Wednesday, April 30, 2003

The Low-Fidelity All-Star: he was born with the cool, and it's totally natural.  He runs the gamut from Hipster Supreme (only they can ingest as much coffee as he) to the geeky hipster%
You are the Low-Fidelity All-Star. You were born
with your cool, and it's totally natural. You
run the gamut from Hipster Supreme (only they
can ingest as much coffee as you) to the geeky
hipster (Mario Kart, anyone?).

What Kind of Hipster Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Heather at 8:17 PM


Does it mean that there's something wrong with me because I've learned to watch the sixty-second counter on one word out of the corner of my eye, trying desperately to finish a sentence that is already entirely too long in an entry that veered away from the word somewhere around second fifteen?

Heather at 8:09 PM


Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Colour change. Yes, we're British. It's lovely.

There's a story behind the pic. It might actually be too good to tell, though.

nighty night,

Heather at 8:21 PM


Could someone over the age of 18 please sexually harrass me?

There is a lot I am willing to overlook in my job. Take, for example, the fact that I do not have a stapler. (read: staple machine) I had one at one time. One that I purchased with my very own money and then strategically placed on my 1970's style monster of a metal desk. It lived happily on the desk, loaded with shiny new staples, for a grand total of three periods. Then, knowing that my stapler would of course be smarter than all the other little mindless staplers in the world, it gathered it's belongings and took off for greener pastures, never to be seen again. It was too good for that school. I understand this now. I respect it. And the daily retrieval and return of Nate's stapler gives my kids a sense of continuity from one day to the next. If there's one thing they can count on, it's that I never have a freakin stapler.

But on to the heart of the matter: the things I'm beginning to think I can no longer tolerate. Namely: sexual harrassment. We aren't talking about once-in-a-while, tiny little inappropriate comments about how cute my outfit is, or how lovely my curly flowing locks are. We're talking tits and ass, could-you-buy-your-clothes-a-couple-sizes-smaller, Grade-A, Clintonesque sexual harrassment. And the best part is, all of it is coming from boys who aren't old enough to buy their own cigarettes.

All of the unwanted attention culminated today in a grand moment of bra-popping. Yes, you read that correctly. I had my bra-popped, third grade style, by one of my students. Sure, it was funny as hell. And it was all in good fun. Not malicious in the least. And had I not immediately laughed my ass off, I probably could have gotten said sexual-harrasser into a large heap of trouble.

Maybe if I weren't such a hippie (see below), I'd react like a mature professional in such situations. But in the meantime, I think I'll just stay the hell away from my harrassers. Avoidance is my best tactic. I'll run when I see them coming, avoid them at all costs, prevent eye contact....
Oh wait. I'm supposed to be teaching these jokers. Back to the drawing board.

Heather at 7:50 PM


I said no more lists. I didn't say a damn thing about quizzes.

You are a Hippie. Wow.

What kind of Sixties Person are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Heather at 11:38 AM


Monday, April 28, 2003

Did anyone notice that Faith has a link to The Reverse Cowgirl? Wow, Faith. And all this time, we thought I was the sassy one.

Heather at 8:28 PM


A semi-boring day in the land of the magnolia.

All the news that's fit to print:
1. Redneck boyfriend is no more. Details may or may not be forthcoming. If you want the scoop, you probably know the number.
2. Roommate number four may be our very-special summer present, which would facilitate a very happy heather moving into a very tiny study. (Why don't my roommates realize how sincerely happy I am about this? If I live in the same room for more than a year I start to feel rooted. Roots are bad.)
3. Painting Marathon 2003 is underway. The living room looks like we let little kids destroy our walls, with it's one new coat of Killz, attempting to cover up the tomb-like dark green.
4. Ole Shelly will be no more as of tomorrow afternoon. Ah, the memories. (The official decision has yet to be made as to whether or not the new car will be called New Shelly. Something tells me it just wouldn't be the same.)
5. I had a really cool post planned to mimic Krissa's Friday Five, but friday came and went, as did saturday and sunday, and I doubt a Tuesday Two would be as emotionally affecting. So if you want some gushing blog post praising why you're the best friend ever, you have at least four more days to wait.
6. No one should ever let me write long emails after fourth period, especially when I attempted to put a curse on them so that they would all die instantly.
7. My mom forgot to call me back after I told her I couldn't talk because I was watching Mr. Personality.
8. My sister rocks.

and I hereby do solemnly swear to not write a single list for the rest of the week.

Heather at 7:29 PM


Maybe this fixes it. I've gotten your complaints. I think my blog has an attitude problem. I'll try staying out of its way for a while...

Heather at 11:38 AM


Thursday, April 24, 2003

before the tornado comes to take us away...

Chillin with the homies tonight, getting our usual three hours of quality tv viewing time in, as per thursday tradition. And, again as per usual, one of the million new Saturn commercials came on. And heather was all, "Oh, my car is the greatest. These commercials are the greatest. Me, me, me, Zelda, zelda, zelda." And no one really cared.

And at the end, heather noticed a new Saturn slogan that hadn't caught her eye before. And it read, and I quote, "It's different in a Saturn."

And yes, my friends, it is.

So tonight, drink up to advertising genius, backseats, and being able to give sexual meaning where none was intended.

Heather at 8:22 PM


Tuesday, April 22, 2003

an open ended letter
If you think this was written for you, you're probably right.

Dear Ex,
I've been thinking a lot recently about what went wrong and why and where. It isn't poetic, thoughtful reflection, but rather the typical-heather "what the hell?" diatribe of wishing we had all known ourselves a little bit better at the time. And it all seems a little idiotic, to be thinking of people that are not thinking of me, and remembering things that you have certainly forgotten:
Happy Birthday phone calls,
psychotic breakdowns,
shared twin beds,
the breezeway of Humes Hall,
porch swings and porch swings and porch swings,
our picnic table,
midnight Metro rides,
that one perfect night when it really could have lasted forever even though it felt perfect in the moment and that somehow made it wrong,
sitting in the sweltering city heat wondering if you would actually be on time,
breaking down on the highway and sitting on your bumper, knowing that we didn't need anyone to rescue us,
breaking down on the interstate and thinking that we'd surely die,
and hearing your stories, which are still in my head, which i still retell and occasionally steal replacing your name with mine in all the appropriate places.

I've been rereading the book that I've always wanted to live, only to find out that on my best days I am living the worst chapters.

Things weren't easier when I was with you, just younger and slower. Maybe it was about purity or naivety. Maybe I had more under control than I ever realized.

And so now, that I've apparently stepped into a place where I'm not the one in charge, for the first time ever, I feel like there are gratitudes and apologies owed that no one ever expected me to make. Thanks for letting me think I was the one running the show, and for never running me over with a car when I swore that my only option was to run away. Thanks for never leaving me wondering if the phone would ring. Thanks for always being the first to say the important things, namely "I love you," and "I'm sorry."

Guess I wanted you to know that you're still here with me, in some strange, detatched way that neither of us will ever understand. It is from you that I got my working "measure of a man". And when the next one falls by the wayside, as they always do, maybe we can both sleep a little easier knowing that I knew better because of all that you taught me.


Heather at 8:07 PM


Monday, April 21, 2003

Smoking, drinking, and sunburn...
a heathen celebration of Easter

Experiments in productivity (yeah right.):
* completion of the long-awaited super-lame-o webpage for school.
* the not so essential reorganization of my room with accompanying discovery and removal of ridiculous amounts of dust.
* tanning/burning in a futile and failed effort to deny my ultra-european roots.
* numerous trips to walmart resulting in the purchase of new tank-top, toilet paper for remarkably toilet paper free house, air freshener for ultra-stinky classroom, and one other unnamed purchase for roughly five dollars that won't expire until may of 2007.
* car-washing extravaganza 2003
* kicking Jessie after she passed out on the floor to make sure she was still alive and/or to see if she'd join me for a smoke

Experiments in procrastination/ productivity-phobic-ness:
* the cell phone is still sitting in my purse. nope, still haven't called.
* dreaming up elaborate short stories, novels, journal entries, poems, and leaving them all entirely in my head to be forgotten five minutes later.
* losing vast amounts of time to thinking about a boy.
* internet drivel.
* Trading Spaces

At least there will always be porch time.

Heather at 1:34 PM


Friday, April 18, 2003

My Notes to you:

Emailed the website to Dr. Cock. 9 am, three days late, with coffee in hand after an hour long conversation with my mom while she ate pancakes and tried to keep the dog off the dining room table. Sometimes it just takes that sort of motivation to get me moving. Hopefully I'll get my grade back sometime today. Something tells me that man is too closely related to Satan to take a Good Friday holiday like the rest of the Christ-lovin world.

You must call. I would call, but it's early and I'm sure you have the day off. We must THINK! Newly discovered Danny info! Evaluation is key!
My new "redneck boyfriend" doesn't believe in the following things:
* Hate crime legislation
* an equal rights amendment in any form
* gun control laws
* evolution (holy christ)
Is this really worth it? I haven't had fights this good since... well, we all know how long it's been. All those d.g. free years stretched out before me like a happy-liberal-hiking-trail with too-many "yes ma'am" puppy dog boyfriends following behind. Maybe it's almost too good to be true.
In Crisis,

Do you recall me ever being extraordinarily bad at anything? Get back to me on this.

Sorry I made you read that note. I was being spastic. You're more than used to it by now. Hopefully you've been able to get that image out of your head.
In parking-lot solidarity,

Thanks for being absolutely the worst in the world at keeping secrets. It always works out for the best for me. Hope you have the happiest Jesus-weekend ever. Is it okay to have beer and cigarettes before noon on Good Friday? (I think you'd be the authority on such activities.) *wink, wink*
love always,

I was being an anti-social, into-my-own-shit moron last night. I was flighty and awful and I'm terribly sorry. I'll make it up to you tonight at movie-madness in Greenwood.
forgive me,

To all other readers,
Allison over at bluishorange has a really cool post today. You should go check it out.
heather j.

Heather at 7:27 AM


Thursday, April 17, 2003

Some humor for the afternoon:

Heather at 11:46 AM


Wednesday, April 16, 2003

The good, the bad, and the ugly...
in no particular order

The Bad:
* Faculty meetings that stretch on for years in which the principal cannot give a straight answer to a single question.
Teacher: "So, do we have to give make up work to students who have been suspended?"
Principal: "You see, we can't punish a child twice; that wouldn't be fair."
Teacher: "Okay, I'll start giving make up work but that really doesn't make much sense."
Principal: "Well, technically, you don't have to since it should be an unexcused absence."
I'm thankful that I have any hair left on my head considering I spent two hours on the verge of ripping out every last one. Not that a bald teacher would have been noticed by a man who, on a typical day, overlooks fights, and can't even make the bells ring on time.

* The webpage for Dr. Cock is still on hold as I search for a reason to even do it at all. Oh yeah, I'll probably get a C or something ridiculous like that if I don't. Why don't I care?

The Ugly:
* The fact that I'm waiting for a reply to an email that I wrote to someone I barely know, knowing full well that said person is waiting for me to call while also knowing full well that I don't have the inner fortitude (read: balls) to do such a thing. If my cell phone hadn't died at approximately 3:52 after playing with it in the faculty meeting for more than an hour, I might have had the nerve to ring him on my way home from work. However, my cell phone was by far the most interesting thing going on in that meeting and I don't regret using it to occupy me. (well, maybe I regret it a little.)

* Uglier still is the fact that I really sincerely DO want to see him, even though at this point I can't remember what he looked like at all. When you have to end every descriptive term with "-ish", you know you're in trouble. For example, he has brownish hair and lightish eyes (maybe blue or green) and he wasn't all that tall, but he wasn't shortish either.

and at long last...
The Good:
* Tomorrow is Thursday, and we have Friday off. Thank you Jesus! (ha)

* A little bird called to tell me that Ashley has made her final college decision, so she will be joining us in the Delta (sort of) when the fall comes around. I couldn't think of a better pick-me-up in the middle of an all-together shitty week. In the course of five minutes I went from thinking that the most productive thing I've done all year was learn a lot of Golden Girls episodes to knowing that I'll have more than a reason to stay and continue living this crazy life I've created for myself. With Ashley so close by, all things will be possible.

Heather at 4:54 PM


Monday, April 14, 2003

Oh, lord help us. She's written a poem.

Heather at 5:48 PM


Is it wrong that I'm waiting to hear from someone that I barely know? I would ask for comments, but my comment buttons seem to have gone the way of the two dollar bill, Mountain Berry Kool-Aid, and Jello Pudding Pops. (I'm not sure where they ran off to, but Anya's are missing as well so I'm praying it's a problem with their site and not some catastrophic mistake with my template.)

At least I haven't gotten in the habit of hourly email checking. Yes, I did email him. But only after I had talked to him for a while online and then accidently blew him off by mentioning that I was chatting with a number of other people and didn't really have the time or intellectual capacity to keep our conversation going. Rude? Yes. But it very much goes along with the typical-heather "get it while it's hot" philosophy. Which probably isn't my philosophy at all, and more likely the philosophy of some long-ago girlfriend who happenned to be much better looking and capable than myself.

Yesterday, a dear friend told me that I've become a Pam Houston character in the most sincere but searing way possible. Where have I put my copy of Waltzing the Cat?

Heather at 5:26 PM


Dear sweet Lizzie and all other concerned and/or overly vocal parties,

I have the following statements to make in my defense. If anyone would like to contradict such statements, you may do so by posting on your own blog or sending disapproving email to me at As I said, in my defense...
1. "Bill" was indeed cute. Whether or not he remains cute is something I cannot answer to. I might not have been in the best state to make a true and lasting evaluation.
2. "Bill" also appeared to be rather intelligent, aside from the incessant insulting of Lizzie and his unyieldingly conservative viewpoints. But hey, who among us hasn't ventured to the dark side? Even Anya, princess liberal of the world (with me already occupying the role of queen) has had a figurative roll in the hay with someone who perfers elephants to donkeys.
3. Isn't that why God created porch swings in the first place?
4. Maybe I'll actually get in touch with him again and he can convince me of the merits of Pat Robertson. (Oh wait, he didn't like Pat either. Forget that one.)
5. If I recall correctly, no one was actually outside during the activities in question. So what in the hell is wrong with you people? If you were watching from the window then that is just sick. Get your own damn porch swing.
6. Lastly, all of you love me enough to forgive this along with all of my other transgressions. If I weren't out in the world consistently making an ass of myself, how would we have so many good stories to tell?

love always,
carol headley hickey

Heather at 11:38 AM


Thursday, April 10, 2003

desks and crafting... inevitable, beautiful disaster
My children are amazing artists. And as "Sex in a Shoebox" has progressed, beautiful things have happenned. However, one of the main side effects is that my room has been trashed at least half of the day for the past three days. The following pics are documentation of the aftermath.

Brian Friel's rather rustic play, Translations inspired the use of grass(?) and dirt in a set that now appears to be a barn with an elaborate tile floor. I now know that, yes, it is possible to create mini hay-bales using dry grass and a hot glue gun. And I also know that it's a bitch to clean up.

My freshmen are becoming rather jealous and anxious that they haven't been allowed to spend their time "creating" in my class. On more than one occasion, students have salvaged materials that have been left behind by Drama students in previous periods. One particular precocious student (read: bright but terrible), employed a stray role of masking tape to decorate her desk while simultaneously securing her notes.

And so, the creativity continues. It is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

*In other news, I'm getting better with the Blink. Lower percentage of absolutely blurry pictures. Better at locating sources of light. etc, etc, etc. Hopefully I'll be halfway decent in time for the weekend's festivities.


Heather at 5:02 PM


Wednesday, April 09, 2003

The Heather List of Why:
1. Why is it that since the time change I have perpetually been losing the hours between 4 and 7 in the afternoon?
2. Why must I wear a coat outside to smoke a cigarette when it is April and I live in Mississippi?
3. Why can fingernail polish only look good for 48 hours?
4. Why does my family have better things to do than sit at home and wait for me to call them?
5. Why am I happiest in my classroom when I'm essentially instructing art than when I'm doing my REAL job and teaching english?
6. Why do I have to come home every afternoon and kill enough flies to populate a thriving fly village?
7. Why is p.s. throwing a freakin party?
8. Why do I keep compiling and recompiling a CD in my head for someone that I'll probably never see again?
9. Why haven't I written in the real journal in nearly two weeks, knowing full well that my head has been more than full of things that have no place else to go except for those tiny lined pages?
10. Why did Ricky get kicked off?
11. Why has everything in the world reminded me of my sister for the past three days?

Today's shots from the Blink:
The "Sex in a Shoebox" (originally bearing the more educational "Set in a Shoebox" title) progresses as Waiting for Godot takes shape. Yes, seriously, this is going to be a set for Godot. And it's going to be amazing.

In the course of searching for perfectly flat places on which to assemble tiny furniture, my desktop was located as the best available flat space. Someone didn't notice my coffee cup. The following mess insued. This is the post-cleaning, during-test-drying portion of the event.

Heather at 6:31 PM


Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Celebration Saturday (copyright, MTC 2002)

saturday night:
+Carol and Nate reign as Monkey Trauma Center Dart Champions
+Faith continues her triumph as Ms.PacMan Queen
+Lizzie and John retire early, renewing their role as the nice, old, grand-parently couple that follows the rest of us crazy kids around.
+Great feats of engineering are accomplished (again) with the help of the nice people at Nestle.
+No one is haphazardly text messaged.
+A few of us get remarkably drunk. (as the good folks who trademarked "Celebration Saturday" might have hoped...)
+The "Adventures in Highlighting" portion of the evening didn't leave anyone permanently scarred.

and, of course, a good time was had by all.

Heather at 7:09 PM


The camera is here. Praise Allah. Does that necessarily have to be capitalized? Why don't I have any good muslim friends to call in instances like this?

So, in lieu of actually posting some impressive entry proving that I am indeed a talented writer and that I do have an interesting life (HA!) I'm posting one of the first pictures I took this afternoon. Most of them are crap, but I fell like they're my babies. So, if my babies are ugly, just smile and compliment them anyway. Just so you know, the windows in the pic are my view while I gaze out the window attempting to think of witty things to post on this damn blog.

Question: Anybody have any good ideas for a theme party??

Heather at 6:43 PM


Monday, April 07, 2003

You would think, in this time in the world's history, that when one orders something from a reputable business and then has that something shipped via another reputable business, that said something would arrive in a timely manner. That, my friends, appears to be less than the truth. So, for everyone's amusement, the following information is the tracking data on my yet-to-arrive digital camera:

Date Time Location Service Area Checkpoint Details


Apr 07, 2003 03:15:00 PM MEMPHIS TN US ARRIVAL SCAN
Apr 02, 2003 06:18:31 PM CARROLL NH US ORIGIN SCAN
Mar 31, 2003 07:03:00 PM JACKSON MS US UNLOAD SCAN
Mar 31, 2003 05:12:00 PM JACKSON MS US ARRIVAL SCAN
Mar 28, 2003 01:05:52 PM HODGKINS IL US ORIGIN SCAN
Mar 25, 2003 01:15:41 PM FERNLEY NV US SHIPPED

Too many stops for one tiny camera. I'll be surprised if it's still in one piece when it gets here. IF it gets here.

Heather at 8:07 PM


Sunday, April 06, 2003

The picture so lovingly taken below is supposed to be of Guy flipping me off. But thanks to the ridiculously low resolution setting on the webcam and the fact that I didn't notice that the resolution was low, the picture looks like crap and everyone who wasn't there has to be told that an offending hand gesture was being made in my direction.

Don't we all look studious?

Creativity Challenge: What are Lizzie and Faith grinning at on Lizzie's computer screen?
post any and all ideas in the comments for this post. :)

Heather at 5:49 PM


Saturday, April 05, 2003


Heather at 12:14 PM


Thursday, April 03, 2003

I'm not sure how I did it, but this thing works in Mozilla now. Go me! But, in the process, I seem to have lost the comments and the counter again. Guess I'll get them back during one of my many breaks tonight as I try to finish this damn project. Looks like I also need an email link and an archives link, but I'm really just talking to myself at this point. I doubt the redesign is all that interesting to anybody else.

Heather at 4:57 PM


Wednesday, April 02, 2003

So I just checked this thing on Mozilla, and it does look like a giant piece of crap. Help? Please? The problem seems to be in the blogger code but that's as far as I can get with it. If anybody can point me in the right direction that would be lovely. I'm beginning to think a person shouldn't be allowed to have her own site when she spends so much time asking for help frm her friends.

Heather at 8:25 PM


I'm going to bed early. The allergies have returned and I'm feeling a bit defeated. Things have righted themselves, in a way, with the whole teacher-manufactured essay thing. I had a chance to talk to the one teacher in the school that I can confide in today and she said quite a few things to ease my mind. If she ever leaves that school, I'll follow her right through the doors. On a brighter note, my seniors and I were resume manufacturing machines today. Incredible productivity in a relatively short period of time. It felt wonderful. And best of all, one of my favorite kids let me help edit her essay (which she wrote) and it was so beautiful it almost made me cry. Her essay will be accompanying a scholarship application that was only offered to those attending Lizzie's alma mater, so it would be the coolest thing ever if she actually gets the money.

American Idol was a giant letdown this week. I hope I never have to listen to a disco song again as long as I live. God bless my parents for getting married so young and completely missing the disco era so that I never had to listen to that crap when I was little.

Heather at 6:52 PM


Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Comments are back. The counter is back. I have the cool graphic with my title. At least I can do some things right today.

Heather at 3:35 PM


My job requires that I be a lot of things: a teacher, a big sister, a counselor, an organizer, a friend, an informed adult, a role model. And I love my work. I don't take it as seriously as many of my fellow Teacher Corps participants, but when it comes down to it, I'm never hesitant to get up in the morning and walk into the school with my coffee and gradebook in hand. However, after today, I am more than tempted to hand in my letter of resignation to a school where the problems seem so huge and so deeply rooted that I can never change the way things work.

A brief summary: I was involved in the selection of certain Seniors who were to be nominated for some scholarships given by members of the community. The selection process was wonderful. It was a love-fest of sorts, praising the wonderful students, many of whom are the reason I am happy to get out of bed in the morning. These kids deserve this money for school. They deserve truckloads of it. And when those trucks are empty, someone should refill them. And now, with the scholarship deadline set as tomorrow, I've learned that the school might be even shadier than I thought. While helping a number of students prepare their resumes and organize their application materials, it was brought to my attention that the vast majority of the applicants did not write their own essays. In fact, the essays in question had been written by their senior English teacher. In addition, a student came to me for help on his essay fully expecting that I was going to write it for him and left rather exasperated after I wouldn't give him a single word to write down.

If a school does not exist for the sole purpose of educating our children to be self-sufficient, intelligent adults, why does it exist at all? I am frustrated and confused and tired. I don't know what my next step will be.

Heather at 2:05 PM