The Early Worm!

Keeping with the theme of the pattern of some of my latest posts, I'd like to start by reminiscing about a sibling....

My brother Stick used to have a notebook in which he wrote quotes he had collected over the years. One of these quotes went something like this: "It has not yet been determined whether or not the early bird enjoys the worm as much as the late bird enjoys the extra sleep." (Source unknown)

I have been living my life lately in line with this sentiment. But, unfortunately, not from the bird's point of view! it has come to my attention, as I have tried to work late hours while still getting up early enough to get to my morning job on time, that neither of the above statements is particularly enjoyable for the WORM!
 
Think about this poor little guy....if he gets up early, the early bird gets him. If he gets up late, the late bird gets him. He's pretty much worked over either way. He stays up all night, simply because the late bird is out, then he has to watch out for that weird bird that actually likes to get up early!
 
So what I have decided is that things would be much better for me if I could just teach Night School. Sleep in later, still have most of the day to be creative/productive, then go to work.
 
Just recently, I started teaching voice at the local college. I have eight full-time students, and two half-time students. This means nine hours of teaching a week, on top of my regular teaching career. Add to that three hours commute per week, and the five hours I spend at the prison, and it mean I don't see my family much of the week.
 
We are starting the last week of the semester Monday (okay, tomorrow, since it is after midnight...). about half of my students have informed me that they are either changing majors, or are going to take voice from the head of the vocal department next semester. I don't blame them, I wish I could take lessons from him, too! This means that I will have a 50% reduction in my paycheck from the college for the next three months, but I have decided that since it also means I will have one less day of teaching each week, it might not be so bad after all.
  
So here I sit, at 12:20 a.m., contemplating lack of sleep...."to sleep. Perchance, to dream...." (Wm. Shakespeare)

Ho Ho Ho!

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Look! Up in the Sky!

INKLINGS posted something today that really got me thinking. She was wishing our brother, Twist a happy birthday and telling stories about him growing up. I am 13 years his junior, so I don't remember any of what she posted. I remember him returning from his LDS mission to Yucatan the night before we were to move to another state. I remember him attending college in that other state. I remember forgetting to relay his message to my parents one night that his car had broken down and he needed them to come get him (I don't think he waited more than three or four hours...). I remember his briefcase and his cat, and the days my dog tried to ruin both in various way (usually trying to eat the cat or pee on the briefcase). I remember going with the family to his wedding (and being scared clean out of my wits by all the older people).
 
But mostly, I remember having a not-too-small amount of hero-worship regarding both him and our other brother, Stick. Both of these brothers were already past high school before I was even out of elementary. Both of them served LDS missions. And both of them have always known more about some really cool stuff than I have ever even heard! And they didn't just know stuff, they DID it! I've never jumped off the roof holding nothing but a sheet. I NEVER found the hidden "room" in our big house. I have eaten frog legs, but I didn't actually kill, skin, and cook the frogs! I mentioned on Inklings' blog that I've always felt a little left out.
  
As I grew up, Stick and I shared a room, and as mentioned in another of my posts, he even let me drive his car (he taught me how to drive a standard--or should I say stick?). Most of the cool things I mentioned wanting in another post, I see them using first. I don't have to have everything they have, but some of the things sure make my wallet itch!
    
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my sisters! Delerious and I shared a room for about the first four years of my life, and I have many fond memories of times we shared over the years. I even went on Inklings' honeymoon! I was 1 year old at the time, and suffered from earaches, so that made for an interesting trip, but how many sisters out there would do that (BTW, Inklings, thanks for not letting Dee Ice come on MY honeymoon like he always threatened he would!). And Nene and I have more fun when we get together than most people would find anywhere else!
  
For those who don't know, I am the youngest in my family, and have always heard how spoiled I was (am?). This may be true, but I guess after dealing with the rest of them, my mom was just tired of worrying! I am sure that if I had been able to spend all day in the hills eating frog legs, perhaps she would have worried a bit more about me, too! Regardless, Twist, I hope your birthday was special. And to the rest of you, thanks for giving me enough heroes to look up to that I didn't need too many anywhere else!

Make$ the World Go Round

My brother Stick used to have a bumper sticker which said, "He who dies with the most toys WINS!" The true irony was that the bumper it was stuck to was an old orange Buick Opel. He swore by that car (and I believe, sometimes AT it). It was able to jump start bigger, newer vehicles many times. I drove that car to most of my senior year of high school, and even I have fond memories of it. Later, I saw that same slogan on a NO FEAR T-shirt, but slightly altered: "He who dies with the most toys still DIES."

Unfortunately, somehow, I have managed to buy into the whole propaganda. I seem to need material possessions to make me feel better. This last month, we have been getting a load ready to take to the D.I. (which for those reading unaware of this, is a thrift store started by the LDS church). We aren't even finished putting things together, and my truck bed is so full the guards at the prison where I volunteer sometimes have an apoplexy thinking there may be an inmate hiding in there somewhere.

There are obviously things we have to have in order to live, and some things that make our lives much more comfortable, but I worry sometimes that I may be too materialistic. Then I wonder: if I were wealthy, yes, i would have a nice house and good cars, and stock the house with some great "toys," but would I really feel the need to continue buying? If my life were smoother, would I have the compulsion to look in the Wal-Mart $5 DVD bin/rack every time I walk past? Would I feel the need to even spend more time and money than required to purchase my food, hygiene products and cleaning supplies, etc.

   

I know that the love of money is the root of all evil, and that being possession-minded is wrong, but I can't seem to help myself. I make more money than I ever thought I would, have more debt than I ever thought I could, and spend more than I ever thought I should, but I still gather and hoard whatever I can. Boy do I hoard. I have so many books, my shelves are too small now, and the books are in piles on the floor, which means, of course, that I will have to buy bigger and better book-shelves. My CD collections is divided into stacks located in at least 4 or five different locations (other than the CD drawers which can't hold all of them).

   

When do we reach critical mass? When is enough ENOUGH? When will I finally have enough of the things that I really want? And when will everyone quit getting cooler things, making me want to run out and spend even more? The saddest thing is, by the time I can finally get everything I want, I'll probably be too old to really enjoy it. Either that, or I'll decide that's when it's time to simplify my life. Alas, will ironies never cease? I'm just glad that darned bumper sticker wasn't true.....was it?

No Flying Piggies!

I went to the doctor on Monday because I woke up with a really bad cough. I was thinking the whole way there, "Oh great! Now I have swine flu, and I'll miss a whole week of school or more!" The tests came back negative, so he pumped me full of antibiotics and gave me a prescription.
   
While I was there, I had him give me a cortisone shot in my wrist to ease my carpal tunnel symptoms. I had forgotten just how much those shots hurt. Anyway, three days later, I still have the cough, but it's better, my wrist still hurts, but it's better. I used to hate shots (just like my oldest daughter still does), but now I usually ask for them!

New Blog

For all my family and faithful followers, I have started a new blog, titled "Riter's Bloque." This new site is for all of you who enjoy writing prose. Sorry, no poetry in this blog (unless it's a quote, etc.).

I hope this will be as fun as I hope it will be....!

Musical Pillows?

So I have been missing more sleep lately than usual, due to getting home late from our school musical practices and performances. This is fairly normal. What isn't normal, is the fact that I also have classes in the evenings at the college.
 

Today, while GIVING A VOICE LESSON, I actually FELL ASLEEP WHILE PLAYING THE PIANO! Alright, I really just drifted off for a second, but still. My student didn't say anything, so i don't think I was taking a nap or anything, but I suddenly found myself telling her something about the song. That isn't bad, but the fact that what i told her made ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE WHATSOEVER, could be. She didn't comment, but I sat there for just a second trying to figure out what it was I had dreamed for that fraction of a second that I felt was important. Then I realized it was just nonsense, so went on with the remainder of the lesson.
 
I've learned my lesson, though. From now on I will try harder to get enough sleep so I don't skijh mremnv o n oenjng ouiel gopn  pfinfkb...zzzzzzzzzzzzz...............

Nuff Said?

Nick Vujicic - One of My Heroes

I've been watching Nick for awhile now. I would love to meet him some day check out his website sometime. Life Without Limbs

Goodbye, Uncle Pat