Slappy Jones's Locker

I don't live here, anymore

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 20:26:00 +0000

Sometime last year, I packed up all my writing utensils, my backpack, and my books and hied off to a different place. Alas, I no longer live here.

If you wish to read anything I write, I welcome you into my new home. The decor changes now and then, and I'm absent a lot, but the cookies aren't too stale. My furniture isn't all that comfy yet, mostly plastic lawn chairs and egg crates, but they are sturdy and reliable.

So, take a stroll on the dark side, and come visit me at my new home. Have a seat, dip your stale cookie into some milk that is just about ready to turn, and relax. I'll stop by now and then to see how you are doing, drop a funny story or a witty comment, or maybe just a pithy phrase. I may use you as my venting board, but that's ok, you like it. Right? You wouldn't be there if you didn't.

Oh, and leave a comment to let me know you were there. I get lonely.

baby is born!

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 08:00:00 +0000

Had my fifth girl on March 11th at 6:13pm after three hours of labor. Not after three hours of hard labor, or after three hours of painful labor, but three hours after my first contraction. It was a water birth. I used NO DRUGS. I did use hypnobabies. Hypnosis is the bomb yo!

She's adorable. She was 6lbs 6 ounces and 19.25 inches long. Second fattest of my babies. She was 6lbs 7ounces at one week old. Crazy, huh? :) She's going through a growth spurt now and is eating a ton. I am sleepless in Spokane.

Last Post

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 07:07:00 +0000

I just wanted to say I am not blogging here anymore. If you want to continue reading my blogs, such as they are, please walk on over to http://www.dawnolmo.com

Gracias!

Wanna See?

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 06:23:00 +0000

This is my baby. It's dark. I blame the camera (want to buy me a new one?) and photobucket. It's not this dark on my computer...

Old Classmates and New Books

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 02:43:00 +0000

Cheyenne Jackson was a friend of mine from High School. He always was into acting and had a great voice. I have to say that while all the girls lusted after him, I never did. Sure, I thought he was cute and hot and all that, but to me, he was always just a friend. I never thought of him in any other way. I thought about his older brother in lustful ways. OMG, did I ever. Well, I thought of A LOT of guys in other ways, but never him. So, when I was told he was gay (in a shocking voice, as though it was a horrible thing) I just nodded and said, "I thought so." It was just something I'd always wondered about him... The person who told me said, "He always went out with the most beautiful girls in school, but always broke up with them when it got too real." Or something close to that, maybe she said intimate, but this girl isn't the smartest kid in kindergarten, so I could be wrong. I thought back to all the girls I'd known about, and really, she was way too liberal with the word beautiful. This is my catty side coming out, of course, but one of the girls he dated was really really skinny. She looked like a reanimated skeleton. She would not have been beautiful if she'd had fat under that skin, or muscle. I feel mean saying that, because she was beautiful inside, I suppose, though I never got to know her well. Anyway, so it wasn't a big deal to me. I love his website (http://cheyennejackson.com) and wonder who keeps it up. I doubt it is him. So, yeah. Ok. Whatever Dawn, let's get back on track.

Anyway, I dvr'd the early show last friday, cuz he was on it. Damn them waiting until the end of the show to show Xanadu and Cheyenne. But it was neat seeing him on my TV, when before I'd only seen him in my classes, or on stage at school. I was supposed to play his mother in Bye Bye Birdie, but my stepmom was being whorey and didn't want to drive to Newport everyday to pick me up so another girl took the part. I'm not bitter. Really. I left Newport after 10th grade, so I missed any other performances he may have been in...

So it was awesome. Yvonne said, "This looks gay." And then I found this on YouTube and laughed my ass off.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAFpdQ6ZAfA

I love Nathan Lane. I'm a bit jealous of Cheyenne, I'll have to admit it. Such a jerk! :)

I'm kidding. He's never been a jerk. I just wish he'd hurry it up and make it big so that the few things I have from him could be worth something lol. Not that I'd sell the picture of me he drew, or the signature book he said "You can too sing!" in (see, he was always nice) but it'd be nice to frame lol.

Well. Anyway, just wanted to share. It's too bad they were all wearing those fakey underwear. If i was more into broadway and youtube, I'd know who this cubby bernstein fella was. I'm not, and I don't care, really, so I'm not going to bother looking into it.

On a different note, I finally get a chance to read for pleasure and I can't find any books that interest me. There is this one that Theresa at the S. Hill hastings recommended, it says, "Awe inspiring!" on the cover. It is called, Across the Face of the World and not even half-through the book I have found a sentence with the title's name in it. I don't know if the title was the author's idea, or if it was the editor's idea. It doesn't matter... it was a bad one, plus I have not been inspired to awe. I've been inspired to, "Ahhh this is crap," but that's it. The writing is horrible (it feels like something that was never edited for clarity) and the storyline is the same storyline you can find in ANY fantasy book. It is like the author liked the ideas from all the books he's read and tried to incorporate them into one book. It keeps pissing me off. I keep reading it, hoping that maybe it will get better. I am starting to give up hope.

It makes me wonder if it is because I've been ruined by all these creative writing classes, or if it's really bad. Then I remember The Name of the Wind and realize that no, it isn't that. The Name of the Wind is an awesome book. I fell in love with it... so in all likelihood, it's a horrible book.

Um... baby is cruising and crawling. Today she stood up next to the table without holding on. It won't be long before she's walkin'. Yay. She is into EVERYTHING. Her favorite thing to do is to take things out of things. If it's in a box, she empties it, a bag... empty. Anything she gets her hands on, empty. I've also moved her to yvonne's room and moved Yvonne to the girls's room, and she is sleeping all night long. Yay! I get sleep. It is nice.

I'm bored out of my mind.

Looks to be a Good Guide....

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 00:57:00 +0000

Haven't had the chance to read the whole thing yet, but I will. Until then, this is what I'm talking about:

Link (Or you can click on the title)

Blurb:

6. Harshness and critique

This is an unending debate. Let me begin with what I consider to be absolutely unacceptable: personal attacks, racial comments, sexist remarks, and other such idiocy. This is called rudeness. Rudeness is bad. It is different from harshness, because harshness usually has a point and if taken in the right way, can work wonders.

Now, should you be harsh? No, I don’t think so. Firm is better than harsh, but a very fine line separates these two. My rule so far is: if you can’t take someone giving you a critique that is harsh, you certainly shouldn’t be offering a harsh critique to someone else. This said, I would say that harsh critique is acceptable. “Go read a book,” is critique and good critique at that, no matter how much it stings. I would suggest not phrasing it in the same way, and in the event that you feel it is necessary to gear the writer towards better writers, suggest it carefully. Ask what kind of books they read, how often they read, and so on. Suggest books that you think can help them.

A couple of things to consider:

The maturity of the writer: It is important for you to know beforehand whether the writer is capable of taking your criticism or not. Since this is hard to gauge over the Internet (unless you are already familiar with the person whose writing you are critiquing), it is safer to avoid harshness of any kind.

We’re talking about deviantART: There are no moderators who will come swooping down to defend your harsh critique. There are GDs, staff members, and other influential types, yes, but the vastness of the site prevents them from noticing every little quibble.

In conclusion, be honest and firm; try not to be harsh, unless absolutely necessary.

Extra reading:
A discussion at *Amberlouie's journal about harshness in critique; this is my rather personal opinion on the matter

Now this is from deviantart.com and yes, it's based on critiques there, however a lot of it can be digested and diverted into other areas of life. Email critique, blog critique, one on one critique... grad school critique. :)

Chris. You are mean.

Experimentation (Warning! Warning! Bad Stuff for Kids to read!)

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 05:01:00 +0000

I had an idea for a story. It is a horrible story. It came from a dream. Why do I dream like this?

Experimentation

A woman goes out with this nerdy guy at her work to be nice. Somehow, he takes over her mind and she finds herself naked in his shower, then naked in his bed. He comes in with a bucket of liquid metal and tells her to place her legs in it. She says no again and again and blacks out.

She wakes up in a hospital room, drugged and pregnant. She is in an insane asylum and has no idea who she is. The man comes in, rubs her baby bump and sits down. "It's a girl," he says. She smiles at him and feels the baby kick. He has a bag with him, a shopping bag from a well-known shopping center. He takes out a pair of bronzed feet. They remind her of bronzed baby booties, but they are size sevens. She smiles at him uncertainly. Why is he showing her this? He says, "Surely you remember, Barbara." Memories suddenly cascade through her mind.

She sees him over her, pumping into her fiercely while she screams in pain. Her legs ache horribly and feel heavy. He is raping her, and has raped her again and again for the past few weeks. Suddenly he stops, and says, "I can't do it. You're getting rank." He gets off her, covers her up, and finishes on her face. It's quite disgusting. She spits and continues to scream. She tries to sit up and pain encircles her brain. She uncovers herself and stares down in horror at what has become of her legs. Her feet are encased in bronze and just above the metal her legs are shriveled and black. Bright lines of blood flow up her legs, past her knee, nearly to the middle of her thigh. There are maggots feasting freely in the flesh of her calf. Her legs radiate pain like a light bulb radiates light, and she wonders that he can't feel it as well. "What have you done?" She asks.

He laughs, shrugs, and says, "Just something else to add to my trophy room." Her mind drifts to other memories, they happen in a quick succession; she is reliving months of pain and horror in a matter of seconds. She removes the blanket and see the stumps that are her legs.

"Oh, good." He says, "You've removed the blanket for me. That will make this so much easier." He cracks his knuckles, a habit she is sure has always grossed her out. "I realized after I found out you were pregnant that I do want a baby to raise." He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. That was one thing that had never changed in his face. His bald head now was full of hair... his eyes were no longer brown. He didn't even go by the same name as he did when she worked with him. She was starting to remember more than the pain and hurt he inflicted in the past.

"I'm not Barbara." She whispers. He reaches into his shopping bag and brings forth a metal hanger and slowly starts straightening it out. She tries to scoot away, but she doesn't have the strength. "What are you doing?"

"We'll just have to try again, love." He says. "I want me a son." Then he forces her stubs apart and slowly inserts the hanger. "You may feel a pinch." He says with the same soulless smile. Then he forces the hanger home and says, "Don't be in such a hurry to push me away."

She wakes up again. It's a new day. A nurse walks in and taps the I.V. hanging out of her arm. "How are we today, Mrs. Cleever?" She asks. The woman remembers her pregnancy and reaches down to feel her now flat stomach. It isn't the smooshy softness she expects, it has an odd firmness she doesn't associate with the loss of a baby.

"My baby?" She asks.

The nurse rolls her eyes. "Not again, Mrs. Cleever. We've been through this before."

The woman feels tears course down her face. "What happened? Please? I don't remember."

The nurse seems to feel some pity and finally tells her she lost it. "Spontaneous abortion. If you'd been a couple weeks further along, it'd be called a premature birth." The woman decides the pity idea was wrong and lets herself cry. She cries until she vomits all over herself, bringing the nurse back in, and she's drugged into another sleep.

She wakes up to "Ted" walking into the room. She feels fear at his presence, but doesn't know why. He smiles at her and whispers, "Hello, love. Ready to try for a boy? I have it on good authority that you are ovulating today."

She looks at him and almost says no. But then she thinks, a baby... I need a baby. She nods and he shuts the door to her private room. She willingly takes him into her arms. She doesn't know it, but this is the first time she allows him to kiss her. He takes his time with her, makes love to her as he perhaps has always wanted to. She wants to wrap her legs around him, but she can't; they are gone. Instead she clasps him to her, they finish together and he whispers, "I love you, Susie."

"I love you too, Ted." The fear is beginning to ebb away. He smiles again, but it reaches his eyes this time. She doesn't quite remember the other smiles, but she does remember that he's always been there for her. During this whole hospital stay, he is the only one who has come to visit her. He is the only one to show he cares.

"It's time for you to come home." He states. She sighs with relief.

It's good to be going home with the man you love.

This is me, looking inward...

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 10:02:00 +0000

I wrote a lot more. I deleted it. I was suddenly uncomfortable with how much I'd shared. Sorry.

I know in a lot of people's eyes, I'm a bitch. I'm OK with that. If I'm being a bitch. But most the time, they look at me and assume I am. This impression sticks with them, forever. When that pursed lip look I tend to take is shown, please remember that it is only a symptom of having bucked teeth as a child, that need to always hide the hideous smile from the world.

For those in my classes this quarter... the only class I truly loved the people in was the capstone. My heart has always been bursting with love for people. In this instance, if I say it, it just means I like you a whole lot, but not in a weird Mrs. Robinson kind of way. I may not list your name, also because I can't remember everyone. I'm not a God, but mostly I'm tired.

Josh P. Seriously, he is one of my favorite people in the world. The fact that he is so strong and stoic about his health challenge blows my mind. (I can't spell it). I love your poetry. I love your humor, and I think you are really cute.

Chris C. He has got to be one of the nicest people I've ever met in my life. Besides myself, of course. He's funny, too, and all you have to do is make me laugh, and you have a spot beside me for always. This goes for everyone mentioned here though. I hope you don't forget about me, Chris, cuz I won't forget about you.

Aaron K. You are funny, intelligent, and when you put your hair back in a pony tail and leave part of it down, you remind me of a very young Mongul. But cute, not dangerous and marauding. I hope you get your comic book making skills up off the ground and live your dreams.

Jenai! I've only had you in two classes. Both were this year, as you know. My first idea of you was, "She's quiet and likes Thai noodles." Then it became, "She seems fun." And then, "Wow she is mean to me." Of course, that was an email snafu, and I came to understand I was being touchy. :) You rock, girl, and I can't wait to see what life brings your way.

Nancy. I've had you in a couple classes. You always brought in stacks of books., which blew my mind. I could tell you really love what you are learning. When you were showing older books to Josh in Binney's class, I wanted so bad to know what they were. I love old books. LOVE THEM... but I didn't know you well enough to butt in. You're funny and smart and I hope I learn more about you in the years to come.

David. Hey. I always thought you didn't like me. Until this quarter, really. I don't know why. Maybe it was my inner demon being a bitch. Probably, cuz we had some good laughs, and good conversations...

Scott. Scott, when I was telling my husband about you, I said, "He's very personable." Then I was accused of being an old lady for saying that. I was floored when I heard you were put on the waiting list for Fiction. I didn't understand why you weren't snatched right up. You are an awesome writer. I hope to one day buy a book of your essays or short stories, or a novel. Hey, do all three. :) I hope that one day you and your girlfriend both quit smoking. It's super hard, but if I can do it, you can do it. Believe me... I'm a huge addict. About everything. Now I just need to kick the Mountain Dew addiction, then I can move on to fatty foods. Kicking them, not eating them. I do that enough now. :)

Lisa. You are a great person and a wonderful writer. You are not afraid to try something that is new to you, and I think you should keep on doing it. Keep on writing (like your blog says) and don't be afraid of failure. It is that fear that holds us down (I know it holds me down).

There are a lot of folks I wish I could have gotten to know better. A lot of people I wish I could have made friends with.

Am I the Only One?

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 09:23:00 +0000

My friend just became the owner of two hamsters (more power to her, I really have no luck with them). Then, she made a myspace page for them.

Am I the only one who finds this odd? A lot of Tallulah's friends (the only hamster name I recall at the moment) are also hamsters with myspace pages. There seems to be a trend.

I think I will make one for my dog. His profile will say bi, because all dogs like it both ways. Then, it will say, "I'm nearly 7, but act 2. I am looking for a home with people who appreciate me and are willing to put up with my shit." Then he will post a few pictures of himself.

"This is me in the snow."
"This is me in the grass."
"This is me sleeping."
"This is me sleeping again."

In the about me section, he will say, "I enjoy barking at nothing, loudly, late at night. I am afraid of loud noises; these can be anything from a firecracker to a motorcycle. Loud noises scare me so much, I want nothing more than to be under my master's legs, where I can shake uncontrollably. I do not care if there is a door between him and I. I will dig my way through that door. I also enjoy peeing in the bathroom. I have not yet made it to the toilet, and only go on the carpet, but I have hopes that one day, I will be able to go where the master does." (It's my belief that if the master hit the toilet better, then this wouldn't be a problem.) He will go on to say, "I am NOT a virgin! YES! But it's been years since I've been around any bitches. I am looking for a steady relationship."

Ok, see, now I've really gone overboard. Maybe that is how it started--as a joke, and soon it turned into the thing to do!

Well, I'm not havin' it. I'm not. That's just too much work.

Goodbye, Dear Classmates, Goodbye..

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 06:32:00 +0000

Many of you are moving on. I want to let you know that I will miss a great many of you. I hope you all continue blogging, and keep me informed as well.

And I have to say Rachel Toor, so she will get an email. You rock Rachel. Seriously. :)

Blogger Incentive Prizes

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 08:40:00 +0000

Want to be placed in a drawing to win a prize, but don't want to become separated by a dollar? We have the answer!

Blogger Incentive Prizes!

Posted by Susan Marie Groppi

2 June 2008

Okay, so I'm only on my third post of the fund drive, and I'm already starting to be exhausted from using all of these exclamation points. Sorry about that. I am, in fact, actually very excited about the fund drive, but I don't know that I need to show it quite! so! punctuationally!

That said, more exclamation points are on the way, because we have one more category of special bonus prizes: blogger incentive prizes! (If anyone has suggestions for a less business-y marketing-speak name for these prizes, let me know, please?) Promotion is the lifeblood of our fund drive--if people don't know that we're asking for money, and offering them fabulous gifts in return, how are we ever going to make our goal? In past fund drives, people have been really wonderful about helping promote the fund drive by mentioning it in their blogs and whatnot, and this time around, we want to show our gratitude in a more tangible way. How? With another prize drawing! (I do love me a random number generator.)

We have a set of four special bonus prizes, one for each week of the fund drive. Each week, one of these special bonus prizes will be given to one lucky person who helped out the Strange Horizons Fund Drive by mentioning it (and linking to it) from their blog, webjournal, or other exciting form of website. That's right! Just mentioning the fund drive, and linking to it, can win you a prize! Later today, I'll make an announcement of this week's blogger incentive prize, so you'll know what you're trying to win. (Speaking to more lofty goals, you should help promote the Strange Horizons Fund Drive because you love Strange Horizons and want us to be able to continue to pay our authors! Speaking more practically, though, these are pretty great prizes, and so simple to win.)

oops

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 04:54:00 +0000

I've been bad. I've not been posting. I'm so sorry. I know how everyone hangs on my every thought. It's not that I've been thoughtless, but that I've been without thoughts. When I have free time I've been doing things non-educational related.

Oh! It's June! If you appreciate the arts, donate to strangehorizons.com. 1 dollar is a good amount :) if you don't have a paypal account, just give me the money and I'll donate it in your name. You'll be able to win some really cool prizes. :)

Go do it. Karma will love you.

Chinese Trauma Stuff.

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Wed, 28 May 2008 07:22:00 +0000

I linked the title to something, but just in case none of you is savvy enough to realize it, here is the link as well.

Basically it's a news story about Chinese Mother #1.

I think it's awesome, personally.

I have no title!

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sun, 25 May 2008 10:53:00 +0000

I had to post on blackboard yesterday, and I forgot. I woke up early, went to the press office and worked my butt off, then I went to see Indiana Jones. Yay! I love Shia Lebouf, by the way. He's awesome.

My friend is on a drawing kick and drew my Veronica for me.

Veronica by *WinterRose31 on deviant ART

She is getting a lot better. See?

One of her first drawings of her daughter, Boogie:

Boogie Drawing by *WinterRose31 on deviant ART

A recent drawing of Boogie:

Boogie Drawing 2 by *WinterRose31 on deviant ART

I'm envious. I want nothing more than to be able to paint or draw or do something arty. I can't though. The closest I can come is digital art, and that--not so good.

I'm pretty excited though, I'm going to be taking Digital Art in the fall. :)

Cheese Pie

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sat, 24 May 2008 09:09:00 +0000

Yes, this is my third daughter, Veronica. In all fairness, she's the cutest right now. But that's because she's in that phase. The three and four year old phase. I'm kidding, Cassandra is cute too, she has really curly hair. She just doesn't photograph well sometimes. :) Yvonne is 14, so she's getting cuter. Sabrina is cute as well, but she's a baby. They like, have to be cute.

I don't know what else to write. I need sleep. I worked hard in the office today.

Speaking of Offices, Northwest Boulevard has an office now! Yay! Check out their website, it's really cool looking.

Girl in Pony Tails by *damina on deviant ART

Please?

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Fri, 23 May 2008 09:36:00 +0000

Please? by *damina on deviant ART

This is Veronica. She is very spoiled. Do you know why?

She'll be four in June. It's crazy. I'm tired, but hungry.

Awesomeness!

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Thu, 22 May 2008 16:47:00 +0000

Here is the prize donation page so far: prizes

Notice that first one there? He's sending them to me. I don't know how I will part with them all. It will be difficult.

Anyone who donates (even if it's a dollar) is entered into these drawings. So, yeah. Donate a dollar in June, guys. I know you are college students, and poor, but so am I! I can afford a dollar. I see you people with coffees that I know cost at least three or four dollars. What's one more?

Just think, for the price of a coffee, you could be the lucky winner of an autographed copy of something.

A Sample of My Stupidity

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Wed, 21 May 2008 18:49:00 +0000

I was reading Waterland by Graham Swift for ENGL 445. It was the fourth or fifth book we'd read, and I wondered why they all had British punctuation. You know, apostrophes instead of quotes and things like that. And the British spelling--colour and behaviour, things like that. I thought, "Does he have a hard on for British writers or what?"

Then I remembered it was British Literature and I was a spaz.

My Head is Full

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Tue, 20 May 2008 17:42:00 +0000

I can no longer retain information about books. I can no longer recall something I read a week ago in class. Something is broken up there. I hope it gets fixed this summer.

I am supposed to write a final paper in Brit Lit and I have no idea what it will be. I wish Dr. Flinn would just point at me and say, "Dawn, your topic is this.... discuss!" Then, maybe I'd have a chance. As it is, I just can't think of anything. Critical analysis isn't fun anyway, and it isn't something I care about, at all. I just hope I pass.

The final will be a few questions chosen randomly out of the study questions. I never read those, because they are confusing, and make me feel stupid most of the time. Well, not never, but I don't read them while I'm reading the book. I can't remember so many things, I don't know how I will do on this final. I am sad.

When I started college in 2004 (pregnant with number 3) I was excited. I wanted to do SO well. I wanted 4.0's in everything. That first quarter, that's what I got. I had the baby on June 19th, right after school was out and started summer quarter on the 21st. All of my classes were online. I received a 4.0 in English 201 and a bit lower in the other two, which I think were history and psychology 101. Still, I thought, this is good.

Then I had to take math. So, my gpa went down a bit, but I was still above a 3.7 cumulative gpa and I was happy with that. I joined Phi Theta Kappa mostly so I could get a scholarship to eastern. The first year I went here, I was in honors. My GPA dripped down to a 3.6 and I was booted from honors. No more scholarship.

I've decided I don't care about GPA anyway. I mean, no one has ever interviewed me and asked, "What grade did you get in this class?" They've never asked to see my transcripts, and never have I been asked for proof that I graduated from High School. I'm almost sure that if I say I have a bachelor's degree, they'll ask to see it, but it doesn't matter either. I mean, they hire people with degrees all the time, degrees that were bought on the internet and never do they check that school out, to see if it's legit. Not until some poor kid is running around saying this like, "That's unportant, and unnapropriate."

Teachers make mistakes... but nearly every week I sent my daughter's fifth grade word list back with corrections. Don't test my kid on words and spell them wrong! Jeez. The next year she had the same teacher and she had her in a special group that was given greek roots and they had to do a bunch of stuff with them. I don't remember what.

That's why I hate Spokane schools. They are like, "it's really important that our kids are coddled during Elementary School. Our classes should have less than 20 kids each. They should have the same teacher as often as possible. But after grade school, who gives a shit? Let's throw them in these four middle schools full of thousands of kids, with teachers who say things like, '265 kids come through my class every day, your daughter doesn't look familiar, so I'm guessing she's not failing' when asked how a certain child is doing in their class." He was wrong, by the way, she was failing.

"Then," they say, "let's just go ahead and toss who ever is left into these other four high schools. We have the poor high school (North Central), the rich high school (Ferris), the mix of both (Shadle), and that one downtown (LC). The last one is the best one. What a great location for a high school. Hey, there are hospitals nearby, and mcdonalds. The freeway. That really nice parking area under the freeway--it's so safe. No one slings drugs there."

Everyone called Jance, "Last Chance Jance" I don't know if I'm spelling it right, and I don't care. I think places like that are great. You have more one on one with teachers and students. You work at your own pace. Ect. My cousin went to a place like that, but she didn't graduate. She just wasn't the type.

I'm homeschooling my daughter next year. She's insanely shy and starting new, large schools is extremely painful for her. But, mostly, it's because I'm pretty sure I could teach her better.

I really went off in a different direction on this, didn't I? I guess my point is that I hate Spokane schools and I no longer care about my GPA, only care if I pass. It's a sickness. I'm done. I'm tired. I'm sick of it.

I hate stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Mon, 19 May 2008 17:37:00 +0000

My title making skillz are top notch. I know. W00t!

So.... I play everquest 2 from time to time. My account is supposed to be free. I went to log in, and it isn't free anymore. I could understand if they had a reason for it... or something, but I didn't even get an email. Of course, that means they will lose the other two accounts this family pays for, plus any money we may have spent on adventure packs or expansion packs. Of course, it IS Sony, so it isn't like that's going to hurt them.

That's ok though, I'm sick of SOE. I was going to rant about them, but I don't feel like giving them that kind of energy.

I never have time to play, anyway.

I'm No Lady

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Mon, 19 May 2008 05:41:00 +0000

A couple years ago or three, my second daughter, Cassandra, was hanging around my husband and me while we were playing WoW or EQ2, I don't remember which. I said something snarky to him, and he said, "Listen, Lady!" In a bitchy, Jerry Lewis-voice.

I said, "Hey! Don't you talk to me like that!"

And Cassandra said, "Yeah! Mommy's not a lady!"

Oh donations!

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sun, 18 May 2008 05:43:00 +0000

So, this person here will be donating a signed print of her work to our cause (strangehorizons) and I emailed Patrick Rothfuss, who will be sending me some books for the raffle, and I'm super excited.

If you don't know who that is, run to the bookstore and buy, "The Name of the Wind," because it is super awesome. If you don't, I will shoot you in the leg.

Strange Horizons

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Sat, 17 May 2008 04:54:00 +0000

I'm the development coordinator for Strangehorizons.com, which is a super awesome paying speculative fiction and art market. It is recognized by SFWA.org, as a paying market. Many of the pieces submitted to the online magazine have been nominated for outstanding awards, like the Hugo award.

We are run completely on donations. We do not get paid, only our writers do! Go to [link] to check it out. Every year we have a fund drive and you get fantabulous prizes for donating at that time. DO IT! (but not until June).

If we reach a certain limit (haven't decided how much yet) Kelly Link will write a short story exclusively for us to publish. I'm super excited about it.

If you have a book or work of art and would like to donate a copy to a winner, let me know! It will be put on our list of donated items, and your name will be there for a whole year! What a way to make it seen (your name and your work).

So I applied for the managing editor job, but I didn't get it. From the looks of it though, I'm far more busy now then I would have been. ;)

I used a lot of exclamation points! I wonder if Dave and Scott are at the party tonight at Claire's house!? I am using stream-of-consciousness indiscriminately!

The Ease (and horrible consequences) of Internet Posting

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Wed, 14 May 2008 18:38:00 +0000

In 1995 my husband went to NYC for a week, taking our daughter with him. He was going to come home without her, and she was to stay there for three months. She was two. It was not the best decision I have ever made, and whenever I bring it up, I tend to go off on a rant about it. Let's cut it short and just say they didn't return her until six months later and that was at my insistence. I haven't been away from any of my kids for that long, again. So, he left for NYC, it was the first time we'd been apart for any amount of time in two years. I was sleepless, I was lonely, I was smoking a ton of pot. It was my early twenties, and I worked at hastings. Everyone smoked pot at hastings. I had more connections for pot than I'd had in high school. Though, in high school I never had to pay for it.

It was late, maybe four in the morning, and once more I couldn't sleep. I decided to write. I took out my notebook, or maybe I turned on my pentium, I can't remember. I am not The Woman Who Can't Forget, so cut me a little slack. Suddenly, my mind expanded and I wrote the best poem I'd ever written in my life! It was so great, I couldn't wait to share it. I think I'd posted it on a bulletin board I frequented.

In November of that year I was reading Speculations (Which OMG is no longer in the business, it breaks my heart.) and found a magazine that fit my poem, plus I could email it. Sooner than I expected I received an acceptance letter. It was my first one and I was so proud. Payment was a contributor's copy, and that was OK with me. When I received the magazine, I opened immediately to my poem. I was angry, it was split into two columns and wasn't supposed to be. Plus, it was surrounded with other poems that were no where near as good.

In 1999, I learnt me how to make webpages on Angelfire.com. My first website was born: Damina's First. I posted all of my writing that I could. Including the aforementioned poem. Black Moon Magazine (the one who printed it) had since gone out of business. I found sffworld.com and swiftly became a member, posting some of my writing there, including that damn poem.

I have since deleted Damina's First (mostly for personal reasons, if you ever find my angelfire webpage, you will see that :P) and moved on. However, that poem, and another on sffworld, have haunted me. They are still there, you see, and I can no longer log in to delete them. They changed the way people submit stuff, and my conversation with the webmaster regarding this was cut off mid-sentence. He dropped the ball somewhere, or died.

Every now and then I get bored and google certain phrases in the poem, and I find it everywhere. The kids really like it. They like to say they wrote it, or to use parts of it (and the other one on sffworld) and seem like mediocre writers.

It's not a poem I am proud of. Actually, I now hate it, but it's mine damn it, and I don't want their grubby little emo hands all over it. This is a warning for you, any of you, thinking of posting you poetry online. Remember it, dread it.

Did I learn my lesson? No. haha. I suck.

For those of you interested, it's The Vampire, by Dawn Rusho (my maiden name. I was going to use that as my pseudonym.) and it reeks. I posted it in 2002, so obviously it took me a while to find sffworld. It's missing an apostrophe, and sidhe is pronounced "Shee." Look it up.

Huge Soaking Wet Pee-Ness (this will be a small one)

noreply@blogger.com (Slappy Jones) — Wed, 14 May 2008 06:30:00 +0000

So, last night and yesterday were hellish. The children were still sick, but not as sick. However, diapers and diarrhea equals diaper rash. So everytime the child peed last night, she cried and woke up. Finally, around four a.m., drop-dead tired, I picked her up and put her in bed with me. Dee goes to work at two a.m. so she slept on his side.

Anyway, in the morning, she woke up for good around ten-thirty, and I brought her downstairs, threw her at my mother-in-law, and ran back upstairs to sleep more. Once I went up, I realized I had a huge wet spot on my jammies--her diaper had leaked. She'd also managed to pee all over Dee's side of the bed. (yay).

I was telling Yvonne about it just now. I said, "Anyway, after I went upstairs, I saw a wet spot on my jammies and realized it was a huge, soaking wet pee-ness." In my head, I saw pee-ness. She tells me that at first, that spelling also flashed in her head.

Suddenly, however, a different form of pee-ness flashed through her head, and Beavis and Butthead style she said, pointing, "You said penis!"

After the laughter had calmed down a bit on both our parts, I said, "The things that come out of her diaper!"

Ciao