<?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-36975908</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:20:15.147-05:00</updated><category term='Quiz'/><title type='text'>Kevin's Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-7307589016988245494</id><published>2008-06-05T16:10:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T17:54:34.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ovid</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhsb05fAwI/AAAAAAAAACk/4ZUxQKIWYMk/s1600-h/DSC_0838.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208532194365997826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhsb05fAwI/AAAAAAAAACk/4ZUxQKIWYMk/s320/DSC_0838.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bethany trains horses for a family in Ballston Spa. They own a number of Gypsie Cob horses. Housed in the barn with the six horses are a number of barn cats. It's important to note that these barn cats--numbering somewhere in the 20s--are not pets. I would consider them semi-domesticated at best. They are there because they form a symbiotic relationship with the working farm. They get a good place to live, and the farm gets a very effective rodent control team. Still, most of the cats in the barn do not let people approach them. Some do, though very cautiously. All that said, in an attempt to control the population of cats in the barn, many of them have been spayed or neutered. However, because they are not pets, it's difficult to assure that all of them have been taken care of. So, from what I understand, this time of year often yields a litter of kittens in the barn. &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhs07Qd5SI/AAAAAAAAACs/PPhtXCCtH5M/s1600-h/DSC_0807.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208532625569735970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhs07Qd5SI/AAAAAAAAACs/PPhtXCCtH5M/s320/DSC_0807.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People often have a warm and fuzzy mental schema about how cute and cuddly kittens are raised by their mommy cat. They have images in their minds about these cute little fuzzballs hanging from their mothers' teets. While this does happen, there is another side of the situation as well. Sometimes, the mother decides that she cannot effectively care for all of the kittens. In this case, she often takes them out to a field and leaves them to fend for themselves. One of the owners talks about how she will go out for a walk in the field and find dead kittens that have been left by their mothers. Nature's way of controlling the population, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208533131122294578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhtSWllvzI/AAAAAAAAAC0/84Wmh1FUJSs/s320/DSC_0821.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Apparently, there were two separate litters of kittens in the barn this year. One, the owners have known about for a while. The other litter was discovered just a week or so ago. On Sunday, Bethany was in the barn with Kelly, who owns Farleigh, and they discovered this little kitten:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhgTSH5_yI/AAAAAAAAAB8/5ehEfAVL4P0/s1600-h/DSC_0981.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208518853452758818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhgTSH5_yI/AAAAAAAAAB8/5ehEfAVL4P0/s320/DSC_0981.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As of today, it is estimated that he is around 5 weeks old. Apparently, he had been brought down from the upstairs loft in the barn where most of the kittens are born. I don't know if the mother was planning to leave it or if it was just bringing it down to teach it to hunt or something. What I do know is that Bethany and Kelly decided that he needed to be rescued. Of course, Bethany already has two cats at her apartment, and can't have any more. So, basically, it was decided that he would live with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I have never wanted to own a cat before. In fact, most of my life I've been of the opinion that I would never own a cat. I hate cats! But, alas--and you can actually credit Rachael for planting this seed in me months ago--I am now the owner of a cute little barn kitten. Actually, I consider it to me Bethany's and my kitten. He just lives with me because that's the way it has to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEht0miAqrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ra-mZQbRP4U/s1600-h/DSC_0233.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208533719517801138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEht0miAqrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ra-mZQbRP4U/s320/DSC_0233.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, for the first couple of days, Bethany had him at her apartment (because I don't live anywhere near the gypsy farm). I think that the experience at Bethany's apartment was very difficult for him. He was constantly being attacked by Bethany's other cats. (It should be noted here that Lois was born in the same barn...either last year or the year before.) Cats are very territorial. Bethany's spent a lot of time hissing and growling at my poor little boy. Eh...it kind of sucks because the last day he was there, at least one of the cats seemed to be warming up to him a bit...progress, you know...Well, he's going to be visiting there often enough, so hopefully they will continue to grow accustomed to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, now I've got him home at my house. So far, he hasn't explored my apartment that much. Last night--his first night here--he stayed in the bathroom the whole night. I don't really see this as a bad thing. I've come to realize that my apartment is a huge, huge world for such a little creature (he pretty much fits into the palm of my hand). So, four rooms is probably a little overwhelming for him. So, I had taken him to the bathroom because that's where I set up the litter box. I am trying to make sure he learns to use the litter box (I think he's actually got it at this point). So, he never even tried to leave the bathroom last night, and actually, that bathroom is probably just the right size to function as a home for an animal that size. In the bathroom, there is a radiator in one corner by the sink. Two walls, the radiator, and the sink make this cozy little nook that is just big enough for him to sneak into and hide. He slept there last night, and is still sleeping there now. &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhlb-IL_HI/AAAAAAAAACM/GhmZ02JwZgM/s1600-h/DSC_0991.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208524500262190194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhlb-IL_HI/AAAAAAAAACM/GhmZ02JwZgM/s320/DSC_0991.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should say that he did actually venture out and explore the apartment earlier today. He's very curious. But, he still likes that little nook more than any other place. Granted, he's not going to be able to live there very long. As you can see, that's going to be a big enough spot for him for about one or two more weeks! I'm sure he'll find some other place after that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, it's very interesting having to teach an animal that until just a few days ago was pretty much wild to do simple basic things. Like I said before, I had to teach him about the litter box. Now, from what I understand, it's actually basic instinct for a cat to bury their waste in order to ward off predators. For the last couple of days, we've needed to show him where the litter box is and show him how to dig in the litter. It's actually funny to watch him dig. He's getting pretty good at it, though not very good at covering up what he's done, which is the whole point to begin with, ha, ha! Anyway, beyond that, I also had to teach him how to eat solid food. He's just transitioning from formula to solids now. I have been soaking hard food in water or formula to make it soft for him, though I think I'm actually going to try to give him just solid food pretty soon (it's better for them--their dental health). Even this morning, I had to show him where his food was. We were sitting right next to the food dish, yet he seemed like he was trying to nurse (trying to grab and suck on my fingers and toes). So, I directed him to the food dish and he was able to eat. I also still have to show him the water dish and make sure he drinks water. I don't think he really understands the concept of drinking water yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other cool thing I'm trying to help him learn about is his natural hunting instincts. Bethany gave me these little mouse toys that are perfect for this. I just chuck the little mouse against a wall near him and watch him go at it. Even though he doesn't really need to know how to hunt anymore, I think it's important to teach him just for the sake of socialization...it's something that he and I can bond over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhoSGTTNSI/AAAAAAAAACU/MhbIXpe1vBU/s1600-h/DSC_0988.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208527629192475938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhoSGTTNSI/AAAAAAAAACU/MhbIXpe1vBU/s320/DSC_0988.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So, I've been commissioned to give him a name. People in the know keep asking me what I'm naming him. I came up with a name. Bethany doesn't like it. But, it suits both him and me. I've studied poetry for a number of years now. So, naturally, I wanted to come up with a literary name for him. I actually thought about naming him Homer, but that had way too much of a Simpsons flavor to it, and I didn't want to give off that impression. So, I went with Ovid instead. Ovid was a latin poet who wrote the epic mythological poem, Metamorphoses. But, what about metamorphoses? Well, he was born a barn cat, now he's a house cat. That's quite a metamorphosis. I never thought I'd own a cat in my entire life. Now I do. That's quite a metamorphosis as well. Ten or so years ago, one of my grandparents' friends said I'd never amount to anything more than a factory worker making $10 an hour. Now, I'm well on my way to earning my second terminal degree. Metamorphosis? Yes, I think. So, Ovid is the perfect name.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If that doesn't convince you, I submit that it is a great tradition in this country to create affectionate names for people by changing the end of their names so that they end with a "y" sound. Bob becomes Bobby; Edward becomes Eddie; Jill becomes Jilly. With that in mind, you can take Ovid's name and modify it in the same way. Then it becomes Ovie. Ovie is the nickname of Alexander Ovechkin, who is the star player for the Washington Capitals, my favorite sports team! Yay, Ovie!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208530886569990914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhrPs-nmwI/AAAAAAAAACc/V9sGMRD3QZk/s320/DSC_0975.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-7307589016988245494?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/7307589016988245494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=7307589016988245494' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/7307589016988245494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/7307589016988245494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2008/06/ovid.html' title='Ovid'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/SEhsb05fAwI/AAAAAAAAACk/4ZUxQKIWYMk/s72-c/DSC_0838.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-8014486102617014091</id><published>2008-05-11T15:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T16:02:17.744-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trading Your Gas Guzzler</title><content type='html'>Here is the reference to the article about which I am about to rant: &lt;a href="http://biz.yahoo.com/brn/080502/25295.html?.v=1&amp;amp;.pf=family-home"&gt;http://biz.yahoo.com/brn/080502/25295.html?.v=1&amp;amp;.pf=family-home&lt;/a&gt; You can also find the same article here: &lt;a href="http://www.bankrate.com/yho/news/car-advice/20080502_gas_guzzler_cost_a1.asp?prodtype=auto"&gt;http://www.bankrate.com/yho/news/car-advice/20080502_gas_guzzler_cost_a1.asp?prodtype=auto&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terry Jackson's article entitled, "Trading in Gas Guzzler May Cost You" is misleading at best. He uses a convenient (for him) scenario, the only practical application of which is to support his opinion. He compares a paid-off, non-hybrid SUV to a brand new hybrid SUV. If a person wants to save money in the real world, this is not the trade they are going to make. First of all, most people live with the reality of car payments. Therefore, that Ford Expedition that Jackson wants to trade in is probably still going to have payments. Factor that into the equation and see how it comes out. Furthermore, if I wanted to save money, I wouldn't go and buy the same type of vehicle. What if someone traded a Ford Expedition (with payments) for a new Honda Civic? My Civic, which I bought brand new costs me $211 per month and gets a reported 38mpg (I received $500 in trade-in value from my previous Saturn in order to get that monthly payment). What would be the savings profile then, of a comparison between a Ford Expedition with payments vs. a Honda Civic with payments? The question then becomes a matter for the consumer of, "Do I really need to be driving an SUV and why?" Because, an SUV costing you about $450 per month will cost you $5400 per year, whereas my vehicle costs me $2532. Also, as Jackson notes, an Expedition spends about $3500 per year in gas, whereas mine would use less than half that (based on the fact that an Expedition gets 16 miles per gallon whereas mine gets 38). So, let’s give the Expedition the benefit of the doubt and say that my gas expense is exactly half of its, then do the math. $5400 - $2532 = $2868. $3500 - $1750 = $1750. Thus, the combined savings of payment + gas, $2868 + $1750 = $4618. And that is what consumers really need to be considering. Sports Utility Vehicles really don't have much practical utility in modern society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there’s this: you see all those forwarded emails about how we can affect the price of gas by forwarding an email to 10 people telling them to use a certain brand of gas on a certain day, and that if we could only get 3 million people to do this it would force some price war between companies and they would lower their prices…yada, yada, yada…Well, what if, instead of that, every person who owned an SUV that can’t come up with a legitimate reason for why they absolutely need to have it (people can learn to drive without 4-wheel drive in the snow--I've been doing it for 16 years without incident, and have never even bought a set of snow tires...the powers that be simply know how to market to the masses, and the masses simply believe them!!) traded in their vehicle for something that got twice the gas mileage? That would have a significant impact on demand across the board and would have a much stronger effect on prices than a email chain gimmick!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-8014486102617014091?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/8014486102617014091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=8014486102617014091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/8014486102617014091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/8014486102617014091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2008/05/trading-your-gas-guzzler.html' title='Trading Your Gas Guzzler'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-1095770138530288901</id><published>2008-03-06T10:17:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T10:36:41.752-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quiz'/><title type='text'>Stacey's quiz</title><content type='html'>Stacey posted this groovy quiz on her blog. The deal is that you do this quiz, post it on your blog, then link it back to the person you got it from thusly: &lt;a href="http://highonthehog.us/index.php/site/comments/tagging/"&gt;http://highonthehog.us/index.php/site/comments/tagging/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five things on my to-do list today:&lt;br /&gt;1. Take a shower&lt;br /&gt;2. Go ice skating&lt;br /&gt;3. Meet with my advisor&lt;br /&gt;4. Read for class&lt;br /&gt;5. Call Keene High School.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I would do if I became a billionaire:&lt;br /&gt;1. Buy Stacey's house&lt;br /&gt;2. Set up some children that I know with college funds&lt;br /&gt;3. Buy a house by the ocean&lt;br /&gt;4. Travel around the world&lt;br /&gt;5. Two chicks at the same time. (good for you if you get that!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 bad habits:&lt;br /&gt;1. procrastination&lt;br /&gt;2. saying I will call someone and then not&lt;br /&gt;3. being disorganized&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 places I have lived:&lt;br /&gt;1. Albany, NY&lt;br /&gt;2. Keene, NH&lt;br /&gt;3. Windsor, VT&lt;br /&gt;4. Manassas, VA&lt;br /&gt;5. Alexandria, VA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jobs I have had:&lt;br /&gt;1. Graduate Assistant&lt;br /&gt;2. Special Education Tutor&lt;br /&gt;3. Factory Worker&lt;br /&gt;4. Coffee Slinger&lt;br /&gt;5. Receiving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things people don’t know about me:&lt;br /&gt;1. I have an associates degree in chemical dependency&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm not going to be a school counselor&lt;br /&gt;3. Just like Stacey, I also always leave a little bit of food on my plate&lt;br /&gt;4. Every piece of furniture I have in my apartment was given to me by a friend, except for my dresser, which was given to me by my mother.&lt;br /&gt;5. I played on my school's basketball team in 7th grade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-1095770138530288901?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/1095770138530288901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=1095770138530288901' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/1095770138530288901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/1095770138530288901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2008/03/staceys-quiz.html' title='Stacey&apos;s quiz'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-4683393522869992917</id><published>2007-03-02T22:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T22:34:31.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Done</title><content type='html'>I'm finally finished with interviews for PhD programs.  Today I had my last one.  Well, actually it was an interview for a PsyD program, not a PhD program.  PsyD's are more applied rather than research oriented.  Which is kind of what I should do anyway.  So, that was at the State University of New York at Albany.  I think the interview went well.  But, I always think the interview goes well.  In truth, I have no clue.  But, I'll know by sometime next week.  But, that's finally over with and I'm glad.  Not that it has improved my nerves yet.  To be honest, I got home a little while ago and started feeling so intense...I don't really know why.  I was just edgy and pacing around my apartment.  Just boiling over mentally.  So, I went for a brisk walk around icy Keene.  I just got back from that a bit ago and have just taken some nice herbal stuff that tastes like ass that Stacey Leigh gave me that's supposed to help me sleep.  So, I'm waiting a bit for that to work it's magic a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so theory: I'm really edgy because it's kind of a release from all the tension and all the anxiety that's been building up over months and months of this application to schools process.  Now that's over and the energy is getting released.  Of course, there could be other stuff as well!  Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, take for example the fact that my first packet for my damn manuscript semester of my MFA is due on Tuesday and I haven't written any poems for it yet.  So, I need five of those over the next couple of days.  That's my next order of business.  And I'm treating it so much like "order of business" that I'm not in the right frame of mind to do it.  And I've been in such a business-like disposition for so long that now it's like...what?  I'm a writer too?  What are you talking about?  I just need to get myself into a wicked quick mindset overhaul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that one person at least will read this.  Thank you for spending time with me while I was in Albany.  Thanks for showing me around, thanks for making me food, thanks for giving me a care package with all those nice treats, thanks for having me over, thanks to the little one for letting me play trains with him, and I want to see those pictures!  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-4683393522869992917?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/4683393522869992917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=4683393522869992917' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/4683393522869992917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/4683393522869992917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2007/03/done.html' title='Done'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-8320300826025264009</id><published>2007-02-28T17:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T17:25:20.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Choke Me In The Shallow Water Before I Get Too Deep</title><content type='html'>So, tomorrow I'm off to Albany for the last of my school psychology PhD interviews.  I'll just be glad to get that over with.  Well, I should say that the interview isn't until Friday morning, but I'm going on Thursday to hang out with Stacey Leigh and her son, Jacob for the afternoon.  But, I just want to be past the stress of doing all of these interviews.  They really take a toll on me.  They've even started to affect me physically.  You know how you always get butterflies in your stomach whenever you get really stressed about something?  I have butterflies in my stomach 24 hours a day 7 days a week now.  Constant.  At any moment of any day, I can feel the anxiety over something just swell up inside of me and tighten my insides in a knot.  So, I'm at the point where I don't even care if I get into the damn school; I just want to be done with interviewing.  I also want to be done with not knowing.  2006 was such a crazy year for me because I was in a constant state of not knowing what my life was going to be like in a year or six months.  Now, I'm getting to the point where I feel like I need to have some resolution to those questions.  The uncertainty about my life has had such effects...Ever tried thinking about relationships when you don't even know if you're going to be around in a couple of months?  Yeah, what's the point?  So, I don't even think about those sorts of things anymore, to my dismay.  What's the point of starting a relationship with someone in New Hampshire when I might be living in fucking Georgia in six months?  Pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, anyhow, now I'm starting to wonder what happens if I don't get into any PhD program.  It's certainly a possibility.  I'm relatively certain that South Florida and Georgia are out of the question.  Berkeley is a no go.  That leaves Albany or bust.  So, if it's bust, then what?  Well, I've started to explore those options.  The most prominent of these is that I could get teacher certified and teach.  That seems like it would be a pretty good option for me.  I could apply for something called an "Alternative 4" which basically means that the state has a "critical shortage" in a certain teaching area (in this case special ed.) and I could start working without certification, then take courses while I'm teaching in order to get certified.  I think they give you something like 3 years to get it done.  Then, because I have an MFA in Poetry (or will), I would be highly qualified to teach English and that would be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some other options: I could do the Autism Certification program at Antioch--which would take 9 months--then try applying to PhD programs again.  That would basically be a resume builder for me.  I could try to get into a master's program in school psychology.  The reason that I would do this instead of a PhD program would be because I want to work in a school setting as a school psychologist.  You can do that with a masters.  The benefit of getting a PhD is that it opens up the door for the opportunity to work in a university setting an do research.  Which is a nice option to have, but the question I need to answer is, is that necessary for me?  I'm more of a hands on person.  Some more "out there" options would be to try to get into a PhD program for English, or a PhD program in some other field of psychology.  The benefit of those options are that I could apply to start in the winter semester.  School psychology programs only admit in the fall.  Also, in lieu of teacher certification, I could enroll in the masters of education program at Keene State.  Another option would be just to try to find a job as an editor.  I could probably swing that with my MFA.  So, anyway, those are the options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, Stacey sent me an email saying that she didn't think I'd be interested in doing teacher certification.  I think it may have been because of the tone that I put into my email to her about it.  But, that tone was more because of all the applying and hoop-jumping that I'd have to do.  I've done so much of that lately, that honestly, I'm just weary of it.  I'm weary in general.  I don't want to go through any more beaurocracy.  I don't.  I just want to be.  But, I'd love to teach.  That would be so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, one question that Stacey asked me was what I wanted to be.  I don't think it's a matter of what I want to be.  I am what I am......ok, let me de-popeye-ify that: what I am is what I am.  The question is what career can I find that fits what I am.  And what I am is a giver...a helper.  You know, on my trip to Florida and back recently I spent time at my friend Julie's house and got to hang out with her kids a lot.  Kids respond to me.  I have this unusual rapport with them.  Like...my instincts with kids....I'm weird that way.  A strange twist of fate is that I have terrible, disasterous...I mean titanical instincts when it comes to women.  But, when it comes to their kids, somehow I have a midas touch.  Anyway, point being is that I should be in a career that involves children.  It is just the right place for me to be.  So, at least I have that much figured out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-8320300826025264009?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.amazon.com/Shooting-Rubberbands-Stars-Brickell-Bohemians/dp/B000000OQW/sr=1-1/qid=1172699997/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-4233281-6206508?ie=UTF8&amp;s=music' title='Choke Me In The Shallow Water Before I Get Too Deep'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/8320300826025264009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=8320300826025264009' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/8320300826025264009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/8320300826025264009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2007/02/choke-me-in-shallow-water-before-i-get.html' title='Choke Me In The Shallow Water Before I Get Too Deep'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-144275033957425545</id><published>2007-02-28T11:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T11:26:09.072-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today, I Had Probably the Most Important Epiphany of My Life...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I can put the little IBlaster iPod orb in my bathroom and jam out when I'm in the shower! This changes everything. Now for every myspace survey that comes around asking if I dance or sing in the shower, I will have to say "Yes, yes I do!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Stir it up. Little darlin' Stir it up...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036621799676656754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/ReWs13W3PHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/wjiFmWbS_gc/s320/000_0207.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-144275033957425545?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/144275033957425545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=144275033957425545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/144275033957425545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/144275033957425545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2007/02/today-i-had-probably-most-important.html' title='Today, I Had Probably the Most Important Epiphany of My Life...'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/ReWs13W3PHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/wjiFmWbS_gc/s72-c/000_0207.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-5064622862326372787</id><published>2007-02-28T11:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T11:17:31.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Can't I Come Up With Images Like This?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HWQqgisAuMA/ReWpC3W3PFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jmv3bRD2e0U/s1600-h/000_0208.jpg"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess it's because I'm not Yehuda Amichai...the emphasis (bold type) in the penultimate stanza is mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Letter" by Yehuda Amichai&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To sit on the veranda of a hotel in Jerusalem&lt;br /&gt;and to write: Sweetly pass the days&lt;br /&gt;from desert to sea. And to write: Tears, here,&lt;br /&gt;dry quickly. This little blot&lt;br /&gt;is a tear that has melted ink. That's how&lt;br /&gt;they wrote a hundred years ago. I have&lt;br /&gt;drawn a circle around it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Time passes--somebody on a telephone&lt;br /&gt;who is laughing or weeping far away from me:&lt;br /&gt;What I hear, I don't see.&lt;br /&gt;What I see, I don't hear.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We were not careful when we said "next year"&lt;br /&gt;or "a month ago." These words are like&lt;br /&gt;glass splinters, which you can hurt yourself with,&lt;br /&gt;or cut veins. People do things like that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But you were beautiful, like the interpretation&lt;br /&gt;of ancient books.&lt;br /&gt;Surplus of women in your far country&lt;br /&gt;brought you to me, but&lt;br /&gt;other statistics have taken you&lt;br /&gt;away from me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To live is to build a ship and a harbor&lt;br /&gt;at the same time. And to complete the harbor&lt;br /&gt;long after the ship has sunk.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And to finish: I remember only&lt;br /&gt;that there was mist. And whoever&lt;br /&gt;remembers only mist--&lt;br /&gt;what does he remember?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-5064622862326372787?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/5064622862326372787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=5064622862326372787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/5064622862326372787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/5064622862326372787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2007/02/why-cant-i-come-up-with-images-like.html' title='Why Can&apos;t I Come Up With Images Like This?'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116601163186162443</id><published>2006-12-13T06:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T07:07:11.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Winged Intruder Batman!</title><content type='html'>So, last night I climbed into bed relatively early--about ten o'clock and figured that I'd get a good eight hours sleep anyway...Then, about 10:30, over the hum of the heater which kind of acts as white noise, blocking out most distracting sounds, I start hearing these weird noises like something bumping around on the roof.  I thought that maybe some kind of animal was up there--you know, like a squirrel or something.  But, then I thought maybe it was nothing but the heater making weird noises.  I quickly put that out of my mind when I started determining that a lot of the noises were coming from directly over my head--I have a sky light right over top of where I sleep.  So, I waited somewhat nervously for the heater to stop running to see if I could get a better grasp of what it was that I was dealing with once there was silence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't need the audio help.  After kind of staring up toward the ceiling for about 30 seconds I got my answer.  I saw a movement--not outside on the skylight, mind you, but rather inside my apartment.  It was a swooping movement coming from the general location of my front door and moving toward me.  I knew right away what it was.  A bat.  Yes, I had a bat flying around in my apartment.  And, of course, I don't have a huge apartment.  It's actually a loft and it's not much bigger than the size of a college dorm.  Stacey, you can think "Owl's Nest" and you will have it pretty close in terms of size. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so I sprang up out of bed and darted over to turn on the lights.  Then, I through open my front door and propped open the storm door and proceeded to try to shew the thing out.  Of course, anytime it got close to the opening, it didn't want to go out.  It's cold outside.  The whole reason that it was in my apartment to begin with was  because it wanted to be in a warm place.  So, after doing this little dance with it for about an hour--I had also opened the one window in my place that opens--I decided that I needed to change my tactic.  Now, if you've never tried to get a bat out of your house, it's hard to appreciate how difficult it is to get near enough to them to actually influence their pattern of flight or to get them to do anything in particular that you would want.  They sense your motion and fly away from you.  Like, they'll fly in your direction until you move the slightest bit, then will veer away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to re-strategize.  By this time, the thing must have been getting tired from flying around so much.  So, it started landing.  I decided my best bet was to start throwing things at it.  Because, you know, it was landing on the ceiling, on the curtains way up high, anywhere that I couldn't get to it.  So, I balled up some socks and some shirts and started chucking them at it, hoping that I could aggitate it enough to just fly out.  No, it was just more of the same.  It would take off, then not go out the door or window.  Of course, I still had both open, thinking that eventually, it would be the same temperature in my apartment as it was outside, and, not knowing the difference between in and out at that point, it might just randomly go out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, through a long process of trial and error, I discovered that if you peg it hard enough with a balled up sock, it will be stunned, fly to the ground and sit there for a couple of minutes.  So, I balled up a tee-shirt for a little extra umph, chucked it at the curtain on which it was resting, and bullseye!  It circled to the ground and was just laying there by my kitchen sink.  So, I grabbed a sheet and threw it over the little guy.  Then, I balled him up in it and ran it to the door, hucked it over the railing and watched it sail down to the yard.  For any animal advocate out there, I can say with certainty that the bat did not get hurt in the confrontation.  I witnessed it take off and fly away after the sheet hit the ground. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the long and the short of it: I missed out on a couple hours of sleep last night because I was doing battle with a bat in my apartment......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116601163186162443?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116601163186162443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116601163186162443' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116601163186162443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116601163186162443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/12/holy-winged-intruder-batman.html' title='Holy Winged Intruder Batman!'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116601055090527934</id><published>2006-12-13T06:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T06:49:10.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>After a Conversation About Mythology</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/638/4144/1600/154682/Books.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/638/4144/320/864147/Books.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture that I took after a long conversation with Stacey Leigh about ancient literature and some of the books that made a large contribution to humanity.  This is what I do.  We start talking about these books and I immediately go and dig them up, then walk around with them for a while thumbing through, then throw them on a pile on my bed.  There probably ought to be a Bible in that pile as well.  I'm surprised there's not, although if you look really, really closely at the top right corner of the picture, you will see the spine of a few significant volumes including, "The Other Bible" which is a collection of Christian and Jewish apocrypha, Islamic scripture and other ancient texts, the DSM IV-TR, and "Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems" by Galileo Galilei.  I'm thinking that since I'm finished with all my required reading for the semester and have a few weeks before residency, I should maybe crack into the Aenid.  That's the one volume of greek/roman mythology that's not going to be directly in my path to read any time soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116601055090527934?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116601055090527934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116601055090527934' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116601055090527934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116601055090527934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/12/after-conversation-about-mythology.html' title='After a Conversation About Mythology'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116416314906309294</id><published>2006-11-21T21:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T21:40:02.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yosemite: Now With Visual Pictures!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/4144/1600/yosemite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/638/4144/320/yosemite.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is a cool picture that I took from the top of Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park in California. It was cold as balls that day! There is a picture of me standing near this same spot...it's a color picture. I look really gnarly. Anyway, I thought this little tree looked like a bonzai tree. I found it interesting because you can find postcards of Yosemite Park with this exact tree in it. Notice, in the distance the iconic Half Dome. That appears on the back of the California quarter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, basically, I just wanted to post this picture so if I talk to Stacey about how to do this, I will have had the experience of actually doing it, and therefore know what I'm talking about when trying to walk her through it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116416314906309294?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116416314906309294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116416314906309294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116416314906309294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116416314906309294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/11/yosemite-now-with-visual-pictures.html' title='Yosemite: Now With Visual Pictures!'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116359322455857690</id><published>2006-11-15T07:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T07:20:24.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brains</title><content type='html'>One cool thing about working in a high school is that every once in a while I get to participate in these little assessment exercises that the kids do in class.  Yesterday in Biology we did this questionnaire to figure out whether we were right brained or left-brained.  It was just a bunch of questions like, "I like to be organized" and things like that...Well, the short version is that I came out to be middle-brained.  Which, of course, is something that I've known all along, but it was good to get validation of that.  I think that most people I know either see one side of that or the other.  People usually don't see both sides.  For anyone who doesn't know, people who are right-brained tend to be more artistic in nature while people who are left-brained tend to be more logical.  We in the middle exhibit some characteristics of both.  So, I was very happy to see that I was a middle-brained person.  That must mean I'm well-rounded!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, so one more quick thing before I go off to work: apparently, I'm getting married soon.  One of the girls from work--the OT, Hannah--has decided that I have to marry her friend.  She is setting up this Christmas dinner thing with a bunch of her girl friends and invited me so that I could meet her friend.  She says that instead of bringing some dish, I could just bring a ring!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116359322455857690?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116359322455857690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116359322455857690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116359322455857690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116359322455857690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/11/brains.html' title='Brains'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116338272743731301</id><published>2006-11-12T20:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T20:52:07.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Week in Review</title><content type='html'>I've been wanting to write a blog about so many things that happened over the last week, but just havne't gotten around to it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday, I had a reunion dinner of sorts with Jeff Friedman and some of the girls from our poetry class that we had my last year of undergrad.  It's interesting, all of us pretty much met in that class, but have, to a degree kept in touch.  So, it was me, Leni, Laura and Sara.  Laura was sort of a surprise addition to the party.  None of us had heard from her in a while.  Then, out of the blue, she ran into Leni somewhere around town and it was discovered that the two of them lived on the same street.  Go figure.  That street, by the way, is about two blocks away from where I live.  It certainly is a small world living in New Hampshire.  So, the only non-townie these days is Sara.  She's the one who just recently was accepted into our MFA program.  She knows Laura pretty well, I guess, so when I told her that she was going to be there, she was very eager to go.  Well, the dinner was pretty fun.  We sat around and gossiped mostly.  It was good to have us all in one place together at one time.  The only person who was missing, really, from our little group that we had in that poetry class was Claire.  So, we talked about Claire a bit.  I'm beginning to understand that Claire is not very well-liked by a lot of the girls that I know.  I wonder what it is about that???  Even Jeff sort of hinted at the idea that she was not the kind of girl that I ought to be associating with, although his idea was a much more benevolent one--like, well, you're just two different kinds of people.  Whereas Leni just flat out said, I don't think Claire is a person who I would get along with.  That's not the first time I've heard that one.  But, I have to admit...I think that Claire is one of those "femme fatale" girls.  I think every guy has one.  The girl that you should not associate with.  The "wrong one".  But, you cannot resist.  I think Claire is that one for me.  I know that she is not the kind of girl I should be putting energy into.  But, you know, I'd be right there at the drop of a hat if the opportunity presented itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so it was a good dinner...good to see all those people again.  But, it kind of got in the way of another important piece of my life that was going on...I had to mail off my MFA packet the next day and hadn't done any work on it.  So, I had a drink at dinner, which didn't really put me in a mood to do the work when I got home at 9:00 o'clock that night.  So, I went to bed instead.  I set my clock for 3am so that I could do some of it before I went to work.  Then, I finished up the packet after work.  Actually, I'm lucky.  I work with such understanding people.  They let me switch out with another girl and have her go to science with my student so that I could have fourth block to work on my poetry stuff.  So, I worked feverishly on it from 12:30 in the afternoon until 5:00 o'clock and was able to get it all together and get it to UPS to send it next day air to Pittsburgh where my professor lives.  She just called me this afternoon to tell me that she thinks my masters thesis on James Wright is coming along very well and that she's really proud of the work that I'm doing with that.  Which makes me feel good.  Still, I'll be so happy when this semester is over.  James Wright is such a huge influence on my poetry.  But, I feel like I've gone to the depths of hell with him and I'm looking forward to not having to go so deeply into that work.  I think it's keeping me from really finding my own groove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that happened on Monday night, and which made me not want to do my schoolwork is that Jillian called me to tell me that her grandfather had died.  The funeral for him was on Thursday in Montpelier.  So, I went up for that on Thursday morning.  It's a two hour drive from Keene to Montpelier.  And I've never been there before.  When I got there, I basically got lost.  I called Jacob to try and figure out what I was doing...because I got to downtown Montpelier, but couldn't find the road I needed to be on.  And there were churches everywhere!  But, Jacob was no help.  He didn't really have any idea where I was or where to go.  So, I just ended up saying, screw it, I'll just drive around and hope I find it.  I had a hunch which way to go.  I don't know where the hunch came from.  It just did.  So, I went that way.  I found the place within about two minutes.  Right where my hunch led me.  I had a much larger problem finding a place to park.  Jacob's grandfather knew a lot of people!!!  So, all of the relatives from all over the country were there.  People I hadn't seen for years.  It was good seeing all of these people, but, you know, those kinds of crowds really overwhelm me.  So, at the reception, which was at the Knights of Columbus......bunker?......compound?.....on some back road in the middle of nowhere, I just settled into a table with Margaret, Jill, Jill's boyfriend Chris, Aileen, Raymond, Janine and Tim.  The only thing I got up for was food.  Afterwards, I caught a ride with Jacob's mother back to my car, which I had left parked somewhere in the vacinity of the church.  On the way, we stopped by the place where Jacob's mother had grown up.  It was a little apartment in a house.  It was so interesting.  The apartment was so small, with three tiny bedrooms.  This little space housed eight people--Deb and her five siblings, plus two parents.  It was pretty amazing to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, since that, I have done nothing but rest.  I stayed at my mother's house this weekend, and I think I only left to go to breakfast on Saturday morning.  Other than that, I've just been lazing around.  Which is ok.  I think I've earned that for a change...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116338272743731301?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116338272743731301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116338272743731301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116338272743731301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116338272743731301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/11/week-in-review.html' title='The Week in Review'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116338127498197581</id><published>2006-11-12T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T20:27:54.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Water</title><content type='html'>I don't think I've been well this weekend.  Everything is acidy.  Perhaps my body is purging itself of all the stress that I've been experiencing lately.  This is the first weekend where I've just been able to sit around and do absolutely nothing.  Today, I took a nap in the middle of the rainy, cold afternoon.  It was a perfect day for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night wasn't as peaceful.  I woke up in the middle of the night sweating.  It wasn't long before I began feeling nauseous.  Still in a half-sleep stupor, I made my way down to the bathroom expecting the worst.  Nothing happened beyond the feeling of a deep need to lay down on the floor before I passed out.  So, that's what I did.  It didn't help so much...I was lying there feeling like my body was trying to turn itself inside out.  Then--it's hard to explain--there was something inside of me that was just telling me to drink water.  But, it was so far to go from the soft, warmth of the bathroom rug all the way up to the faucet.  I felt like Odysseus crossing the Aegean.  But, I managed to sit up, or rather climb up to my knees and turn on the faucet, cup my hands and fill them with a pool of cool water.  I was in such an awkward position: as I brought the water up to my mouth, I couldn't keep my fleshy cup together, and the water, to a large degree, escaped.  I did manage to get some in my mouth.  And I could feel it work its way down into my stomach.  And then, I could feel it "working".  I don't know what it was working on exactly, but it was working.  So, I took some more.  And some more.  Then, I wiped my wet hands on my forehead and cheeks.  Then, feeling somewhat weary from this exertion, I laid back down on the floor and rested.  Within a few minutes, to my surprise, I began to feel better.  Not better better, but relatively better.  I slowly came to realize that I was not about to rehash the entirety of my daily intake of calories into the toilet.  So, I got up and went to the living room to sleep on the couch--just in case...you know.  I made a stop in the kitchen on the way there and grabbed a bottle of water.  The more water I drank, the better I felt.  Still, it was a rocky night.  I didn't sleep much.  Probably because the couch is not comfortable.  So, that is why I napped today in my cool bed; listening to the sound of my roof catching the drops of rain water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116338127498197581?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116338127498197581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116338127498197581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116338127498197581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116338127498197581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/11/water.html' title='Water'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36975908.post-116255378415236580</id><published>2006-11-03T06:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-04T08:45:00.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grad School Stuff</title><content type='html'>I'm just posting this particular blog to see if it works ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I went and turned in all of the information that my old professors wanted from me so that they could write me letters of recommendation for graduate schools. I sat and talked to Dr. Viveiros for about an hour about all the different aspects of the schools to which I was applying. She seemed to think that I would definitely get in to a couple of schools, though maybe not my top choice. She did say that I was a shoe-in for the SUNY Albany program because it is a PsyD program instead of a PhD program. The difference--which I've discovered by talking to Dr. Baker--is that a PsyD program is more geared towards applied work while the PhD has more research involved. Well, that's what the original difference was. I've been told that now, the difference is becoming less and less so that they are basically the same thing. It's only the reputation associated with each that is different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway, all looks good on that front. This weekend is going to be the get that MFA work done. My next packet is due next Wednesday. No being late this time. So, I have to do another draft of my paper this weekend, which shouldn't be too bad, because Judith has already told me that the paper is well on its way, and that really I'm just touching up and adding some detail here and there. So, that shouldn't be too bad. The kicker is that I still have some reading to do and I only have one poem written. So, I'm looking to the inspiration gods to look favorably down upon me this weekend. I have a Genesh figure on a table here in my apartment that Lea had given me last residency. I'll be rubbing his belly a lot this weekend!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36975908-116255378415236580?l=aybee27.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/feeds/116255378415236580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36975908&amp;postID=116255378415236580' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116255378415236580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36975908/posts/default/116255378415236580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aybee27.blogspot.com/2006/11/grad-school-stuff.html' title='Grad School Stuff'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01813065022157300654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n27/aybee27/People/Frisco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
