242831711613613461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7242831711613613461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7242831711613613461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7242831711613613461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/to-boo-list.html' title='To Boo List'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-582435247963923179</id><published>2009-04-01T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T06:35:33.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue blogger</title><content type='html'>My father would have been 57 today. When he was my age, he only had 5 more years to live. Life is so short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coach Cal left us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marvin Gaye was shot and killed by his father on this date in 1984. I was 5, and I remember hearing his name on the news or TV or something. That's about all. It must suck to look down the barrel of a gun that your father is holding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I shouldn't miss my dad as much as I do. I feel like I shouldn't feel as sad as I do when I think about how he is not here and how I don't have that many memories of when he was here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will go to where he is buried today. I will lay on his grave. I will pretend that he is there. I will talk to him. Out loud. That is what I do on his birthday. Is that sick? Is that what people do? I wish he hadn't been born on April Fool's. I think this day would be a fun one to celebrate and play around with. I don't even try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-582435247963923179?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/582435247963923179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=582435247963923179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/582435247963923179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/582435247963923179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/04/blue-blogger.html' title='Blue blogger'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-614837127245797480</id><published>2009-03-31T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T12:57:05.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time keeps on slipping into the future</title><content type='html'>This has already been such a busy and packed day. My co-workers are playing Uno... They got all pissy when I asked them to be quiet while I was listening to a student read a paper. What is that about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papers to grade, things to do tonight, hoping for coffee with a friend and a conversation with another one that is so long overdue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I have another hour? Can I have maybe 10 more minutes on a few hours of this day? I think this is an excellent plan!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-614837127245797480?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/614837127245797480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=614837127245797480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/614837127245797480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/614837127245797480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/time-keeps-on-slipping-into-future.html' title='Time keeps on slipping into the future'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2071294999485880197</id><published>2009-03-30T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T06:45:05.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOMES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SdDMYyEL59I/AAAAAAAAAFo/nA_B9F1hooI/s1600-h/0327091817a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SdDMYyEL59I/AAAAAAAAAFo/nA_B9F1hooI/s320/0327091817a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318975886052812754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SdDMYjC0Q6I/AAAAAAAAAFg/2AOGMov2PDk/s1600-h/0327091815a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SdDMYjC0Q6I/AAAAAAAAAFg/2AOGMov2PDk/s320/0327091815a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318975882020537250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to make this as to the point as possible:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I learned about my mom:&lt;br /&gt;1) She thinks graffiti is beautiful, and I think that is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;2) She hated my former step-father as much as I did.&lt;br /&gt;3) She usually has what she thinks is best in mind.&lt;br /&gt;4) She has tact and grace under pressure and in the presence of rude relatives.&lt;br /&gt;5) She loves with all her heart even when her heart is breaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister in law was rude to us. The baby is so precious. I don't want to go back to Toledo for a very long time. My brother and his wife don't hug my son, and I don't know why. Making the first step means that sometimes you have to make the second and third steps as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy week ahead of me. Crazy week behind me. People are doing well; people are how they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am finally going to get cable. More about that later. I know, apocalypse pending...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2071294999485880197?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2071294999485880197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2071294999485880197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2071294999485880197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2071294999485880197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/homes.html' title='HOMES'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SdDMYyEL59I/AAAAAAAAAFo/nA_B9F1hooI/s72-c/0327091817a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8600641596470820764</id><published>2009-03-25T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T08:49:25.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Running on empty</title><content type='html'>Kids these days... fill in the rest. Feeling like an adult today, if only by comparison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading and not writing, planning and not packing. More grading to do that ever and not an ounce of desire or motivation to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to get the lead out. And the Led out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8600641596470820764?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8600641596470820764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8600641596470820764' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8600641596470820764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8600641596470820764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/running-on-empty.html' title='Running on empty'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6305326654064089910</id><published>2009-03-24T06:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T06:06:37.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chop Suey</title><content type='html'>Way too many student conferences today. Think they will all actually show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laundry and packing to do. Need to check the Toledo weather situation. Tornadoes or hard winds heading to Tennessee tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking about writing. I am inspired by TV shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm living in yesterday's tomorrow. Jerry said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pandora and a fancy bottle of water are getting me through the initial hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6305326654064089910?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6305326654064089910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6305326654064089910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6305326654064089910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6305326654064089910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/chop-suey.html' title='Chop Suey'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-4353218593032125401</id><published>2009-03-23T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T06:54:01.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Monday</title><content type='html'>Beginning a marathon week. Intense student conferences, squeezing 5 days into 3, and crafting an excuse to get out of a meeting are all on the bill. That's just the plans from Monday to Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to see my brother and his family on Wednesday. Traveling with mom and kid which should be entertaining. Staying in a house with 4 kids, 4 adults, 1 bathroom, and a crazy dog... Mayhem is too tame a word!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-4353218593032125401?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4353218593032125401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=4353218593032125401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4353218593032125401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/4353218593032125401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/monday-monday.html' title='Monday, Monday'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6214714882787942455</id><published>2009-03-21T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T09:25:40.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A person by any other name</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/ScUU6m-Dx0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Y9LNugW2joA/s1600-h/Photo+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/ScUU6m-Dx0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Y9LNugW2joA/s320/Photo+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315677932306548546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chopped 8 inches off my hair. No one will notice. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't do what I need to do because I am distracted by nothing that is all that important. Really want hot wings from Central and halfway decided to go there until I talked myself down from a 2 hour trip for BBQ. Sane people do not have these struggles, I am convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting on emails and phone calls and winning scores and hope wrapped in unexpected packages. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changed the names in my contact list so that I won't answer calls from people that aren't good for me. It worked yesterday, and that is good news for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6214714882787942455?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6214714882787942455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6214714882787942455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6214714882787942455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6214714882787942455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/person-by-any-other-name.html' title='A person by any other name'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/ScUU6m-Dx0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Y9LNugW2joA/s72-c/Photo+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1066982172944776390</id><published>2009-03-20T07:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T07:19:06.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a dog's life</title><content type='html'>I have really been pondering this thing for the last 8 hours or so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We (only the people who do what I am about to say) say that men are dogs. This sometimes means that men are self-absorbed, flea-infested, and servants to their baser desires. Dogs, while they are often these things, are really the most wonderful creatures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this dog I have the pleasure of knowing. He is the awesomest dog on the planet. Sure, I've only hung out with him once or twice, but each time I was impressed by this dog. It may be a credit to the guy he with whom he shares a bed, and I am not dismissing that as a possibility at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am going to try to lessen my use of the man is dog idea. I do this out of respect for dogs like the one I get to see from time to time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1066982172944776390?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1066982172944776390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1066982172944776390' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1066982172944776390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1066982172944776390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-dogs-life.html' title='It&apos;s a dog&apos;s life'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-585786966996870839</id><published>2009-03-19T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T13:03:04.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking up</title><content type='html'>Whew! Memphis squeaked it out in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Felt good to be a peon with a purpose today. Met with a lady who isn't very good at her job, and without any kind of status, I was free to think that about her and not feel bad about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to a trip north. Surprised to be thinking that after so many years of being the sibling to a person who denied my existence. Swallowing those feelings and just going with it. After the successful Christmas serving of crow, I think this trip may offer some slightly sweeter fare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-585786966996870839?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/585786966996870839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=585786966996870839' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/585786966996870839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/585786966996870839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/looking-up.html' title='Looking up'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1264268466225107785</id><published>2009-03-18T06:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T06:48:21.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sewing lessons</title><content type='html'>Stepped on some toes yesterday. After I went from office to office on campus asking people for input and support for this resume thing, a call came into the center where I work informing the person over me that the resume idea was really relegated to the placement services people. That info only means that now we are obligated to involve their office with our efforts. Cool. Here's the thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened to being in this for the students? When did it matter whose toes got in the way when we are all here to serve the community at large? What is the most tactful way to bring this up or should it just be a couched idea for the time being? Is this just water to the fire I am trying to spread about community involvement and changing the world one person at a time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am trying to turn my anger into positive energy and use it to inspire and not to lash out at those who cannot see the vital role they play in the bigger picture. We are all part of a social fabric that is worn and weathered at some of the most important seams. Unless we sew like there is no tomorrow, there won't be one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1264268466225107785?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1264268466225107785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1264268466225107785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1264268466225107785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1264268466225107785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/sewing-lessons.html' title='Sewing lessons'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6636397364839910103</id><published>2009-03-17T14:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T14:47:04.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tea Party</title><content type='html'>This nice lady I tutor brought me some real, authentic hot mixture. I really don't think I can call it a sauce. It is kind of clear and it has chopped Chinese peppers floating in it. She made homemade dumplings and brought oolong tea to go with it. We had our little tea party and looked over her paper for about an hour. Right now, as I sit here watching the clock, my stomach is starting to burn from the inside out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6636397364839910103?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6636397364839910103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6636397364839910103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6636397364839910103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6636397364839910103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/tea-party.html' title='Tea Party'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7891754331392660461</id><published>2009-03-17T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T08:29:44.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paper trail</title><content type='html'>New class went better than I expected. Yay for victories!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working on this project, and I am throwing myself into it just to keep myself from going crazy at work. I work with some straight up b*tches. Seriously. I am kind of anticipating sabotage at any moment. Part of why I am going at this project with such intensity is because I don't want anyone to ever be able to say that I am not good at my job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a world where employment is fleeting and if it doesn't happen in paper then it doesn't happen, I am doing my best to be an amazing person. On Paper. Dig that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7891754331392660461?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7891754331392660461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7891754331392660461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7891754331392660461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7891754331392660461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/paper-trail.html' title='Paper trail'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-955123347424410108</id><published>2009-03-16T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:51:54.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Media Res</title><content type='html'>Beginning the teaching of a new class and trying not to freak out. There is a lot of departmental involvement with how this particular class is taught, and I am being asked to teach an expedited version. Today should be simple enough, I mean as classes go, the first one is just expectations and syllabus. I am more anxious about every day from Wednesday until the end of the semester. My main focus is putting the other class I teach on cruise-control for a few weeks so I can look at this other one under a microscope. I think that is how real teachers do it. When will I start to feel like a real teacher?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-955123347424410108?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/955123347424410108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=955123347424410108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/955123347424410108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/955123347424410108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/in-media-res.html' title='In Media Res'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7048435229903195736</id><published>2009-03-14T13:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T13:18:49.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Irony</title><content type='html'>You know that feeling you get when you just know someone is watching you? When it's really strong and you try to deny it, maybe you do what many others do. You call it paranoia and try to ignore it. Somedays it's a twitch and somedays it's a painful tug. Lately, it's just been this annoying reminder that I am not as alone as I am trying to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't a girl just elect to withdraw?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess she can't if she insists on recording her thoughts in a public arena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also doesn't help when she resorts to the third person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caesar did that and his friends killed him. Holy shit! Now that is ironic!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7048435229903195736?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7048435229903195736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7048435229903195736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7048435229903195736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7048435229903195736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/irony.html' title='Irony'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2046500505251548341</id><published>2009-03-12T08:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T08:18:06.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It hurts me when people talk about me and laugh about my life.</title><content type='html'>It's what people do, I suppose. We sit in circles, say nice things, and then, one day, the circle breaks, and all the good things gush from the circle as if they were never there. I am only one person, and I am not enough of a person to really be a circle. I'm broken and gushing and not apologizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear what you say. I imagine it, I ponder it, I wish I wasn't someone you still laughed at so much. I don't talk about you. Please stop. I am begging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2046500505251548341?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2046500505251548341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2046500505251548341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2046500505251548341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2046500505251548341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-hurts-me-when-people-talk-about-me.html' title='It hurts me when people talk about me and laugh about my life.'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-2899137109261657302</id><published>2009-03-06T07:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T07:30:31.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Ten (U2 has been on Dave all week)</title><content type='html'>Last night I was reminded of the things that I like. I thought it might be fun to write them down somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I like college campuses (sp?) at night. There is something magical about darkened concrete pathways and libraries that are fully lit at 9 pm.&lt;br /&gt;2. I like good conversations with people that I didn't really know in high school. I get to be reminded that some people really do grow up, and they grow up to be nicer adults.&lt;br /&gt;3. I like finding things I wrote when I was less than 20. I like that some things have stayed the same, and I like that some things are totally different. Both are great.&lt;br /&gt;4. I like people who say nice things about people they know and people they don't know. I want to be one of those people.&lt;br /&gt;5. I like friends who know exactly when to call. ESP comes from years of good friendships and minutes of being friends with people you are just destined to know. I like friends who continue to love me even when I don't answer.&lt;br /&gt;6. I like my reality even if it is not shared. This is deep; let's ponder it.&lt;br /&gt;7. I like that there are people who get me and people who don't. The ones who get me remind me that I am not alone, and the ones who don't get me remind me that i am not alone.&lt;br /&gt;8. I like that I am not writing this for anyone.&lt;br /&gt;9. I like days when it rains and it is sunny. Seeing the cycle of clouds and rain and sun and breezes kind of makes me wonder what it was like when there weren't so many freaking people everywhere. Like maybe the sun and the breeze had coffee together and said nice things about the clouds.&lt;br /&gt;10. I like the librarian at the school where I work. He is as enraged about the MLA changes as I am, and we get to talk about it without feeling self-conscious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave only does 10, so I guess I will stop there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-2899137109261657302?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2899137109261657302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=2899137109261657302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2899137109261657302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/2899137109261657302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/top-ten-u2-has-been-on-dave-all-week.html' title='Top Ten (U2 has been on Dave all week)'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1968475307419176478</id><published>2009-03-03T12:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T12:36:13.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog-by (kinda like a drive-by, get it?)</title><content type='html'>This weekend was outstanding. Basketball, music, friends, bars, and snow were all on the ticket. None of it was ever set in stone, and all of it happened. How cool is that? Well, I think it is pretty awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1968475307419176478?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1968475307419176478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1968475307419176478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1968475307419176478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1968475307419176478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-by-kinda-like-drive-by-get-it.html' title='Blog-by (kinda like a drive-by, get it?)'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1218567630788058607</id><published>2009-02-27T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T11:16:35.147-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring thaw?</title><content type='html'>I am looking forward to Spring Break like I am one of them (read: my students). I am looking forward to Spring like I am a hibernating bear. Hopefully, this attitude will shed itself and release me from the grump I have become lately. I am happy to report that something in me is thawing, and if I could just locate the source of the warmth, I feel like I could maybe speed up the process. Tiger basketball is helping, I can say that for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1218567630788058607?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1218567630788058607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1218567630788058607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1218567630788058607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1218567630788058607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/02/spring-thaw.html' title='Spring thaw?'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-8741032992090486448</id><published>2009-02-23T08:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T08:23:00.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Couched</title><content type='html'>This band I like has a song called "seasonal funk." Maybe that is what it is. Maybe I am that lady that is so perpetually unhappy that I feel like I can't be around the happy people for fear that I will infect them with this sickness. My saner, logical self says I should just pull my head out of my ass. Why can't I just do that? Why do the smallest things send me into some spiral of sadness? This weekend I couldn't get a couch to fit into my door, and for that I cried half the day. I hate one of my jobs so much that I am sitting here with headphones on wishing for the clock to move just a little bit faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They (the people I work with) think I don't know how much they hate me. I know they do, it really isn't all that hard to figure out. This morning my boss pulled aside one of her friends so they could talk about the party I wasn't invited to last night. Last week a tiny thing I said offended someone I work with to the point that she is threatening (via facebook...) to punch me in the face. I apologized as soon as I said it. It doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so here, in the sanctity of a blog that no one reads, I will make my case against her at least. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss at the WC has this habit of starting each meeting with a lateral thinking exercise. A group of people try to figure out the explanation for an odd circumstance by asking questions that are "out of the box." Well, on one particular day, this line of questioning pursued by my co-workers resulted in an explanation that was more or less the tragic way that my father had died. A room full of people laughed and joked about the thing that still causes me to cry like a child. My boss apologized as soon as she realized what she had done. I sucked it up and moved on. I haven't brought it up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just it. It's what adults do. I am just not wrong about this. Not this time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can't be a child and sulk about a party I wasn't invited to. I can't be a child even though it's what I want to do more than anything. I can't be a child because there are already too many children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can do is wait for the funk to pass. I can look for the things that make me strong. I can do what I know gives me joy. I can hope for a day when sunshine warms my face and my soul. I can look for someone to buy the couch that won't fit through my door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-8741032992090486448?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8741032992090486448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=8741032992090486448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8741032992090486448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/8741032992090486448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/02/couched.html' title='Couched'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5422543417285753128</id><published>2009-01-16T12:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T12:36:00.529-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to the trenches</title><content type='html'>I haven't written in here in so long... but there is only one person I know who reads this (hello, Sarah). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School started back today, and well, this funny thing happened on the way to the forum... Ha, I couldn't help myself. Class went really well, or, well maybe they just didn't totally bomb, whatever. I hadn't really planned what I was going to say, and I knew I was going to wing it for the most part. Sarah says this is what experienced teachers do. I know I am not experienced, but maybe I am just not a newbie anymore. Hey, that works for me. Sorta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like all the new is dripping out of teaching and what is left over resembles one of those wine skins that I have never actually seen but works well for this metaphor (simile?). Meh, I got some cool news today, and once it is on paper (and therefore real) I will alert my blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarah is going to be here tonight. There will be sushi and talk and all will be wonderful. Whatever it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5422543417285753128?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5422543417285753128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5422543417285753128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5422543417285753128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5422543417285753128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2009/01/back-to-trenches.html' title='Back to the trenches'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-29098404758217158</id><published>2008-12-21T09:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T09:25:52.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My friend</title><content type='html'>Stayed with Sarah in her apt just outside Nashville last night. This morning (well, it's after 11, so morning-ish) I am sitting at her comp, drinking her coffee, and waiting for her to get out of bed. I am not going to wake her up, but I may just bang on these keys a little louder! Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were going and doing last night she and I both had this funny reaction to the night. I mean, here we are, finally in the same place after literally months apart, and instead of painting the town and all that, we were just happy to eat a delicious meal and call it a night. Ha! I know, I am 40 before I am even 30! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarah gives awful directions. Yes, Sarah, you do. I mean, the name wasn't even on the sign, and that was a street not a driveway. Don't even get me started on how that "billboard" is completely in the dark and impossible to see in the rain... What's my point? Sarah will always think she is right, I will always think I am right, and our friendship will survive. We will add it to the quiver of stories that we shoot at each other when we are having a rant about how ridiculous we both are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you, Sarah. I miss knowing you are just around the corner. I miss the funny way we are when we are together. I miss the way you know me. You don't hate or judge, and you know how to tell me I am wrong in a way that I can hear. I don't know, I guess that is what love is. Or maybe I have had too much coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think about us when we are old and wrinkled. Can't you just see us? You will be fully gray; I will be trying out another ridiculous hair color. You will be in some great velvet jogging suit; I will be in a rainbow skirt with noisy bells. We will be sitting together over coffee grumbling about kids and their lack of respect. We will talk about what they wear and how their parents should teach them better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for being my friend, and I mean that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-29098404758217158?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/29098404758217158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=29098404758217158' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/29098404758217158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/29098404758217158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-friend.html' title='My friend'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7899365419482800552</id><published>2008-12-17T08:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T08:52:08.008-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Warm fuzzies</title><content type='html'>Everyone I run into these days in is in the holiday spirit, and shock and surprise, so am I! There is something in the air that just seems to have people thinking about the importance of family and friends and not so much the pressure of gifts and stuff. I am certain the recession has people pinching pennies just as much as the next guy, and strangely, I think we finally have something for which we can thank Bush. The money crunch is making this a much more personal holiday season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those that don't know, I walked the stage this weekend claiming my empty diploma holder in a graduation ceremony enjoyed by close friends and family. The big to-do was followed by lunch at one of my favorite Memphis haunts. During the melee of pork and rib sauce, I took a mental picture that I hope I will remember far into the oldest days I live. Surrounded by loving well-wishers, I felt like I was in the midst of a family I am rarely thankful for having. We fight, we bicker, we forget, we blame, but we also laugh, joke, praise, and celebrate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For several days I have been working on a project for my mother. She moved from my childhood home to the house once occupied by my late grandmother. Using my winter hiatus to clean out the attic of the older home seemed like a perfect opportunity to do something really helpful. During day three or four of the attic adventure, I found several boxes of pictures from upwards of 40 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't describe just how happy I have been to look through all these pictures that I never knew existed. There are so many pictures of my father and me that I can actually feel an empty place start to fill. One that is especially striking is of me and daddy in the backyard. I must have been 4 or so. He is laying on a sleeping bag, and I am putting sunblock on his back. It is just a picture of me with my hand on his back as he lays there with his eyes closed on a sunny day. I feel all warm and glowy when I look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is another picture of me and him when I was too little to have too many teeth. I am sitting on his lap while he shows me how to brush my teeth. I am looking directly into his face as he looks into mine. I feel like I am being hugged and held when I look at this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are others that make me cry, and I am just as grateful for those as I am for the warmer ones. For the first time in a long time I am in touch with who I was and who I am. I can miss him and not be as sad as I once was. I don't know the words to describe how good it feels to know and now have proof that he was real and he loved me. My father loved me. He would still love me if he was here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7899365419482800552?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7899365419482800552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7899365419482800552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7899365419482800552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7899365419482800552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/12/warm-fuzzies.html' title='Warm fuzzies'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-5372989577643818462</id><published>2008-12-08T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T12:54:35.488-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From the Queen of Passive Aggressiva</title><content type='html'>Unremarkable me, overly sensitive soul, walking a thin line between pained and painful. Hearing what I don't want to know, wishing I could just be under a rock and ignored. No way for that to happen when a magpie haunts the trees and the eaves. I flew away and built a nest of newspaper and black ink. There with the comfort of unknown origins sits the possibility of anonymity. Yet... the silence is stirred and the stillness broken by the chirping of that now unasked for bird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wily-nilly, power-flower take your words away. Leave me alone. Find another peace to piss on and know that I loved you once. Little magpie, I wanted noise and flutter, but that isn't welcome anymore. I need a quiet solemnity that you just can't be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once,when friends had flown and life seemed dreary, you were the noise I needed. Now, well, it's just clutter you shove so thoughtlessly my way. Leave me in my nest of newspaper and black ink. Forget my stories. Remember that things were good for as long as they were, but those times are gone. I wanted to grow old with you. Your sound isn't the music it once was. I'm sorry I don't need you. I want to miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take my name out of your mouth. Magpie, don't chatter about me. Your name is safe with me. I don't desire to hurt it. You are a good magpie. You are smart and ambitious and full of life. You are beautiful and exciting and worthy of all you receive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-5372989577643818462?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5372989577643818462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=5372989577643818462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5372989577643818462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/5372989577643818462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/12/from-queen-of-passive-aggressiva.html' title='From the Queen of Passive Aggressiva'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-1681805432085386269</id><published>2008-12-05T07:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T07:15:13.224-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Denouement</title><content type='html'>Wooo hooo! I just gave the final of the finals, and I am just waiting on one or two little things before I am done teaching for 2008! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am totally going to miss teaching everyday. It has been a blast, and I mean that! Even when I got behind on grading and had to give some things up to get grading done, well, it was still fun. I like what I do, and I am hoping I get to do it for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to the opportunity to teach this class again next semester. Now that I have a firmer grasp on the bigger picture of the expected accomplishments for a class like this, I think I can change a few things and make it a much more beneficial experience for my students. At some point during my winter break (read: nap), I am going to rethink my game plan for teaching students how to become better writers. I am also going to look for more ways to make grammar a little more appealing. I know, it is an exercise in futility, but I will search nonetheless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-1681805432085386269?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1681805432085386269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=1681805432085386269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1681805432085386269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/1681805432085386269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/12/denouement.html' title='Denouement'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6581073006746010966</id><published>2008-12-01T08:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T08:47:17.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MIA</title><content type='html'>Chloe is missing. The day I found out about the cancer thing a white kitty-cat wandered into my yard. In the middle of life-changing news, I sat in the misty rain and coaxed this pretty kitty into eating food from my hand. A real outdoorsy kind of kitty, Chloe wasn't really one to come inside with any kind of ease. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only recently when the weather snapped chilly did Chloe venture inside mine and Nathan's humble dwelling. She slept on Nathan's bottom bunk, warmed herself by the kitchen heater, and ran from my other cat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Wednesday my brother and his wife brought their dog with them for their Thanksgiving visit. I guess Chloe sensed Sam's canine presence because Chloe has been AWOL since then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so worried about her. I wandered through the woods at the edge of my house looking for her. It has been so cold, and my mind is wandering into dark places searching for possibilities about where she might be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best, I am picturing her taken in by a family with kids and a mom with a soft place in her heart for strays. Maybe she will come running home soon with a belly full of babies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chloe wore a little pink collar with a bell. I keep thinking I can hear it jingling faintly in the woods. When I go in the direction of the sound, I am met with cold wind and rain, reminding me that Chloe might be out there cold and scared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6581073006746010966?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6581073006746010966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6581073006746010966' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6581073006746010966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6581073006746010966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/12/mia.html' title='MIA'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-683812633718732531</id><published>2008-11-24T05:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T05:56:56.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Underwhelming and necessary</title><content type='html'>Really happy about the mellow weekend. Turned off the phone, snuggled with my new blanket, and forced myself into not being such a grump. It's starting to work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talked on the phone for a very long time to Julie. I think she gets it. I need to think that someone gets it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something amazing is on the horizon. That isn't wishful thinking. There will be more about it later, either way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am done with Jackson State on December 5th. What am I supposed to do for a whole month? After our long talk, Julie and I decided that a trip down to see her is in order. I cannot wait! I really want this to work out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Graduation is December 13th with a family thing the night before. Hopefully a few friends can make the cut. It really isn't up to me. That is actually my mother's call. She's footing the bill, so she gets to approve the guest list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All weekend I made myself work out. I kept waiting for that sweet release of endorphins that are always being tauted as some kind of natural high. That didn't really happen. I did, however, decide that watching season 2 of Grey's Anatomy while on the eliptical makes for a surprisingly productive and surrepticiously lengthy workout. I am a master of self-deception.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-683812633718732531?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/683812633718732531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=683812633718732531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/683812633718732531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/683812633718732531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/11/underwhelming-and-necessary.html' title='Underwhelming and necessary'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-9060496317756027425</id><published>2008-11-19T05:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T06:12:54.792-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Women these days</title><content type='html'>Finding time to read these days! Picked up a book I bought back in March, but never cracked the cover. If you don't love Chuck Klosterman, that's cool. He has infected the way I write from time to time (probably right now), and he more than successfully gets into the way I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs is just a collection of his seemingly random thoughts about culture and its influence and media and such and the things he usually writes about in his works. Last night I was reading about how men are reluctant to admit that they all find Pamela Anderson sexy/attractive/pretty. What Chuck says, and I tend to agree, is that men who admit to finding her attractive are either at the cusp of cool or dead in the center of what everyone else is doing. Now, this may not seem like a big revelation, but I think it actually has some worth buried deep inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a woman who is not a man (hahahaha), I see dudes all the time who say that one thing or another is hot/attractive/do-able about some chick. I mean, dudes have different tastes. Thinking that there is something to say about how cool you are based on how trendy the object of your affection is just never occured to me! I feel like such a backwards social component when I admit this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when Kate Moss was attractive. I remember when that girl from Garbage was attractive. I remember when all kinds of girls were considered pretty, girls who are so far down the list of hot they are now barely remembered. I am thinking about trends of socially pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the implications of what Chuck is saying. In these war-torn and economically unfriendly times, who is hot? Is it the matron who will save all the lost boys? Is it the plump version of Rosie who will sustain us all through the famine of social relaxation? I promise to pay attention and report my findings. I am so intrigued by this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-9060496317756027425?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/9060496317756027425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=9060496317756027425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/9060496317756027425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/9060496317756027425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/11/women-these-days.html' title='Women these days'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-7509499334552930585</id><published>2008-11-18T07:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T07:17:10.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Roads to nowhere</title><content type='html'>My aunt sends me forwards. Sometimes I read them, sometimes I don't. She has good taste and a wry sense of humor. I should read them more often. The latest one that I dared to open is full of pretty images. The pictures have me thinking about cliches and the depth sometimes hidden in them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a coin. It has two sides. They all do. Perspective. Love. Hate. Darkness. Light. Present. Future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are both pictures of roads to nowhere. If nowhere is a place you can go, then is it really nowhere? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SSLb6ACrTlI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RYivqZvIRKM/s1600-h/another+road+to+nowhere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SSLb6ACrTlI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RYivqZvIRKM/s320/another+road+to+nowhere.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270016303467023954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SSLb58m9gaI/AAAAAAAAAE4/mpxRqp0DMu0/s1600-h/road+to+nowhere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SSLb58m9gaI/AAAAAAAAAE4/mpxRqp0DMu0/s320/road+to+nowhere.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270016302545469858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-7509499334552930585?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7509499334552930585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=7509499334552930585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7509499334552930585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/7509499334552930585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/11/roads-to-nowhere.html' title='Roads to nowhere'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SSLb6ACrTlI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RYivqZvIRKM/s72-c/another+road+to+nowhere.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5133985157092993278.post-6796791211507923901</id><published>2008-11-15T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T11:00:56.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing my religion</title><content type='html'>I'm losing myself. In light of lessening struggles, who I am is not the clear understanding I once had. I am the girl who overcomes obstacles. Who am I when I am not doing that? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am almost 30 with the training wheels off for the first time. Who I was and who I am now are just not the same people. This new person does not stand up for herself. This new person does not have anything to offer to a conversation. She talks about herself in the third person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am beginning a journey to the me I am wthout the weight of the last six years. Maybe it's the change in the air and the world that have prompted me to start a project on myself. I am an amazing person, not the person I was, and not yet the person I will be. Be patient with me. I am learning. Give me credit for what I know. Humility does not make me weak. It is proof that I am strong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5133985157092993278-6796791211507923901?l=sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6796791211507923901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5133985157092993278&amp;postID=6796791211507923901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6796791211507923901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5133985157092993278/posts/default/6796791211507923901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sunnysideupsarahbeth.blogspot.com/2008/11/losing-my-religion.html' title='Losing my religion'/><author><name>sarah beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VUJ_j8P9zRw/SOuFUXVhwII/AAAAAAAAACw/KW-FpZ7yMsI/S220/shooting+the+gun.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
