I will not use cliches... I will not use cliches...

I'm going to try this frank thankfulness thing that's going around. Don't get me wrong - I am VERY grateful for things: deep tissue massages, facials, and Mint Brussels (which Pepperidge Farm has stopped making, the NERVE!) among other delights of life. But to get slightly in depth and not so philosophical (and more sentimental) I have to say...

My husband is such a rock in my life. I know I complain a lot. He hears most of my rants, be it logical or totally irrational, and still loves me at the end of the day. He supports my schooling, he supports my desire to be a better person, he loves me for who I am, both physical and spiritual, and makes me that much of a better person. I know he loves me. I just wish there was more I could do to show him how much he means to me.

Personality types

If there ever was a "Type A" person, it'd be me. Hands down, no questions asked, thank you, have a nice day.

I'd like to apologize for that.

I'm going back to this weird lack of sleep induced self-consciousness. I've been trolling around a few blogs lately and I want to cry at the things I read. I cried watching Glee last night, but that was TOTALLY LEGIT. But I'm not the person who cries. My mother and two older sisters have, since I can remember, called me out on my inability to cry at emotional moments. Madame Butterfly? My mom had to remind me where the stage was. I was too busy looking at the tears to see what was going on onstage.


So here's my goal: I want to try to be more "Type B" without losing my "Type A" self. Is that too contradictory? It probably is. And there's my problem from a blog I wrote a few months back, something about Sylvia Plath and her quote from The Bell Jar that fits me to a tee. Pardon my paraphrasing, but I can't remember it off the top of my head: If wanting two mutually exclusive things at the same time is neurotic, then I'm neurotic as hell.

I'm also going to try to be more insightful without all the cynicism and pessimism. Maybe then people will like me >_______< that much better. :) Here's to hope!

Alas, and alack

I would like to draw your attention to the name of my blog. This is why I don't post crafty things on here, as well as hijack all my crafty ideas from books and the internet.

Except for my Christmas cards.

They rock!

Can you tell I'm stalling? I should be taking an inconsequential math test but am starting to get delirious from being awake since 2am (early work shift) and just want to go home and sleep.

Letter to my professor

This is a major part of my frustration.

Certain names have been changed.

Diane,

I'm going to be totally frank. I have a very, very limiting schedule. When She-who-must-not-be-named said at the beginning of the semester that the only time she could meet was at 6:30 on Friday nights, that was absolutely perfect for me, because that's honestly the ONLY time out of the entire week that I can do this. If I'm not mistaken, we've only met on Friday nights at 6:30 TWICE. She's lucky that I have consults with one of my professors periodically throughout the week, thus creating an open slot of time for us to meet, which is always according to her schedule. I don't care that she works in Salt Lake and drives down every day. She's single. I'm a mom who works full time, volunteers, goes to school full time (night classes included), and tries to maintain half a relationship with my husband and 11-year old. (And I apologize for this verbal explosion, but I really think you ought to know what the situation is.) Whenever we meet, She-who-must-not-be-named copies what I write down. She complains about having to take math, complains that she doesn't understand, complains, complains, complains. She ran into me at the library on Monday while I was working on a research proposal and said that (once again) she couldn't meet on Friday night. I told her my schedule is such that I can't meet except for Friday nights. I was not paying attention to what she was saying because of the work I was doing, so if there's no story problem, I apologize. Every story problem that has been submitted this semester has come from me. Every time we've had to show you the work, it's come from me. If she's submitted anything, save this week, I'll guarantee it's copied from me. I think she said she was going to submit a word problem, so whatever. I'd join in with Doug's study group, but again, my schedule is such that I leave work for school and as soon as class is over I run back to work. I can do the problem you asked, and if you want I'll show you the work on Monday.

Thanks for listening. I will continue to keep my happy face on.

Sarah Dockstader

Thoughts for a cold Wednesday morning

I love the fact that I'm a morning person, yet I hate the fact that I can't sleep in past 6am on my day off. It's still pitch black outside, and it's almost 7am. I love this time of day. It's quiet, it's dark, and I'm totally conscious of myself and my surroundings.

But that's wherein lies the problem.

Quiet + consciousness + Sarah = Doubt, worry, fear.

It's strange how this works, but it really does. I just turned on some light music in the background. Now everything I was going to talk about has left my mind. I have been sitting here for about 5 minutes staring at what I've written and now lack the ability to finish what I was going to say because of the music playing in the background. That's why I have music playing about 80% of my day: To not focus on the negative.

Nevermind! Insecurities? Pfffft. I don't care.

Califor-n-i-a

Since you're reading the latest blog, I'm sure you've all noticed something: I'm still alive. Yeah, my plane didn't crash into a million little pieces (or would it be 'go down in one ball of flame') and I am in my house, but not necessarily lying in my bed (again, apologies to Indigo Girls).

I've decided to try and consolidate my lists into one little spiffy notebook that I can take with me everywhere I go. I am looking at 4 notebooks sitting in the wastebasket and a pile of papers in front of me, begging to be reorganized into said little, convenient notebook. I worry that this little notebook is going to be filled from cover to cover once I rewrite everything down. I also need to round up the receipts I've used as scratch paper to write something down, as well as all the random pieces of paper in the middle of my school notebooks. I had nothing to write on about a week ago and had to use a kleenex. Now I have misplaced the kleenex and I'm not amused. I have a feeling I'm going to be buying a few more small notebooks to replace the huge cumbersome ones lying around my house. I'm sure Rod won't have any objections to my consolidation of papers and lists and notes.

Anyway, my little vacay to SoCal was awesome. My mom worried that I was bored. I simply responded, "I'd rather be bored here than bored in Utah." I wasn't bored at all, for the record. Give me an iced latte and a book and I'm in heaven. I got to see an old friend, I got to spend time with my awesome sister in one of my favorite areas of San Diego, I bought some new books, had a few iced mochas and lattes, went to the beach, and did absolutely 100% of what I wanted to do and didn't have to answer to anyone. Bored? I think NOT.

My apologies to Indigo Girls

I tried to take a nap today before studying for my math test tomorrow. I had my sleeping music I've trained myself to fall asleep to playing in the background, and I started my breathing exercises that Ronna assigned me to do. Then, I realized I am flying the day after tomorrow. In 48 hours, I will be at the airport. Getting ready. To fly.

Alone.

Yeah, I know there are going to be other people on the plane. (It's completely full.) But me? I will be alone.

I thought about my breathing and listened to my music. And all I could think about was how scared I am to fly. I pictured myself at the airport, waiting to get on the plane. Then I saw two guards hauling me off to airport security, as I'm wailing and screaming in fear.

I pictured myself on the plane, not breathing. Just crying. Inconsolably bawling.

Here are the lyrics to a song by Indigo Girls. Song title: Airplane.

Up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity
If I did wrong I won't do it again
Cause I can be sweet and good and nice
And if I had enemies they're friends
I'll hold to my life with the grip of a vice

And I'm up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity

That little spot on the ground is my hometown
I like to call it my home and it's sweet
I'd rather take a seat down there
Than a throne up here up above 30,000 feet
And I'm up on the airplane

I never should have read my horoscope
Or the fortune on the bubble gum strip
Saying what you think won't happen will
A great thing to read before a trip
On an airplane

Pilot says the big blue sky's like a swimming pool
Big fluffy clouds like a feather bed
I'd rather have a real pillow underneath my head
Lying in my bed which is in my hometown
Which is on the ground
Far from an airplane