The tragic misadventures of an American English teacher returned from abroad
It’s that time of year again: my Firefly anniversary. Been in love five years now. Looking back, I realize I missed this day from 2009; I suppose yet another reason England and I have a complicated relationship.
Is it wrong that I kinda want to skip watching Bushwhacked? It is definitely my least favourite episode.
Keep flyin’ – Can’t Stop the Signal
You can’t take the sky from me
I can’t remember what game it was exactly, but whilst watching a Bulls game on TV, I realized one of the dancers looked really familiar, like one of the dancers I knew from the Redline Express at Illinois State.
So I looked up the Luvabulls, and it turns out it is a girl I knew from my marching days.
Good on you, Carissa!
For some reason, I find this really cool.
For whatever reason, that is the phrase I seem to be repeating to Tiger. I should really change it up to “Watchoo!” and then build on it to become “Whatchu doin’?” like so many other budgies I’ve heard say, but “Hey Tiger, Tiger” seems to be sticking for me.
Anyway, for those of you who have not seen Tiger, and if you care to, meet Tiger:
Tiger is still a bit discombobulated. He won’t voluntarily step up on my finger to take him out of the cage, but he will eat from my left hand when it is presented to him. I can pet Tiger with either hand as well. Today when I took Tiger out of the cage to roam around on the floor, he voluntarily came to my right index finger.
Tiger is still very quiet as well. I tried to get him to respond to Sven, but perhaps Sven’s language is too complex for him. He responded to a few baby budgie videos, and strangely enough, Tiger likes Glee’s cover of “Don’t Stop Believin’” and “Rehab”.
This morning when Tiger was scratching his head, he lost his balance, and fell off his perch. I tried not to laugh, but it was pretty funny. I asked Toni if that made me a bad owner; she said it doesn’t.
From the coloring, I actually think he’s a dominant pied dilute, not a cinnamon.
So yeah, that’s Tiger, Tiger.
1. Budgie
As many of you know, I have been obsessed with getting a new budgie. I’d talked myself into waiting many times already (I’d wanted one since first being back).
I finally caved.
Tiger looks to be a cinnamon mutation dominant pied. For the record, I’m not too certain about the cinnamon part. His coloring looks a bit more brown than the usual black so that is what gives me that notion. I am also not completely certain of Tiger’s sex as Tiger is still an adolescent budgie; the cere (nose) won’t change to the proper coloring until Tiger is mature. I have the feeling it’s a girl, but I’m somewhat hoping for a boy since most of the male budgies I’ve owned have all had easygoing temperament.
Here’s hoping that Tiger will be a good budgie. So far, he is really quiet. It has been over ten years since I have trained a store-bought budgie. I am concerned about his lack of chirping but I’ve read that this is pretty common in new budgies. I also feel bad for the little guy; he went from having a huge flock of friends to just chillin’ out with me.
Once Tiger figures out I’m a decent human, I’m hoping to be able to clicker train him to do tricks like Duke Budgie.
Okay. So, the last few times I’ve had to put gas in the car, I’ve had some issues. The way I remember it, you selected the grade, begin fueling, and pay afterward either at the pump or at the cashier inside. I’m pretty sure that’s how it was supposed to happen the last time I was home in early September 2008…right?
The first time I put gas in the car since coming back from England I had some malfunction with paying where I ended up having to go to the cashier despite trying to pay with a card. I thought nothing of it at the time; maybe I hit the wrong key or something. To be honest, I can’t remember if there was a time between then and now, but tonight/just after midnight (early Thursday) I seemed to have some kind of malfunction again!
I pulled into the Mobil station at the corner of Golf and Higgins. I did the whole select grade thing, but the screen never told me to “Begin Fueling”. I waited patiently, thinking there was simply some kind of delay. When it got to be minutes, I thought perhaps there was something wrong with the pump. Okay, no big deal, just go to a different one.
Getting back in the car, I drove around the corner to a different pump, one on the opposite side of where I had originally parked. Once again, I selected the grade and waited. Nothing happened. The gas station attendant came out and asked me if I intended to pay at the cashier. I told him no, I had a card. He then instructed me to insert the card first.
What? Has that always been a thing? When the hell did that become a thing?
There was also some mishap with the credit card I selected where it prompted me to key in a five-digit code. It was my dad’s card so not only did I not know the code, but I also don’t remember ever having been prompted to key in anything when using a credit card. I got mildly flustered and just ended up using my debit card anyway.
I was again perplexed when the pump stopped at $30. I wondered if it had actually filled up. Not wanting to be anymore embarrassed than I already was, I decided to forget about it and just leave. (It just so happened that to fill up was a flat $30.)
The experience made me wonder how the hell I could have forgotten how to pump gas. Have I really forgotten? If so, could someone perhaps give me a tutorial on how to fuel up my car without embarrassing myself?
So the last time I went to the dentist was when I was home for Christmas 2006; as in it was my first year in Japan. I was mildly convinced that coming home from England would result in cavities or something, you know, ‘cuz the English are stereotypically known for bad teeth and the like.
Huzzah! No cavities for jesspepsi! 
Check that out! My dentist was like, “However you’ve been taking care of your teeth while you’ve been away seems to be going well, so keep it up.”
Huh. I vaguely wonder if being home in the States will change this.
When I was leaving, the receptionist asked me if I wanted to make my next six month check-up appointment. I declined saying that if I’m lucky, I won’t be in the country in six months. 
Yay no cavities!
Yeah…this is sad. Like, bare sad (not to be confused with “bare sick”). At least, I find it sad that I still struggle to blog even when I am in mine own home. Being a freak can be really annoying.
I have spent this time at home reconnecting with friends for the most part. To be sure, it isn’t that hard for me since I’ve kept in touch with most folks as it were anyway. We have spent the time doing our usual thing: hanging out. I know, it doesn’t sound overly exciting, but it is something I’ve missed. Although, I’ve tried to be not as ridiculously needy over the last two weeks. I’d made a comment to the Settlers and all about how I find I can’t do much on mine own anymore and it was getting to the point where I just wanted to punch myself in the face for being so pathetic. I’m past it…sort of. You know, if I had been really smart about it, I would have finished some stuff from The Lost Chronicles whilst I’m at it. Some of my European misadventures are still un-chronicled. Although, now that I’ve mostly spoken with those of you (except maybe Darya) about what I’d gotten up to whilst abroad it may be silly to write about them.
Speaking of how I can’t write…my awesome NaNoWriMo project is going terribly. I’ve only just started to write something, and I don’t even know that I can rate it as “craptacular”; it’s like even lower than that! I’m near 1,000 words now which is a damn far cry from where I need to be. I need to find a good place to write. I can’t even remember how I used to be able to do this! I have an unfinished fic that I somehow managed to compose on John (Dell laptop), and I did that while I was student-teaching even! Curse you, Inspiration! Why did thoust leave me?
I also find myself in a reading funk. From the last time Now Reading let me update to now, I’ve read five books. Not bad considering I hardly read at all during the last year. I tried reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo but struggled to get into it. Fiona had said I would probably like it, and I did read something about it on After Ellen, which is where the book I read before this one, Ash by Malinda Lo, was also recommended. And yet, I find myself dipping into A Storm of Swords post Red Wedding. Seriously. Why can’t I read something new? And why, oh why can’t A Dance with Dragons be published already?
Oh! I had my fake birthday dinner at Texas de Brazil with folks. I say “fake” because it took place on Tuesday, about a week before my actual birthday. I also realized today that it has actually been four years since I spent a birthday at home; my 24th was spent on a plane coming back from the Philippines, shortly after my beloved budgies died. (They are buried in the back yard. In a plastic bad. Wanna see???) And, as many folk here know, I have become obsessed with Sven, the little budgie who lives in Tokyo. It not only makes me want a budgie again, but it also makes me want to move back to Japan.
My parents are crazy about England. I find this amusing. Not a week ago, my dad said, “Why don’t you move back to England and get a job?” I was a bit thrown off by that. And then just yesterday my mom told me she had taken this time off work because she thought I might still be in England and they were going to visit me. Again, WTF? Why do they like England so much where I was more or less miserable but insisted I come home from Japan where I was pretty happy? They are strange and so very Asian.
I finally got to see Up on Wednesday. I don’t know what my damage is, but I cried a lot during that film! I am now kind of glad I did not see it in the cinemas with friends because it would have just been very embarrassing. I am now strongly considering purchasing that movie, if anything because I find Dug and Kevin very endearing. ( “But you mussed up Atherton’s face and that has endeared you to me somewhat.” ) Who am I kidding? The whole movie was pretty endearing.
Have I mentioned how much I love breakfast? I have missed this meal greatly whilst I’ve been abroad. At least American breakfasts don’t have beans. I never got over that. Admittedly, if I were still living in London, I could go all the way into Camden and get breakfast at The Diner…but it would have cost me like a eleventy billion pounds! (Oh hyperbole!) So far, I have only been to Richard Walker’s once since being home. I believe that shall be remedied soon, however.
The part that kind of makes me sad is that I have become the slowest eater of the group. I don’t know how or why it has happened, but the last few times we’ve been out to eat, I’m like the last person to finish. I’m trying to remember if it was always the case; some part of me thinks not, but perhaps I just never noticed before. I first noticed this whilst in England and I was happy to pass it off as a trait I acquired whilst amongst the British. But now perhaps I was mistaken. Saa ne.
Now that I’ve been unemployed for much longer than I anticipated, I think I should just get it over with and get a damn physical. I’m not particularly keen on having strangers touching me even for medicinal purposes. It is a pre-requisite to be able to sub, though. I also need to get my background check and things done again. I am glad these measures are in place, you know, so bad people don’t end up with the students. But as a non-bad person it kind of sucks ‘cuz this will be my third time going through these processes (well, not the physical thing, but the others!).
Well, that’s it from me. I am going to judge a speech tournament tomorrow for the first time in three years. I hope I don’t squirrel a kid! (Def: When a contestant gets a 1-1-6 and does not break into Finals because of one judge.)
Phil and I were chillin’ out this eve and he made some reference to the movie Clerks. This was not the first time he’s said the title of the film and I couldn’t understand it, but I decided to pursue my linguist’s curiosity.
“Why do you pronounce the word ‘clerks’ ‘clarks’?”
I wondered if it was an “-er” thing so I asked him to say other words with “er” in them like “verdict”, which he pronounced /ˈvɜrdɪkt/ with the /ɜr/ of the American “clerk”. He also said that the word comes from “clergy”, again which he pronounced /ˈklɜrdʒi/. I’m not sure if he was trying to point out the error in American pronunciation or if he was trying to find the deviation. He thought perhaps the dictionary would have an explanation. I retrieved my Paperback OED and my copy of Fowler’s Modern Usage, which we utilized first.
Fowler writes: “The pronunciation of -erk, normal U.S., is now occasionally heard in Britiain instead of the long-established -ark, sometimes facetiously, sometimes seriously, perhaps by infection from America or from an excessive respect for spelling. ” (Hence the title of the post.)
Using the Interwebs, I tracked down this answer.
Oh the variations of pronunciation.
Yes, it is time. Not like “it is time to…” as in the convention. What a jerk. Well, okay, I can’t blame Time completely since it’s one of those things that happens to one and all. I think I’m just a bit frustrated ‘cuz it’s not like I’m reporting anything fun or exciting.
Here are the random things that have popped into my brain in the last thirty minutes or so.
I enjoy coffee. I have always enjoyed coffee, but it’s really only within the last week that I’ve been drinking it regularly. And when I say “coffee”, I’m not talking about the mochas from Starbucks. I mean proper coffee with cream and sugar. Fiona was kinda surprised that I like coffee; and it occurred to me that I refrained from drinking it at school, with the exception of after school. For reasons beyond my ken, I was incredibly reluctant to drink it before class. I think this habit will change once I start up at another school, though. So yeah, I’ve missed coffee.
Along these lines, I’m entertained by the fact that my unemployed ass has frequented Starbucks as often as I have these six weeks, and I had done so similarly when I’d been unemployed in Japan. There’s no deeper meaning behind it, ’tis just an amused observation.
I’m sort of re-watching West Wing, and I just finished “18th and Potomac”. I’m reminded of something Rob said to me about Donna. Really, why does she get told before Margaret of Mrs. Landingham again? That again just doesn’t make sense.
Why does Kaylee insist on disliking “Lemontech”? I can’t understand this since it plays fine on Jon Snow but skips on Kaylee. What is up with that?
I miss the field. It’s been four years since I’ve marched and I still think about it. I was saying to Phil how much I actually learned from the band, and not just music. “Pride, Passion, and the Pursuit of Excellence” — the words may have been painted over, but they’re still in my heart.
And a bit to my shame, I learned how to play politics.
I think I’ve figured out what I want next: an International School. I don’t know anything about the International Baccalaureate, but if I managed to figure out National Curriculum and GCSE I think I’ll stand a chance.
I wonder why I can’t seem to want anything in America. I also wonder why I couldn’t have tried for these misadventures when I was younger and had more time. (There’s that word again.)
Oh weird. The last time I thought “Hey, I’m writing pretty consecutively in September” was two years ago, right around the time I was attempting Mount Fuji. Two years…
Weird.