dreams.
7 years ago
Monday, August 10, 2009
Social Networks
First of all, I think that the face of social networks is changing. When I hear the word social, the first thing that comes to mind is friends, fun, leisure, gathering, etc. It does not sound very professional. Taking a step back and peeling away the meaning of the word, however, I find that the word social comes from the same root as society. Social networks are truly a gathering of people in society who are coming together for a common purpose: for the sharing or seeking of information. My use of social networks has evolved over the years. I remember having the Internet before any of my friends did as a child. I sent my dad e-mails because there was no one else to e-mail. Because of my comfort level with the Internet, I was able to jump into social networking immediately with Facebook, MySpace, etc. in college. This is where the trouble begins. I created a digital footprint of myself that was appropriate, that I wouldn't mind my students/colleagues seeing, but it wasn't necessarily for professional purposes. I'd like to change that image, yet still remain interesting to "friends" who aren't necessarily concerned with technology in education. This brings me to my point- social networks are the crossroads between our living rooms, our offices, and our minds. They are bringing information to people quicker than ever before, helping us build our knowledge base and become better educators and writers without ever having to leave our sofa.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
What's the point?
After completing the first week of the UPWP (and really, I feel like we've just started scraping the surface), I've come to several conclusions:
1) This blog has not focus or purpose. Sometimes I write about my personal life, sometimes vague descriptions of an event that has happened to me professionally, or sometimes I just write random things. I must not really have much of an audience if this is the case. When I go to my dashboard, I have 3 blogs that I have started, not to mention the other 2 that are on my newer address with my married name. I've got to figure that out.
2) I hate writing in a notebook. Enough said.
So until I get this whole focus thing figured out, I may take a brief hiatus instead of having posting diarrhea. I need to make this work.
1) This blog has not focus or purpose. Sometimes I write about my personal life, sometimes vague descriptions of an event that has happened to me professionally, or sometimes I just write random things. I must not really have much of an audience if this is the case. When I go to my dashboard, I have 3 blogs that I have started, not to mention the other 2 that are on my newer address with my married name. I've got to figure that out.
2) I hate writing in a notebook. Enough said.
So until I get this whole focus thing figured out, I may take a brief hiatus instead of having posting diarrhea. I need to make this work.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Gift- Draft 1
When she walked through the doors of the cookie cutter Wal-mart, she is inundated by many senses. The smell of the bakery, the ozone emitted by the coolers, the grease of the far-off automotive section. Blinking away the darkness created by leaving the sun so quickly for a fluorescent fueled world, her vision finally clears to reaveal the bustling of old, wirey-bearded men, child-laden single mothers, and bustling workers in their Smurf colored vests. When her seneses finally settle, though, it is the thoughts of all the people that continue to batter her own inner self. Some days, Pam is able to handle the worry-speak of the people around her, but it is places like this that make the gift hard to bear.
She turned her cart and handed it back to the quiet, glad-eyed greeter. She couldn’t leave, the items she needed to buy were vital to the celebrations planned at school the following day, and in such a small town, this was the only place to buy them at a reasonable price. She took a deep breath and wove her way through crowd to the less crowded McDonald’s in the story. Surely, this would be a safe place with meals that are “Happy” and a ketchup haired clown. There weren’t as many people in there and a majority of them were children anyways.
She pulled up a chair and sat at the purple and blue speckled Formica table. Clutching her head in her hands, fingers tangled in hair, she tried to erase what she had heard in the last 2 minutes. As she drowned out the noises with deep breathing exercises, she heard a frail voice cut through the muddy mess churning in the background. “Roger,” it sighed, “remember when we used to walk to the corner store for sugar and flour on Saturdays. I can still feel you sneak up behind me in the kitchen later in the afternoons in order to wrap your arms around my apron-covered waist. Oh, how I hated the interruption to my baking routing, but in fact, that was part of the routine. I miss our routine.” After hearing this conversation, Pam slowly raised her head up and let the sandy strands of hair fall from her fingertips. She glanced around, so as to not be too obvious to the crowd. Again, she saw the single mom with children hanging off of her spaghetti straps. “No,” she thought, “The only place she walks to is to the bus stop.” She saw a middle aged woman in Cherokee jeans staring up at the menu board, avoiding eye contact, but for some other reason. There wasn’t a couple in this place, mostly women, and one man in a trucker hat sitting by himself in a corner. Finally, her eyes settled on the woman cradling her cup of coffee, her salt and pepper hair pulled back into a bun. This Strega Nona look-alike looked oddly out of place in a Wal-Mart. Surely she was the type to walk to the store. She was the one with the once in a lifetime, fairy tale love who would cradle her in the kitchen. Pam got up from the table, grabbing a straw wrapper that had been left by some milkshake toting teen before her. As she walked towards Strega Nona, she inhaled deeply and was ready to sidle up beside her. At the last second, she made a slight turn to the right, slammed the wrapper in the trash, and hurried out the sliding glass doors, being sucked out of the airconditioned 21st century biome back into the sunlight. “Nope,” she said shaking her head and walking, no running away in the hopes of erasing the noise once again, “not ready.”
She turned her cart and handed it back to the quiet, glad-eyed greeter. She couldn’t leave, the items she needed to buy were vital to the celebrations planned at school the following day, and in such a small town, this was the only place to buy them at a reasonable price. She took a deep breath and wove her way through crowd to the less crowded McDonald’s in the story. Surely, this would be a safe place with meals that are “Happy” and a ketchup haired clown. There weren’t as many people in there and a majority of them were children anyways.
She pulled up a chair and sat at the purple and blue speckled Formica table. Clutching her head in her hands, fingers tangled in hair, she tried to erase what she had heard in the last 2 minutes. As she drowned out the noises with deep breathing exercises, she heard a frail voice cut through the muddy mess churning in the background. “Roger,” it sighed, “remember when we used to walk to the corner store for sugar and flour on Saturdays. I can still feel you sneak up behind me in the kitchen later in the afternoons in order to wrap your arms around my apron-covered waist. Oh, how I hated the interruption to my baking routing, but in fact, that was part of the routine. I miss our routine.” After hearing this conversation, Pam slowly raised her head up and let the sandy strands of hair fall from her fingertips. She glanced around, so as to not be too obvious to the crowd. Again, she saw the single mom with children hanging off of her spaghetti straps. “No,” she thought, “The only place she walks to is to the bus stop.” She saw a middle aged woman in Cherokee jeans staring up at the menu board, avoiding eye contact, but for some other reason. There wasn’t a couple in this place, mostly women, and one man in a trucker hat sitting by himself in a corner. Finally, her eyes settled on the woman cradling her cup of coffee, her salt and pepper hair pulled back into a bun. This Strega Nona look-alike looked oddly out of place in a Wal-Mart. Surely she was the type to walk to the store. She was the one with the once in a lifetime, fairy tale love who would cradle her in the kitchen. Pam got up from the table, grabbing a straw wrapper that had been left by some milkshake toting teen before her. As she walked towards Strega Nona, she inhaled deeply and was ready to sidle up beside her. At the last second, she made a slight turn to the right, slammed the wrapper in the trash, and hurried out the sliding glass doors, being sucked out of the airconditioned 21st century biome back into the sunlight. “Nope,” she said shaking her head and walking, no running away in the hopes of erasing the noise once again, “not ready.”
Deadman's Hill- Rough Draft
I am an activist. Definition: Someone who is passionate about being active. Don’t get me wrong, I love sitting down on a rainy day with a favorite movie or catching up with my favorite shows on Hulu, but if I take the time to do that, I often wonder if I could’ve spent my time in a more productive manner. If I take the time to wander through my memories past familiar faces and down old streets, I can usually find where that passion came from.
Early on in my journey, I think that it came from being so involved with high school and college athletics. I was competitive on a team that, at the time, was nationally ranked. But when I reflect on my more recent athletic endeavors, I feel like my collegiate involvement is simply the root for my feelings of failure. I must not do it for the thrill of competition, because that is not the driving force behind my desires for activity. It must go further back than that…
Humidity is at the source of my desires for activity. On Saturday mornings, the August air hung over our subdivision like a tarp shading us from the pure air in the atmosphere. I would be eagerly waiting on my lavender Huffy, rolling the wheels back and forth to make the spoke do-dads as noisy as possible in order to show my impatience. You can’t rush the master of routine though. Dad went through his routine at his own pace. It’s as if any deviation might create chaos in the universe. Dad would put on his calf-length white cotton socks (he still wears them today, unless there’s rain) and lace up his Reebok Aztreks (God forbid he wear any other type of shoe). After that he would sit in the basement and run through his stretching routine (never mind that he never warmed up prior to this). Butterfly, hurdlers, quads, hip flexors, repeat. Later on, his back and ab stretches also were integrated, but this was only a necessity out of old age. Finally, he would hand me the bottle of orange flavored Gatorade with it’s green and carroty colored top to stick in my water-bottle holder and we would pull out of the driveway. As we turned the corner, Dad would start his watch, always double-checking to make sure it started on the first hit. We would wind through our subdivision, which was mostly my world and head out to another dimension, crossing the Grand River, a majestic river to a child who had not yet been inundated with messages of pollution and filth that Lower Michigan’s industries contributed to it. We headed up the hill with a quick left on Delta River drive that, at the time, was a dirt road with an enormous hill that I could fly down. I let myself coast past my dad, enjoying this part of the ride to its fullest since I knew he could easily catch up as I waited at the bottom.
On this particular day, our journey was past our usual yellow caution sign turning point. This time we turned left onto Eaton Highway and I had to give my dad a swig of his Gatorade at the bridge over I-96. The amount of sweat under my helmet was a drop compared to the rainstorm of beads over the bulging vein in his forehead. Somehow though, even after we turned around, my dad was able to keep that same steady pace. The dirt road became rough terrain for me as I tired, and as we rounded the curve on Delta River Drive, I saw that fun downhill taunting me and I realized, “Shoot, I have to go up this, don’t I?” I was tough though, I didn’t dare let my dad know that this intimidated me, even though I’ve had to walk up it many times before. I pushed harder at the bottom and as we started slowing on the ascent, I could hear my dad singing softly. “Hmmm, hmm, hm. Hmmm, hmm hm.” I made the assumption that he was pushing himself along with a tune until it got louder. “Deadman’s hill, deadman’s hill, we’re going up deadman’s hill.” He repeated it until I joined in and suddenly, I forgot about the hill and focused more on our song. When we crested the top, the last little part where you think you’re done, but somehow the flat is still so hard to ride, he changed the verse to “Deadman’s hill, deadman’s hill, we made it up deadman’s hill.” I was so excited that I finally was able to do it and even more excited that the song made it a breeze. “Dad,” I asked, “What makes you want to do this everyday, in 90 degrees, in snow, and in rain?”
“Kara,” he replied, “Someday, when you love something, nothing makes you do it. You do it because you need to. It’s like breathing. When I don’t do it, it just doesn’t feel right.”
**How the heck to I end this piece without sounding cliche??
If I walk through the years with my memory to my adult self, I realize that its not about the coach getting in your face for skimping on a workout, its not about your teammates, your parents, your tuition; it’s about yourself and breathing.
Early on in my journey, I think that it came from being so involved with high school and college athletics. I was competitive on a team that, at the time, was nationally ranked. But when I reflect on my more recent athletic endeavors, I feel like my collegiate involvement is simply the root for my feelings of failure. I must not do it for the thrill of competition, because that is not the driving force behind my desires for activity. It must go further back than that…
Humidity is at the source of my desires for activity. On Saturday mornings, the August air hung over our subdivision like a tarp shading us from the pure air in the atmosphere. I would be eagerly waiting on my lavender Huffy, rolling the wheels back and forth to make the spoke do-dads as noisy as possible in order to show my impatience. You can’t rush the master of routine though. Dad went through his routine at his own pace. It’s as if any deviation might create chaos in the universe. Dad would put on his calf-length white cotton socks (he still wears them today, unless there’s rain) and lace up his Reebok Aztreks (God forbid he wear any other type of shoe). After that he would sit in the basement and run through his stretching routine (never mind that he never warmed up prior to this). Butterfly, hurdlers, quads, hip flexors, repeat. Later on, his back and ab stretches also were integrated, but this was only a necessity out of old age. Finally, he would hand me the bottle of orange flavored Gatorade with it’s green and carroty colored top to stick in my water-bottle holder and we would pull out of the driveway. As we turned the corner, Dad would start his watch, always double-checking to make sure it started on the first hit. We would wind through our subdivision, which was mostly my world and head out to another dimension, crossing the Grand River, a majestic river to a child who had not yet been inundated with messages of pollution and filth that Lower Michigan’s industries contributed to it. We headed up the hill with a quick left on Delta River drive that, at the time, was a dirt road with an enormous hill that I could fly down. I let myself coast past my dad, enjoying this part of the ride to its fullest since I knew he could easily catch up as I waited at the bottom.
On this particular day, our journey was past our usual yellow caution sign turning point. This time we turned left onto Eaton Highway and I had to give my dad a swig of his Gatorade at the bridge over I-96. The amount of sweat under my helmet was a drop compared to the rainstorm of beads over the bulging vein in his forehead. Somehow though, even after we turned around, my dad was able to keep that same steady pace. The dirt road became rough terrain for me as I tired, and as we rounded the curve on Delta River Drive, I saw that fun downhill taunting me and I realized, “Shoot, I have to go up this, don’t I?” I was tough though, I didn’t dare let my dad know that this intimidated me, even though I’ve had to walk up it many times before. I pushed harder at the bottom and as we started slowing on the ascent, I could hear my dad singing softly. “Hmmm, hmm, hm. Hmmm, hmm hm.” I made the assumption that he was pushing himself along with a tune until it got louder. “Deadman’s hill, deadman’s hill, we’re going up deadman’s hill.” He repeated it until I joined in and suddenly, I forgot about the hill and focused more on our song. When we crested the top, the last little part where you think you’re done, but somehow the flat is still so hard to ride, he changed the verse to “Deadman’s hill, deadman’s hill, we made it up deadman’s hill.” I was so excited that I finally was able to do it and even more excited that the song made it a breeze. “Dad,” I asked, “What makes you want to do this everyday, in 90 degrees, in snow, and in rain?”
“Kara,” he replied, “Someday, when you love something, nothing makes you do it. You do it because you need to. It’s like breathing. When I don’t do it, it just doesn’t feel right.”
**How the heck to I end this piece without sounding cliche??
If I walk through the years with my memory to my adult self, I realize that its not about the coach getting in your face for skimping on a workout, its not about your teammates, your parents, your tuition; it’s about yourself and breathing.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
another end.
I stand at the doorway with hands on hips. As I look around, I notice less about the room than I do about myself. My hair hangs like cobwebs in my face. The white t-shirt commemorating some 5k I don't even remember is riddled with smudges of dust, sharpie marker, and God-knows-what. It seems like just yesterday (cliche?) that I was standing in this same position, staring at and empty room. The only difference is that it was only the beginning. My hair was cleanly pulled back, the t-shirt was still clean (and I think it was gray). I too was different. It seems that each year I seem to grow and streeeetch myself, as do my students. I am just a little bit older, a little bit wiser, and the smile lines on my face are just a little bit deeper. I have big plans for next year...but they will have to wait, as I spin on my heels...take a deep breath, and close the door on yet another adventure.
Monday, June 1, 2009
hidden
I guess one of the things I hope to accomplish this summer with the UPWP is to be less self-conscious about my writing. In order to become a better writer, it is important to share it and get critiques from other writers, as well as non-writers and casual readers. I think this is my key to improving my writing and writing instruction.
The Old Wagon
Rusty wheels, once a well oiled machine.
Paint peels off of the body like a sunburnt tourist; flaky and sporadic.
The handle is broken in baby doll fashion.
It just doesn't roll like it used to.
The Old Wagon
Rusty wheels, once a well oiled machine.
Paint peels off of the body like a sunburnt tourist; flaky and sporadic.
The handle is broken in baby doll fashion.
It just doesn't roll like it used to.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Dang
Don't you hate it when you something crosses your mind and you think. "I should blog about that!" Well I did that last night before I went to bed.
Do you think I have any idea of what that thought was now?
Of course not.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
4. 15 friends from Facebook (some virtual cleaning :P )
5. 2 citronella candles that were left out over the winter.
6. Rocky's camouflaged dog jacket (we live in a house with a yard. if it is THAT cold out that he requires a jacket, he shouldn't be out)
7. The old blue curtains from our kitchen
8. Old cell phone (taking it to ATT to recycle)
9. My old jewelry box, which has been sitting next to the *empty* new one since February
5. 2 citronella candles that were left out over the winter.
6. Rocky's camouflaged dog jacket (we live in a house with a yard. if it is THAT cold out that he requires a jacket, he shouldn't be out)
7. The old blue curtains from our kitchen
8. Old cell phone (taking it to ATT to recycle)
9. My old jewelry box, which has been sitting next to the *empty* new one since February
Throw out 50 Things
So in honor of the book, "Throw Out Fifty Things", I've dedicated the rest of the month to actually trying to accomplish this....
1. Old hair clippers of Sammy's that don't even work.
2. An old alarm clock that we have that doesn't work.
3. Three dictionaries from school, I thought I could save them by bringing them home, but they have made their way into the recycling bin.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
welcome to my living room.
Recently (ok yesterday), Sammy said he wanted to see my blog. Now it wasn’t necessarily something that I was HIDING from him, but I didn’t run wanting to show him what I had written in it. Why? It’s not something that’s necessarily private. I guess as I continue to write more, it is my hope that eventually I find inspiration for pieces of writing from what I share here. To me, my thought process is actually somewhat private and I have only chosen to share it with choice people, even though my blog is sometimes open to the public, I assume that people I know don’t actually read it. Sometimes you feel so safe behind the screen, but really, anything you publish on the Internet equates to inviting strangers into your living room…the thought of that is strikingly odd…
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
My F key
Back in June or July (maybe August?) I was having a lovely iChat conversation with Matt. At some point in the conversation, I realized that I wanted to show him something. I put down my computer and coffee on the floor, and proceeded to get up and KICK the coffee onto my computer. She shut down right away and I was worried that I lost her for good. After some blowdrying and a few day's rest, she was back in working order...well, except for my F key. I can type a lowercase "f", but when I try to hold down the shift key for an uppercase "F", nothing comes out. My shift key works with every other key except for the dang F. "So how," you ask, "do you type a capital F?" Well, it takes a lot of skill. Before I hit the key, I hit the caps lock, then the F, then the caps lock again. At first, it was a lot of work, but now, I complete this task with ease. So much so, in fact, that I actually do this on other computers (i.e. Sammy's and work). So when they say "Old habits die hard," don't believe them. You can change, it is just a matter of will/necessity.
So according to Hannah, my blog died. Well, here you go; it's back, although I'm not feeling 100% inspired right now, it's better than nothing, right?
I'm on spring break right now, been up to pretty much nothing. My mom and sister were up on they College Tour '09 trip. They did Ferris, Northern and Lake State, but they spent 4 days up here. It was great having them around for a while. My mom even cleaned my stove!
So according to Hannah, my blog died. Well, here you go; it's back, although I'm not feeling 100% inspired right now, it's better than nothing, right?
I'm on spring break right now, been up to pretty much nothing. My mom and sister were up on they College Tour '09 trip. They did Ferris, Northern and Lake State, but they spent 4 days up here. It was great having them around for a while. My mom even cleaned my stove!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
bricks
I only had to run 3 miles yesterday. which you think would be a piece of cake. Well, with the previous day's hill workout combined with 20 minutes on the trainer yesterday morning, my legs felt like bricks! 20 minutes doesn't sound like a big deal, but it was pretty much the first time my butt has been on a bike since October, and also I pushed it pretty hard in the middle of the ride. I'm debating whether or not to hop on again, but I have a tempo run this afternoon so I think I'm going to not risk having brick legs again...
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
overwhelmed...
So on my way home from the library and a run earlier this evening, Sammy called me and asked me to pick up some broccoli and some chips. I stopped at Econo, and even though Farmer Q's opened yesterday, we NEEDED some fruit and stuff for our lunches. I meandered through the produce section and loaded up a basket, topping it off with a giant mango lemonade to keep in my car for the next couple of days (I love living in the cold). I needed to walk through the grocery section to get to the checkout. I think I randomly walked down the cookie/cracker aisle. Now, normally, I don't shop at Econo, normally I go to SuperOne, which is quite a bit cheaper. The shelves at Econo are much taller, a regular sized person cannot see over them. As I walked down the aisle with my produce laden basket, I literally stopped and gave the shelves a good once over. I couldn't even count the number of products I saw! All of them in vivid, color packaging, calling out for me to buy them! I was overwhelmed by everything that I saw. Then I stopped looking and thought, "How many different, lab made chemicals are in these boxes?" Now, don't get me wrong. I am NOT an organic eating hippy, however, I am very concerned about what I put into my body.
I jump started my brain and made my way down the rest of the aisle, but I felt pretty proud of what I had in my basket. I also was greatful for the nutrition education that I have had through running, friends in excercise science, and friends who have chosen to educate themselves. I have been fortunate enough to also learn for myself and tie all of those opinions and my own reasearch into my beliefs. But what about those who are not as fortunate as me? I can't imagine not eating healthy, but rather, eating the foods from that aisle on a daily basis. The thought of that is overwhelming....
I jump started my brain and made my way down the rest of the aisle, but I felt pretty proud of what I had in my basket. I also was greatful for the nutrition education that I have had through running, friends in excercise science, and friends who have chosen to educate themselves. I have been fortunate enough to also learn for myself and tie all of those opinions and my own reasearch into my beliefs. But what about those who are not as fortunate as me? I can't imagine not eating healthy, but rather, eating the foods from that aisle on a daily basis. The thought of that is overwhelming....
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
the good stuff
Remember running the Ridge Street hill in track when it was Taco Tuesday and almost every week, I would loose my tacos at the top of the hill? I took myself back to those days today. Dry pavement, the smell of Sara Lee, Burger King, and McDonald's all mingled together into one glorious, motivating aroma. This time, however, the motivation was not in the form of a food reward at the end. This time, the smell reminded me of how I got to this place. Food had become my vice and I finally have been able to break free. Now that I am free again, I need to remind myself of how lucky I am have come away with a better understanding of myself and what it takes to be truly happy.
Here's to hills...and Sara Lee, Burger King and McDonald's...may they continue to push me until Memorial Day.
Here's to hills...and Sara Lee, Burger King and McDonald's...may they continue to push me until Memorial Day.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Time
What did we do with our time before the Internet? What did we do with our time before television? What did we do with our time before radio?
This is a question that I ask myself on almost a daily basis. Sometimes I feel so frustrated because my students seem so much different than I was at their age. Now, granted, I was a nerd, but still, I still feel that our generation of students was so much different than the young ones I have now. Kids are so caught up in their TV/video game/myspace/facebook that they rarely have time to do a quality job on their homework. My students have such a difficult time picking up a book outside of the school building.
So here is the big question, do we keep our teaching methods the same, or has our society gotten to the point that we are so wired that we need to adapt our ways of teaching learners on this new frontier?
As a younger teacher, I've always prided myself on my ability to use technology, but now I realize that I do not use technology in my teaching. Yes, I have my students type all their writing....but that is about it. Technologies are indeed are a new literacy and our society is changing, whether we like it or not.
This leads me to ponder this question: are we becoming less intelligent or are we gaining a different kind of intelligences? And the biggest question of all: How do we get our students to value the traditional forms of intelligence while still embracing the new forms?
This is all quite mind boggling to me, perhaps because I experience it day in and day out. Plus, what will we be seeing in 5, 10, and 20 year from now? My head is spinning!
I saw this video at a technology conference last year- it is the 2007 update. Even if you've seen if before, I love it. Shift Happens
Shift happens, teach to the change.
This is a question that I ask myself on almost a daily basis. Sometimes I feel so frustrated because my students seem so much different than I was at their age. Now, granted, I was a nerd, but still, I still feel that our generation of students was so much different than the young ones I have now. Kids are so caught up in their TV/video game/myspace/facebook that they rarely have time to do a quality job on their homework. My students have such a difficult time picking up a book outside of the school building.
So here is the big question, do we keep our teaching methods the same, or has our society gotten to the point that we are so wired that we need to adapt our ways of teaching learners on this new frontier?
As a younger teacher, I've always prided myself on my ability to use technology, but now I realize that I do not use technology in my teaching. Yes, I have my students type all their writing....but that is about it. Technologies are indeed are a new literacy and our society is changing, whether we like it or not.
This leads me to ponder this question: are we becoming less intelligent or are we gaining a different kind of intelligences? And the biggest question of all: How do we get our students to value the traditional forms of intelligence while still embracing the new forms?
This is all quite mind boggling to me, perhaps because I experience it day in and day out. Plus, what will we be seeing in 5, 10, and 20 year from now? My head is spinning!
I saw this video at a technology conference last year- it is the 2007 update. Even if you've seen if before, I love it. Shift Happens
Shift happens, teach to the change.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
following or stalking?
So I have been following quite a few blogs, but didn't want to put any of these blogs in the "My Blog List" on my page unless I have permission from the blog owner. If you want more folks out there to read your blog, leave me a comment and I will add you to my list. I *hear* all of your blogs!
WTF?!
Excuse my language, but why in the world is today's blog of note actually a blog of note?! My blog isn't great, but there are way greater blogs out there. http://chele76.blogspot.com/
Any blog with more than one photo...heck, even ONE photo from http://icanhascheezburger.com/ does not deserve to win. Does ANYONE out there agree with me?!
Disgruntled.
Also tired from parent teacher conferences. And after it is all said and done, I have to go up and time college regionals in Houghton. It never ends.
Any blog with more than one photo...heck, even ONE photo from http://icanhascheezburger.com/ does not deserve to win. Does ANYONE out there agree with me?!
Disgruntled.
Also tired from parent teacher conferences. And after it is all said and done, I have to go up and time college regionals in Houghton. It never ends.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
apologies....
Alright, I've had a couple of people ask what my time was. Let me clarify, first, however.
I won the race because there was maybe 10 women tops in the race. I am proud of the win, but the time was nothing to brag about. I have a long ways to go in order to get back into the shape that I want to be in. My time, for the record was 50 minutes and a handful of seconds. I wasn't even really sure, to be honest and I can't find the results online. I'm shooting for 42ish, so I need to knock more than a minute off of each mile.
I'm sorry for being a sore winner, I know that many people would love to run that time. I guess it is like Sten used to say, if you put forth your best attitude and effort, that is all you can ask for. It is not fair to act bummed out when perhaps somebody you beat gave it there all but just couldn't match up to you.
I hope this post clarified why I was bummed out. :) Time to head to school for a little while; parent-teacher conferences this week!
I won the race because there was maybe 10 women tops in the race. I am proud of the win, but the time was nothing to brag about. I have a long ways to go in order to get back into the shape that I want to be in. My time, for the record was 50 minutes and a handful of seconds. I wasn't even really sure, to be honest and I can't find the results online. I'm shooting for 42ish, so I need to knock more than a minute off of each mile.
I'm sorry for being a sore winner, I know that many people would love to run that time. I guess it is like Sten used to say, if you put forth your best attitude and effort, that is all you can ask for. It is not fair to act bummed out when perhaps somebody you beat gave it there all but just couldn't match up to you.
I hope this post clarified why I was bummed out. :) Time to head to school for a little while; parent-teacher conferences this week!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
race in the snow....
Won a 10k this morning...not very proud of my time, but I can't complain...
Also, Jane is here and I love her! She does not love my dogs. :(ETA: Yes, we have baby gates up in our house...Layla is like a child.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
back on the horse...
Wait! That's not a horse, it's Rocky! Yes, he is sitting in my lap as I type.
You may have noticed a hiatus from my blogging. Last week was a crrraaazy busy week, and then as a result, I got pretty freaking sick. Pile that on top of 7 IEP's in the next week (#1 tomorrow, which is a big one because it is a manifestation hearing for an expelled student) and then dump being a pilot tester for the MEAP-ACCESS test, therefore having to have sub plans for the person covering my classes...oh yeah and did I mention the fact that I am taking TWO GRAD CLASSES?! AND IT WAS GINA's 21st birthday on THURSDAY!?
Yes. I have an excuse. I also had a hiatus from running Friday-Monday due to my illness. My weekend basically consisted of me doing homework for a half hour and then taking a nap for an hour. I usually don't feel weak and dizzy when I have a headcold, but this one was a killer!
I was especially bummed about not being able to run because it warmed up this weekend. Saturday was overcast, but Sunday was a gorgeous sunny day with temps in the high 30's. Yesterday was more of the same. Today was overcast again, with temps in the low 40's. I was able to get out for a half hour run, but I felt like I couldn't push it any more than that- I'm still feeling pretty wiped out.
Hopefully I don't sound like a Debbie Downer; it has just been that insane!
There probably won't be much in the way of photos. I broke Sam's camera (by running with it in my pocket too much) and mine is pretty crummy, but I'll see what I can do.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
still got it
So I was treated to a dose of inspiration yesterday when I went to time the NMU track meet with my father-in-law. Amazingly enough, Northern finally doled out the money to get record boards for track and field. Even more amazing is the fact that I still have 2 records!
I got so pumped after seeing them that I had to go for a run back down there to take a few pics. Who knows how much longer those records from '04 will stand??
125.5
Sunday, January 25, 2009
not enough time
It seems like the weekend hasn't even started yet and at the same time, it feels like it is already over. I am exhausted from two days of timing work, but I managed to complete day 1 of training for the Bayshore...it was pretty simple, seeing as how all the plan called for was 3 miles and strength. It is freezing cold here, -9 when I looked at 9 this morning, so I opted to do my run at the gym. I finished it and did some strength, so I guess that's all I can hope for. Tomorrow, there is a 5 mile run on tap, comfortable pace....
Off to do some grocery shopping....
127.5
Off to do some grocery shopping....
127.5
Thursday, January 22, 2009
MIA
My apologies for being MIA...end of the marking period is today, teacher workday tomorrow, then working for Chuck at the Noquemanon tomorrow night and Saturday. Hopefully I make enough to put a dent in our $900 plumber bill (Insurance is covering $400 of it, but we have a $500 deductible. Hooray!)
See you all on the flip side when life has settled down on Sunday!
127
See you all on the flip side when life has settled down on Sunday!
127
Monday, January 19, 2009
Guess what it's doing outside?!?!?
The camera on my phone is absolutely awful, but yes...it is snowing. I'm currently on the third floor of PWPL doing some homework and I wish I had a better camera! The Front street clock looks awesome through the snow! I'll be wrapping up here in about a half hour and be heading to the gym. No outside exercise for me, I had too much junk to do while it was light out.
128.5
**Edited to add: I just saw kids skate skiing down the street. Granted, I see people skiing down the street all the time, but SKATE skiing requires a lot of snow. I <3 the U.P.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Old habits die hard
...the real purpose of running isn't to win a race. It's to test to the limits of the human heart.
-Bill Bowerman
I've been heartless for 3 and a half years...Grand Island didn't count since it was an off the couch marathon....time to find my heart again.
Joys
Last night, we went to dinner at L'Attitude and then to a Teaching Family Homes benefit at the UpFront in the banquet room. Got to hang out with some friends and some folks from work as well. A good time was had by all until we got home and realized that it was 57 degrees in our house...and the heat was set at 64....
The culprit? We have radiant heat, so yes, it was frozen heat pipes We had an issue with a water pipe earlier in the day, but that was a quick fix (relatively). Sam cut a hole in the wood downstairs, warmed it up with a blowdrier, and reinsulated areas around the pipes. This was not such an easy fix; my guy stayed up all night buying a few electric heaters and worked to warm up the areas in our crawlspace. Around noon, success! The pipes began to thaw....and revealed that they had cracked when they were frozen! Awesome...but then a lightbulb went on. We pay for this darn homeowner's insurance; now is the time to use it! I called my agent (a friend from Munising) and it turns out if we called a plumber in the first place, it would be covered. So now I'm just hanging out, waiting for this guy to finish his job. :)
Good run this morning with l
ightly falling snow. I needed to do a few miles at race pace, but I wanted to head down and see if there were any decent trails to run on. There are a few down by the Dead River. I took the road less traveled by.
51 minutes (20 minutes easy pace, 20 minutes race pace, 11 minutes easy pace)
129
The culprit? We have radiant heat, so yes, it was frozen heat pipes We had an issue with a water pipe earlier in the day, but that was a quick fix (relatively). Sam cut a hole in the wood downstairs, warmed it up with a blowdrier, and reinsulated areas around the pipes. This was not such an easy fix; my guy stayed up all night buying a few electric heaters and worked to warm up the areas in our crawlspace. Around noon, success! The pipes began to thaw....and revealed that they had cracked when they were frozen! Awesome...but then a lightbulb went on. We pay for this darn homeowner's insurance; now is the time to use it! I called my agent (a friend from Munising) and it turns out if we called a plumber in the first place, it would be covered. So now I'm just hanging out, waiting for this guy to finish his job. :)
Good run this morning with l
ightly falling snow. I needed to do a few miles at race pace, but I wanted to head down and see if there were any decent trails to run on. There are a few down by the Dead River. I took the road less traveled by.51 minutes (20 minutes easy pace, 20 minutes race pace, 11 minutes easy pace)
129
Friday, January 16, 2009
What's in a name...
The first time I heard "lucky loser" at a ski race, I thought it to be derogatory, however, it really is someone who has been given another chance to succeed. We all have our bad days. Matt and I were talking today and I said, "This is the year." Even if I said that last year, there is always a second chance....so here it goes, "This is the year."
A lucky loser is a sports player who loses a match in the final qualifying round of a knockout tournament, but who then enters the main draw when another player withdraws after the tournament has started because of illness or injury. The lucky loser then enters the main draw, normally in place of the withdrawn player. This can only happen until all players in the main draw have started their first match in the tournament.
A lucky loser is a sports player who loses a match in the final qualifying round of a knockout tournament, but who then enters the main draw when another player withdraws after the tournament has started because of illness or injury. The lucky loser then enters the main draw, normally in place of the withdrawn player. This can only happen until all players in the main draw have started their first match in the tournament.
It's not common in male tennis within Association of Tennis Professionals tournament that a lucky loser wins a tournament, Christian Minussi did it in 1991 in Sao Paolo and Sergiey Stakhovsky in Zagreb 2008 
In total 5 people have done it since 1978.
http://www.reference.com/search?q=Lucky+Loser
Accessed January 16, 2009
90 minutes spinning/abs.
20 min easy pace on the treadmill.
129.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Looks can be deceiving...
It is a beautiful day in Marquette! Unfortunately, it is also FREEZING! So much so, that I actually got the call about school being canceled around 10:15 last night. It was awesome being able to sleep in this morning. Usually, on snow days, I am like a kid on Christmas; I can't ever fall back asleep because I am too excited! Anyhow, the temperatures are below zero still. It was -9 when I woke up around 8!
That being said, I went to the gym this morning instead. I don't want this blog to turn into gloom and doom/me complaining all the time, but I do need to vent about one thing. Last Friday, on my day off, I went for a pretty tough ski out at Forestville. It was especially tough because I had my first asthma attack in over 10 years. It was crazy. At first, I thought it was me being out of breath and out of shape, but at the top of a hill, I stood for about 10 minutes and was unable to catch my breath. My lungs were on fire and I was shaking and gasping for air. It was so strange! This morning on the treadmill, the same thing happened. My lung capacity is not what it used to be, which is all the more reason for me to take on this fitness endeavor. I'm not going to use that as an excuse. There are no excuses in this endeavor. I'll keep you posted on that.
AM Workout
45 minutes treadmill, built during run to 7:30 pace, ran 7:30 pace for about 4 minutes and then slowly went back down.
15 minutes of abs
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Race of Life
I was thinking today about how a 10k race is like life. When you start out life, you all start out in a big pack. The pack begins to thin out after a few Ks and you find your groove. In finding that groove, you begin to run the same pace as others around you. When you're near those people, you tend to chat with them a bit and get to know them. Somewhere mid-race, you kick into gear and meet up with a new pack of folks. Some of them want to chat, but now everyone is getting more intense and concentrating more on even breathing; talking only gets in the way. The last 2k are off the hook; you are in the zone and no one exists except for you. After the finish line, the group becomes homogeneous again; slow and fast runners intermingle and tell their stories again.
The point of this whole vignette? I was thinking about training partners and groups. I've had many in my day, and I feel that this blog is the start of a new sort of training partner. Today, however, I would like to concentrate on someone that I ran a lot of that race of life with.
I had the most amazing training partner in college. We started training together in the summers. We spent hours on the track and in the gym. My training partner made our workouts something to look forward to. We sang through our runs, made crazy shirts and sports bras, and spent summer mornings laughing together. Along the way, we fell in (and out) of love, so we cried together. Then we laughed together a little more. My training partner and I didn't always run the same speed for intervals, but our lives were on the same track. My training partner became a life coach. Then, one day, our paces changed. Eventually, we began to enter separate races and we ran across the globe, away from each other. Now, we probably aren't running races of life....maybe we're playing rugby or lacrosse or something that doesn't even look like a running race anymore. I wave at my training partner from the sidelines from time to time...but hopefully I'll join her team and we can play together soon.
Until then, I run this trail alone...everyone else is focusing on breathing and running their own race...
PS. Actually, I didn't run at all today. I'm sitting on the couch, drinking hot chocolate. :(
The point of this whole vignette? I was thinking about training partners and groups. I've had many in my day, and I feel that this blog is the start of a new sort of training partner. Today, however, I would like to concentrate on someone that I ran a lot of that race of life with.
I had the most amazing training partner in college. We started training together in the summers. We spent hours on the track and in the gym. My training partner made our workouts something to look forward to. We sang through our runs, made crazy shirts and sports bras, and spent summer mornings laughing together. Along the way, we fell in (and out) of love, so we cried together. Then we laughed together a little more. My training partner and I didn't always run the same speed for intervals, but our lives were on the same track. My training partner became a life coach. Then, one day, our paces changed. Eventually, we began to enter separate races and we ran across the globe, away from each other. Now, we probably aren't running races of life....maybe we're playing rugby or lacrosse or something that doesn't even look like a running race anymore. I wave at my training partner from the sidelines from time to time...but hopefully I'll join her team and we can play together soon.
Until then, I run this trail alone...everyone else is focusing on breathing and running their own race...
PS. Actually, I didn't run at all today. I'm sitting on the couch, drinking hot chocolate. :(
Monday, January 12, 2009
One more time...seriously this time...
If you are reading this, then you know that I have changed the address for this blog. If you are reading this, you are also someone that I trust with my opinions, thoughts, views, etc. I hope that we can keep this sort of relationship through this blog. Even if no one out there in WebLand is reading this, I still feel like it is going to keep me accountable for my goals and actions.
“Here she goes again…” you say, “last year around this time, she decided she was running Grand Island. She talked about how it would be this big comeback.” Well, guess what- I couldn’t really make a comeback if I never was anything huge. Plus I didn’t train for the race. It was fun running a marathon “off the couch”, but I think it contributed to my injury laster in the fall. What I do realize is that I want to make a comeback to what I was before. Now, I will never be a college athlete with all the time in the world to work out, so now it is time to set MUCH SMALLER GOALS and work it into the schedule of a real-life adult. Not only do I have a full time job, but I am also a full time student this semester. I am hoping to finish my M.A. Ed. in December 2010. So far, I am on track, but unfortunately, my physical fitness is not. I don’t expect to be where I used to be but I do expect to be in a place that I can be satisfied with. I miss my muscles. The places that use to “ripple” when I walk now “jiggle.” I am not obsessed with my weight, but I feel like I’m not doing as well as I could be. Going a week or two in between exercise sessions is not acceptable. At this point in time, I am not an athlete; I am a schoolteacher with a lot of expensive equipment that I dust of every once in a while for a big race or epic weekend excursion. This is fine, but these big events would be a helluva lot more comfortable if I did a little something in between. I had a wake-up call this fall when I ran a half-marathon without training and sustained an IT band injury. It was the first race I ever dropped out of (I think).
So here are my 2 goals:
Short term: To train for and run a 10k. Sounds easy enough, but can I have the follow through to run 4-5 days a week? I know I can finish the race, but I would love to do it without feeling that my lungs will explode.
Longer term: Develop an exercise routine that fits into my new lifestyle and feel less lazy.
Speaking of lazy, I hate to cut this off, but I need to get to sleep…another long day ahead of me tomorrow- unless we have a snow day!
“Here she goes again…” you say, “last year around this time, she decided she was running Grand Island. She talked about how it would be this big comeback.” Well, guess what- I couldn’t really make a comeback if I never was anything huge. Plus I didn’t train for the race. It was fun running a marathon “off the couch”, but I think it contributed to my injury laster in the fall. What I do realize is that I want to make a comeback to what I was before. Now, I will never be a college athlete with all the time in the world to work out, so now it is time to set MUCH SMALLER GOALS and work it into the schedule of a real-life adult. Not only do I have a full time job, but I am also a full time student this semester. I am hoping to finish my M.A. Ed. in December 2010. So far, I am on track, but unfortunately, my physical fitness is not. I don’t expect to be where I used to be but I do expect to be in a place that I can be satisfied with. I miss my muscles. The places that use to “ripple” when I walk now “jiggle.” I am not obsessed with my weight, but I feel like I’m not doing as well as I could be. Going a week or two in between exercise sessions is not acceptable. At this point in time, I am not an athlete; I am a schoolteacher with a lot of expensive equipment that I dust of every once in a while for a big race or epic weekend excursion. This is fine, but these big events would be a helluva lot more comfortable if I did a little something in between. I had a wake-up call this fall when I ran a half-marathon without training and sustained an IT band injury. It was the first race I ever dropped out of (I think).
So here are my 2 goals:
Short term: To train for and run a 10k. Sounds easy enough, but can I have the follow through to run 4-5 days a week? I know I can finish the race, but I would love to do it without feeling that my lungs will explode.
Longer term: Develop an exercise routine that fits into my new lifestyle and feel less lazy.
Speaking of lazy, I hate to cut this off, but I need to get to sleep…another long day ahead of me tomorrow- unless we have a snow day!
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