salvete, lectores invisibiles-
Latine non scripsi longius; tempus maturum est.
die Saturnis priore, dies natalis patris fuit. si vivat, LXIV annos compleverit. sed is mortuus est plus decem annos.
numquam eum mortuum esse sentibo. sine eo, cosmos vacuissimus est.

So, I'm back from San Diego and life is almost back to normal. The kids were supposed to get home today, but airlines and summer weather. Need I say more? Poor little angels.
It's weird to be back in Tucson, skating and back at work again, but I feel like I can deal with almost everything since I've been to Clarion. It was life changing like that. Right now it feels like anything else except writing is just filler, I suppose it will fade, but it does provide a nice buffer.
We're starting a new Latin program at school, Latin for Americans. Latin has expanded to include 5th graders, and we've been promised to take it up to 7th grade and through high school starting next year.
I'm teaching 6th English and Latin, same as before. A friend of mine from grad school is working with me now. Good times.
mox Latine scribam. hodie impatiens sententias nolo rodere ut verba vomam. plures cras, forsan.

me in medio aestatis invenio. non in medio sed paene ad finem! quo aestas volavit?
in urbe Sancto Iacobo pro schola poetis, Clario, habitabam. hic multa scribebam et paule dormiebam.
iam fabulam de haruspice complevi. cras alii poetae eam disserent. in diebus passis, cor meum metu tremuit. sed hodie, eh, multa verba sunt, alii ea amabunt, alii non. fabula scripta est, et hoc factum mirabilis est.
poeta Vernor Vinge pro colloquio advenit. debeo adsignare et ad colloquium ire.
salvete!

So, it looks like I will be going to Clarion after all.
I am equally excited and scared.
This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. This could be the boot camp that forms me into the soldier for words that I want to be. And it's by the beach.
But it means leaving my family. It means no long lazy summer to recharge from the energy hurricane that is teaching. No visiting family I haven't seen in years. No catching up with friends I haven't seen in months. No skating with my new team. No money.
But I'm going.

I attended a funeral today. His death was terrible: sudden, young, accidental, and ironic. A real tragedy on so many levels. It shouldn't have happened. This kid was smart, funny, talented, feisty, he had great friends, lots of family. I am personally devastated, and devastated for my brother, his roommate, would-be rescuer, true friend.

I am so sad and yet don't feel entitled to sorrow. Who was I to him, anyway? What did I matter? What right do I have to grieve? And I do grieve.

I've been reading through his blog. He was a writer. I mean I knew he wrote well, I'd heard stories from my brother, who also writes well, but there's taking that next step and claiming the word, writer. I think it was an important word for him. A word that connects us although I think it's a word I am waiting to claim. That my brother is waiting to claim. Waiting for...?

The incident of his passing happened at my Mom's house. The house I grew up in. It has't been my house for a very long time, twenty years. But all my childhood memories are there. I am a homebody and have never lived more than three miles away. I've tried to let go of the sense of place, but it's hard. Someone posted pictures of BDA on myspace and many of them were taken at the house. Not my house, and yet the emotion is there. I don't feel entitled to it. For the most part, my memories, well, what I do remember, are cheery. I am really unable to remember bad scary things. I don't really remember a lot. The memories I have in that house compared to those of my brother must be so different. I remember flowers and music and reading and puppies and kittens and new babies {including him!) He must remember being left by people as we grew up and moved out, the pets grew old and died, being so alone with my dad in the years of illness and alone in the house in the stillness after Dad's death. Now this.

I have been so shut down lately. Not writing, not reaching out, letting things fester inside. My brother and I are ying and yang, on opposite sides of a unique family with parallel lives, reversed in a way. I consider myself a cheerful pessimist; my brother, despite or because of all he has endured by the age of 24, is a cranky optimist. I'm not going to leave it to chance or take it for granted that he knows I am here; I was after all the first to leave him even though I am ironically the closest, at least in distance, today. For whatever twisted reason I may not feel entitled to grieve, but my baby brother sure as hell is, and I am entitled to look after him and try and show him as many of the flowers and kittens as I can. Maybe some of his optimism will rub off. And maybe one or both of us will step up to take on the title, writer, that BDA left behind.

Here's a quote that stuck with me today as I listened to Christians turn a tragic, senseless death into a marketing campaign for a church. 'Tis the season.
"I don't believe in Hell. Instead, I like to believe there's some legendary Valhalla for writers where we all sit around and rant about how much we hated it on Earth while drinking scotch and puffing on pipes." BDA wrote this as a comment in his blog in December. I'd like to agree with him. Swap the scotch with bourbon and pipes with cloves and count me in.

Bye, Brett. I love you, Tom.

Months again have passed. I am putting some major delay on getting back to writing here or anywhere.
There's a deadline I'd like to meet in just undertwo weeks and I have everything just about ready ready, but the application isn't turned in yet and I can feel myself making excuses not to do it. Tonight it was updating playlists that were screaming for it. No writing, no application submitting.
Tonight was a night of yearning. Yearning to make music, yearning to make art, yearning to write. Rather than do, I yearn. It was all set off by a couple of requests by other teachers to come and talk about writing, like I know, and then looking through D's Juxtapoz magazine, a Guiness and then bathing myself in my favorite songs. Why can't I just get stuff done? Why waste so much energy and heartache not getting things done?

It's been such a long time since I posted. I can't say why, the habit comes and goes. I expect lately it's my damn headaches. They're back; it's been at least two a day (or rather night) since the first week of December. So, no sleep, nothing gets done, and I spend most of my time worrying about when the next one will strike. I am confident that this bout is in its last throes, hopefully last days, and then they should disappear for a while. Of course "for a while" can mean six months, or as it was last time four years. I'm hoping for the years options.
I've got to get back on track. I'm so far behind for work, and I haven't written in two months. Coincidently, in November I started a new story about a man who is suffering from cluster headaches; a month later mine return. Did I know that they were coming, did I somehow bring them on, or it is just dumb luck?

In the NYT last week there was an article by Dennis Overbye that appealed to me. He discusses lightheartedly the idea that free will is an illusion, that the brain makes decisions measurably before the conscious mind believes it has decided on something. He likens the conscious mind, the curator of free will, to a monkey riding a tiger. I am a monkey.

I signed up for NaNo again and I am embarrassed to say that I have started yet another novel. I won the first year but not since then. I really was intending to use this writing time to finish the Roman novel finally, instead I have been pursued by the story of a suicidal mathematician suffering from cluster headaches. It has been awhile since a story idea unfurled itself of its own accord in my head so I am going to go with it. The working title is Capricorn word count: 1554. Only 48446 words to go!

sola sum. nupta sum et tres filios habeo et indubie eos amo. Illi meam vitam corque complent, sed ego sola sum. cum multis amicis grego, per diem totam centem pueri sedent pro me; una dicamus, iocamus, docemus, sed sola sum.
nonne omnis semper solus in anima, solus in tenebris eius mentis? mundusne vela videtur quo pictae personae sunt? vivamusne ex hora et in horam proximam sperantes manentesque brevitatem connexi humani?
Hodie, et ipso, me solam esse sensio.

and other tasks related to grading. Maybe if I sit down and get this out of my system I will feel like working.
I went to the bookstore tonight hoping to find a book to read, but I couldn't. Maybe it's just that B&N has a crappy selection of SF but I really didn't find anything appealing. I did plop down $24 on Bradley's Arnold Latin Prose Composition, but that's not the same. I want a book to get lost in for a while.
I'm not feeling great either. It was a long stress-filled weekend. Although it was a four day weekend Friday through Monday off of work, my 20th high school reunion was this weekend and I, against better judgment, went. It wasn't so bad after all and I caught up with a couple of people I hadn't seen in a long time, but it was stressful. I wasn't very popular or happy in high school. Then on Sunday, when the reunion festivities were over, the plumbing in the house backed up. It took two days and two plumbers to get everything moving again. No fun!
Nope, still don't feel like working.

fessa sum. semperne fessa sum? sic videtur. ad cubiculum venio, sed compulsata sum scribere minime.
discipuli mei prendunt Latinam optime. alii de annis praeviis non tam prendunt. hi pueri boni intelligentesque sunt, et ego femina felicissima in ordine saeclorum sum quod possum eis Latinam docere. vere, in momentis selectis, sic. in aliis, sto spectoque digitulis caris aurum ex nasulis cavant et in ora rosa ponunt et nauseata sum. dies singulus felicates et terrores habet.
in Anglice legimus fabulam de Theseo Minotauroque. violentissima est et non minime ridicula. ei eam amorant! post laboraverunt et examinaverunt diagramos sententiarum, legens de deis humanisque laurus est, et pro me docente et illis prendentibus.
somnia dulcissima vobis omnibus.

It's been another long while since I've posted, but I am seriously thinking of picking it up seriously again. We have been spending a great deal of time in clubs lately, I'm feeling a lot less self conscious about picking up where I was in my early twenties here in my late thirties and just having fun. Drinking whiskey and listening to bands is fun, and it's okay to have fun.
We went out twice this week. Tuesday night we took the kids to Club Congress to see a great lineup: Tucson's own Mission Creeps, I Am Ghost, Charley Horse, and then the headliners Horrorpops. It was so much fun. The kids had a great time in the mosh pit and D and I hung out in the Adult Cage where we could drink and keep an eye on them but let them have some freedom and fun. There were a surprising number of kids from the school there
I loved all the bands except I Am Ghost and actually I enjoyed them for about 2 songs before I was through with them. I'd never heard them before so maybe they just didn't fit in with the psychobilly lineup. Then last night was the TRD awards ceremony and we stayed downtown wandering back and forth between the Surly Wench and Club Congress listening to mediocre bands between the two. The just as we were going to go home we stopped back into Congress and saw All The Pretty Horses which was so much fun. There were just a handful of people in the audience but the band was amazing to watch. Six foot plus transgender Venus deMars was gorgeous to watch and can really sing and the music was lovely, powerful, and thoughtful, just bass, guitar, and drums. They sounded a bit like The Cult with some Hedwig and the Angry Inch thrown in.
Anyway, D and I have been talking about playing music for months, but I've haven't even picked up my bass. Maybe tonight.

It's been over two months since I posted or read or touched LJ. I don't know why. These things just happen to me. I'll just stop and it's like a switch has been flipped and a part of me is gone. Well, now it's back on. Again, I can't say why. But things look different here. Hmmmm. Unfamiliar.
School is going well. I am loving it. I presented to the founders about Latin at BASIS and I think I have them thinking seriously about continuing past 6th grade. Some Latin is better than no Latin, but there is no good reason not to start building an AP Latin program.
I'm not so thrilled with Oxford Latin, we're using just the first half of Book 1 in 6th grade, and I'd like something that is more intense, more bang for the class time buck. I'll keep looking I suppose.
My writing has been stalled. janni has been very generous with her time and we have a good time writing about once a week, but beyond that...Well, I've said before I became a teacher so I'd have time to write. That hasn't happened.
I have been spending a lot of time skating though. About six hours a week of training (down from about 15 over the summer) I get to try out for a team in November. We'll see if I am strong enough by then.
I suppose I will try to write later. Maybe in Latin, although that too seems a million years away. But there are papers to grade!
ciao.

redivimus domum et dolorissimi sumus. hodie color aeris cv gradia fahrenheit habevit. in insula aurae dulcissimae spirant sed in loco hoc, sol invictus omnes suffocat. hodie nocte vir et ego scatavimus rotis et post ad tabernum polynesianum ivimus ut bibamus saccharum cum fructis et recordemur vitam dulcem in insulam. nunc mens mea in saccharo natat. ad cubiculum ire debeo cur serius est sed tempus in insula tres horae maturior est et corpus meum non redit ad tempus Tucsonensis.
credo me posse vivere in oceano. sol non me placet. si sub radiis maneo, cutis puriginem agit et caput dolet. sed die toto in undis nulla me molestat. gaudeo et ludo horas.
in arena post occidentem solis, verba me titillaverunt. non poeta sum, me misere si placet tibi:

in limine
inter diem noctemque
inter solem lunamque
inter terram aquamque
inter iuventam senectamque
inter gaudiam doloremque
mundus permutat undique
arena sub me dilabitur
aqua super me elabitur
sed sedeo perpetuo
in limine

saccharum me vexat, ad cubiculum eo ut caelem versantem videam. caffeam Konae optimam emimus sed reliquimus in camera. heu! quomodo petero surgere?

vir, pueri, et ego insulam Maui visimus. terra pulchrissima est, aquae Oceani Pacifici gelidae et caeruleae, arenae molles sub pedibus, et nebulae circum apicem montium. nocte luna trans terram et maria luminescat. in Arizona, sol non me placet, sed in loco hoc, non me molestat, quod tam undas (et flores, et aves) amo.
hic librum Mapping Human History legi. serendipitate pars ultima de insulis Havaiensis narravit: de historia et origine de hominibus. mores, et genetica, facti de pluribus nationibus sunt.
lingua Polynesia pulchra est et duodecim litteras habet. cum paucis litteris, multos cogitatos fingere possunt.

multa cogitata habeo sed non possum strigere imagines. scribo et tunc deleo. heu!

ab puella, origo vitae et hominis me fascinabat. hodie librum legi, non plus scientificum fuit, sed facile lectum est. Pro Auroram nomine scriptus de Nicolo Vadio. scriptis et inventis de geneticis et archaeologicis et linguisticis et paleontologicis historiam hominis trans orbem terrarum pingit. certe non omnibus corcordia sum. credo eum neglegere Africam nimis. sed iter felix per temporem et naturam hominium fuit. genetica maxime amo. sed liguistica mentem meum ceperunt. scripsit de lingua matre et de Greenbergio, docto linguisticis. ille tempavit invenire hanc linguam primam. modus operendi dubius sit, sed notiones graves sunt. delecta mea est de supergregibus linguarum. unum verbum praesertim explicat fortisan erat quinquaginta mille annis. tik verbum sonitur et inventum est in linguis circum globum. significatio est digitum, manus, numerus unus aut actus indicandi.
Certe in Latina “digitum” habeo radicem si d=t et g=k ut dicitur. et indico quoque.
Linguis aliis:
Indo-Europeana- *deik: indicare
Ainu- tek, manus
Nipponesa- te manus
Lingua Terraverentis- tikiq digitus index
Sirenica et Yupica Alaskae Centriae- tekeq digitus index
Graeca- dactylos, digitus
Inuita- tiqik, digitus
proto-Afroasiatica- *tak, unus
Khmera- tai, manus
Vietnamesa- tay, manus
linguis Amerindiis- nonnulla verba similes tik (auctor exempla verborum horum aut linguarum non dedit), digitus aut solus

hodie, in horis prioribus, summo cordis mei, cupivi redire ad universitatem ut linguas multas et etymologias harum sumam. sed non possum. univeristatem complevi et non possum redire. familiam habeo et si aliqui advenibunt universitatem mox, vir aut pueri debebunt. ego legendo libros fieri laeta debeo.

emi librum secundum, non nimis seniorum, nomine Mapping Human History et scriptus de Stephano Olsonii. hoc gravis cum geneticis et mollis in linguis videtur. rursus die proximo amore DNA-ae capta ero? sic cor mensque mobiles sunt.

Cur, me dice, habitavimus in ista terra arida? sed hodie non arida est. aer calidissimus et humidus est. xxxvii grados Celsii habet, et xxv per c humiditatis quae altissima in hac terra est. Multa nebula urbem tegunt, et fortasse pluvias dabunt, sed nonnullis horis. exemplum est tempestatium aestate Sonora. machinae quae aerem frigidum faciunt bene non laborant instatibus humidibus, quod evaporatione funguntur. et ullus dies quo artifex plumbarius domum visit, non dies optimus est. sed hodie legi ultimas paginas libri de historia originis hominis et me placet maxime. sed nunc ad circum imus! scribam multa de libro post.

They went and changed the World Cup schedule on me! I had a very nice thing going that involved spending four hours a day on my ass on the couch (I slept through the 6a.m. games) and now...well, they are running games simultaneously!
The good thing is that I will be forced to get back to my regularly scheduled summer. I've written hardly anything since World Cup happens during my prime writing time. Afternoons are mostly spent skating and I am worthless at night. No reading either. I did read The Devil Wears Prada and Secret of the Three Treasures early last week, but since then nothing. I really enjoyed Treasures it is endearing and funny and the characters are real. Prada? What was I thinking? I thought I'd try something new, and well, it didn't work out. I just couldn't get myself to cheer for the lead character. I really didn't care, I wanted to, but I didn't. Oh, well. That's probably why romance never clicked for me either. I have too little sympathy for self-absorbed characters. Perhaps I judge them too harshly because it's something I hate in myself.
Last week I also read The Idiot Girls' Action Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro which brought to mind two books that I read, oh, seven years ago that had a big effect on me. One was Dancing Queen by Lisa Carver, and the other Susie Bright's Sexual Reality. I just now pulled them both from the shelf, and frankly I couldn't tell you much about what's between the covers, but what I took out of the pair that summer was an amazement that some one could/would write a book about the incidentals of her life, grant that life the importance of the human condition, pass judgment on society based her own experiences, and then have other people read it! It was simply shocking and opened a door inside that had been locked with "nobody wants to know what I think or have to say" with the magical key of "who the fuck cares!" Very liberating.
An odd coincidence, both Carver's and Notaro's books have women in skates on the cover.

My World Cup febrile mind couldn't settle down and write this morning and I am afraid I kept janni from getting much work done either. But a discussion of ours about the piece she's working on jarred loose the pre-teen fantasy world a friend and I created. That in turn brought to mind two sets of books that I had entirely forgotten in the intervening 25 years. (Ack!) And I think it might be 25 years exactly.
Anyway, those books so influential on my preteen psyche were the Atlan series by Jane Gaskell and Daughter of the Bright Moon by Lynn Abbey. So I just went and tracked them down on Amazon. I wonder how they will hold up with time.

As you may or may not know, I have a problem. In my late teens and early twenties, as my peer group abused substances and social mores to cope with Gen X angst, I self-medicated with critters. I have taken every day since one day at a time. There have been good days and bad days. I managed to kick the getting pregnant habit before winding up with twelve kids, but I've made up the difference and then some with cats (not to mention dogs, fish, toads, frogs, crabs, and rats.)
Anyway, I think I have found something akin to the Nicoderm patch or Methodone that might help me get clean.
Meet MeowMix House. The best thing since Puppy Bowl (which we actually watched during the Super Bowl nonsense.)