Why I (usually) like 8th graders

Writing notebook excerpts:

This was good: "Besides all that crap, I am a pretty beast writer."

This was better: "When we aborted the plain...."

This was so funny I almost had to leave the room: "Well, in my 5th grade lunch I was eating minding my own business, everybody was happy, yeah blah blah blah. We're young, we're cute, but when push comes to shove... it's going down at recess."

(SIC like whoa.)

Themes from the deleted

Kris and Kelly, Book Club

Anyone But Giuliani '08

Thanks to me, Rudy Giuliani is out of the race.

America wins!

3 good newses and 1 bad news

Good News #1: My blog comes up when you Google my name. Try it! Clearly, I am famous. I wield lots of power. Now, pay attention to which political candidate I endorse.

Bad News #1: Students could find my blog if they wanted, so I have to take down a few posts from which 13-year-olds would derive enjoyment.

Good News #2: I've taken up a new hobby: running with unicorns in a field of rainbows.

Good News #3: I found you a picture of a baby elephant.

overheardinmiddleschool.com (if there were one)

"I don't like those tight jeans because they, like, make your butt purple." -8th grade boy

Money problems.

Yes, yes, let's revive the economy through spaniels!

Do not give me golf clubs.

In real life, my parents did NOT buy me golf clubs for my birthday.

In dream life, however, my parents DID buy me golf clubs for my birthday. I wondered, "What made them think I wanted golf clubs? I wanted rent money, or maybe a few racquetball balls, or perhaps some chocolate."

I have a silly, silly subconscious. I also have a lovely, lovely momma who promised that she would never buy me golf clubs.

Friday night

Today, I bought a durable binder at Target. I said to the binder, "Binder, help me organize." The binder has yet to respond.

We can't shut up about this.

Should public school teachers share their beliefs (political, religious, etc.) with students?

Yes?
No?
Maybe, under some circumstances?

Please give me your opinion! Also, please give me chocolate with toffee bits! But first the opinion.

Mr. President, Abraham Lincoln is my regular-sized housecat.

I like to pretend Abey Baby is a little "big cat", like he is a runt tiger who would maul me if he could, but he is just too darn tiny.

How dead do you think I would be if he were 350 pounds instead of 8? He gets in these moods, see, where he rolls over and exposes his soft, flabby belly, just so I will snuggle him and then he can attack! And you know what? It hurts sometimes. It really does.

Haha! In the morning, when he senses I am awake, he climbs on my pillow until I lift my sheets and he can curl up next to me. Imagine if that were a tiger! Imagine if my morning snuggle were with a tiger! Imagine if I were a tiger snuggler!

The only thing weirder than snuggling with a tiger would be if I walked on ice and had flippers so that when my stubby legs got tired, I could plop on my belly and push myself along as if I were a penguin.

How to reduce both taxes and terrorism.

Price to effectively improve Afghani schools over the next 5 years: 2.5 billion
Price of the (arguably) ineffective Iraqi War: 488 billion

How will improving Afghani schools help us? Today, TIME reminded me that "every social and economic index shows that countries with a higher percentage of women with a high school education also have better overall health, a more functional democracy and increased economic performance. There's another payoff that is especially important to Afghanistan: educated women are a strong bulwark against the extremism that still plagues Afghanistan...."

Now, let's think bigger! Let's pretend we improve 10 Middle-Eastern countries' schools for 10 years!

(2.5 billion) x (10 countries) x (2 segments)(5 years) = 250 billion, half the cost of the War in the Iraq that has gone on for 4 years.

I'm just saying.

I am not trying to tear apart Nic's family.

I was recently accused of trying to tear apart Nic-Nic-Nicaroo's family. That is bold-faced lie and the next person who makes the claim (coughNic'sOldestBabyBrothercough) will get tied to a crocodile using lederhosen. (Please forgive me for the misplaced modifier. The crocodile is not using lederhosen. Rather, I will use the lederhosen as tying device. This is quite the sacrifice because I love lederhosen always and forever, and I do not want the precious garment ruined by a reptile.)

Here are some long overdue Nic's Family Interview highlights. This should be evidence enough of why this Shih-Tsu loving, Snack Drawer having, Cranky Curling clan should stay united.

This is Kelly Walden at the House of Horror.
Nic: HALLOWEENIE 2007! Wait. THANKSGIVINGY 2007!

------------------------------

Your daughter hung up on me once. Why did you raise her like that?
Ultimate: I didn't know about it. I never knew she would something like that. I raised her much better than that, but one day I went on the internet to check up on all the children I have adopted across the world, and I stumbled across information about this one I gave birth to - the one I gave my life for, practically - and saw that she was interviewed by her friend, Kelly. I thought, "I'm going to read this! It is going to be so funny!" That is exactly what I thought. Then I scrolled down, and the interview was rude. It was rushed. It was showing favoritism for people who lived in Bellingham, which I know firsthand is what she does. And then it was over.

So if you could go back and change anything about your life raising Nicole, like if you gave birth to her, or fed her, what would you change?
I think we would raise her more like Swiss Family Robinson, so she would appreciate the earth and natural things like trees, plants, friendship, and love. And alligators.

------------------------------

Ryan, remember when your voice wasn't so deep?
::pause::
::whispering in background::
No.

I would like the reader to know that a certain "Ultimate" is coaching her son's answers. I would also like the reader to know that Nicole is screeching and lifting her shirt to scare the dog. Now, Ryan, I hear you're a poet. Give me a poem!
I don't have them committed to memory. There are too many of them.

If you say that again, I will punch you. Ryan, give me a poem!
Once again, I do not have any of them committed to memory.

I am punching him. Can you give some topics?
Love.

And... Mexican Waxes? [Context: Mexican Waxes, according to the Nic's Family Patriarch, are like Brazilian Waxes for men. Men have jalepenos, you see.] No. Just love.

Ok. Since we are only getting "love" from RJ, we are moving to Derek, chess extraordinaire, who is currently being tormented by two reddish dogs. Derek, say something brilliant to me.
Hellllooooo.

Elaborate.
Um.
::whispering from the family::
Y=MX + B

------------------------------

Math formulas, poetry, and motherly guidance - those are the reasons that the RADEN/JOBES STAND UNITED.

Oryza glaberrima

My former roommate, Courthouse*, directed me to this awesome website where you answer vocabulary questions to earn food for people! Here is the most intimidating example I could find:

Hemidemisemiquaver means:
2. disbelief
3. chore
4. sixty-fourth note
5. pituitary gland

Mm hm, I got it right. (Break it down, folks. Break. It. Down.)

I imagine her blog will continue to provide me with new, satisfying ways to procrastinate.

*Courthouse also answers to Cunte (pronounced COON-tay), Crotch Potato, Corpsey, Coon Cake, Clamp-on Lamp, Dorky Corky, and Courtney Cline. Just so you know.

Context post #1

I like my classmates. Here is a group discussion we had between lessons:

D: This is a delicious cookie.
J: D, aren't you and your boyfriend on some crazy diet? Is this one of your cheat days?
D: No, those are on Thursdays and Saturdays.
M: Cheat days are great.
J: They really are! They recommend cheat days. My wife and I have them on Saturdays.
M: Yep, weekends are my cheat days.

C: What? Cheat days? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Are you talking about relationships?

All: Hahahahaha! Ohhhhh, C.

It's only possible because he's fictional: Atticus Finch > me

I have done more homework this past week than I would do in an entire quarter of my undergrad. I wasn't particularly diligent those four years, but still. That's a lot of studying in not a lot of days.

In addition to the scholarly work, I made espresso, hung out with the fam, and combined rice noodles with chicken broth to make what the roommate aptly dubbed "serf soup." "Serf soup" sounds a little like "surf's up." Both relate to sodium. Can we agree that's not a coincidence?

Yes, we can.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to all the studying. As our dear Atticus Finch says, "Simply because we were licked a hundred years before we started is no reason for us not to try to win." Except, you know, this studying isn't as important as Atty's case, and I wasn't licked a hundred years ago, and now I'm feeling bad about trying to apply the quote to my situation.

In sum, I'm studying hard, and I love Atticus Finch.

The Waldens, well, I don't know, we hear you.

"In my house, anyone who used one word when they could have used ten just isn't trying hard." -Fake President, Josiah Bartlet

I am sweaty from racquetball. My roommate is drunk from beer.

Me: Ugh. I need a shower.
Roommate: DO IT!
Me: Hahahahaha.
Roommate: Please make me shut up. Please throw something at me.

Maybe you had to be there.

Inspires me in the morn'.

My iGoogle (everything has an "i" in front of it now, even non-Mac stuff. in keeping with this tradition, heretofore I refer to myself as either "iKelly" or "iAwesome") posts 3 daily quotes. Usually, they're 1ame, but today I liked two of them. Read and agree!:

I know who I am. No one else knows who I am. If I was a giraffe, and someone said I was a snake, I'd think, no, actually I'm a giraffe. -Richard Gere

The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment. -Dorothy Nevill

Good job speaking, Famous People. Now, I am going to look up "Dorothy Nevill" because I have no idea who the h she is.

Edit: Back in the 19th century, Dorothy Nevil was a "hostess, horticulturalist, and a collector." I wouldn't mind being a hostess, horticulturalist, and a collector. I would wear one of these aprons.

No mention of baby pygmy goats!

Word on the street is this a legitimate sign at a Seattle elementary school. Another word on the street is that pot bellied pigs were all the rage 12 years ago. These words are related.

Funny quote that shouldn't offend but it might

Today, a classmate said, "If vegetarianism is Islam, then veganism is Al Qaeda." Apparently, he got the metaphor from a book. Ohhhh, books.

UW educators are frustrating, but I like the scientists.

Ten percent of our brains? Pshaw.

Spring Break 2005 - Unsent Postcard 2 of 2

For a little context, "my 350 class" was English 350, Intro to Creative Writing. It was silly and I learned very little, although I did write a memorable poem about the ant infestation in my old kitchen.

Spring Break 2005 - Unsent Postcard 1 of 2

The message is worth an enlargement and reading, if you ask me (and you were about to).

My parents in 1975

Taken in Hoquiam. Grandma Jean's house in the background.

Not goin' cry

I love happily singing along to sad songs. Mary J. Blige goes through the torment of giving up 11 years, and "besides the kids [she has] nothing to show." To deal, she sings passionately.

I go see Juno, eat some fajitas, and take a bath. To deal, I sing passionately.

My life gets two thumbs up.

Academia Saturday

<- This is where I study and eat crunchy peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwiches. On white bread. The room is in Suzzallo Graduate Library. It is quiet.

Please don't tell me if baby cows are this cute, because I think they're delicious.

My Outer Child

Remember when I swore I was blonde, and then I realized that my hair was the same color as my eyes, and my eyes were brown? I had to admit I was a brunette. It was horrifying.

Flying to Albuquerque, I came to a similarly difficult realization: I am not sophisticated and cosmopolitan.

I was connected to the armrest by potentially lice-ridden headphones and perusing United Airlines' radio stations. (XM? Sirius? I don't remember! Bad advertising, satellite radio company!) After a little bit of Avril Lavigne on the "Top 20" station (it's like Top 40, except half as cool), I started flipping through the channels. Then, a brilliant little ditty stopped me.

"My feet take me everywhere, take me off to anywhere, I love my feet. (Choir: He loves his feet!) Out into the street I go, dancing to the beat you know, I love my feet. (Choir: He loves his feet!) My feet, they got five little toes apiece! They bring you joy that just doesn't cease...."

It was amazing. I was smiling. Then the DJ came on. "That was Peter Himmelman with 'Feet." Before that we had They Might Be Giants. Remember when They Might Be Giants was writing songs only for adults? I'm so glad they're making music for kids like us, now!"

Yes, reader! I was loving the kids station! It's like I'm not even a graduate student who wears cashmere scarves and has learned to tolerate martinis!

So, I'm going to take away "mature-as-evinced-by-fancy-taste-in- music" from my List of Attributes. I will add "youthful." For your records, here is an abridged version of the aforementioned list:
-Youthful
-Jocular
-Racquetbally
-Accomplished
-Formidable
-Kelly Jean Waldenesque

I will hear your suggestions for other attributes to add, unless it is "Cooler-than-NicUnCool." Everybody knows this already, and I don't want to make her feel any worse than she already must, what with the personality and all.

They ask me how I do it, and simply I reply:

After a satisfying evening on the racquetball court, I decided to go professional. I looked at the women's pro league website and was even more inspired after the stirring "This is Why I'm Hot" intro.

But it's been an hour - ten minutes longer than my typical dream persists - and now I'm not sure about the pro future. I've changed a lot since I first made the goal of going professional. I've been head-butted by the cat. I drank hot chocolate. Heck, I even got into my pink sweats.

So, we'll see where the future takes me.

We agree that as a group they're rather stupid.

The KJW Analysis

New Hampshire votes tomorrow. You know how excited I am? So excited that I am AGAIN going to wear my red shirt, white camisole, and blue jeans. Last time, it was a coincidence. Tomorrow, it is pure, 100%, American patriotism.

To be honest, I don't care which of the probable candidates gets NH's electoral votes. I like both Obama and Clinton, and I will say yes when either of them ask me to run as their VP.

Hypothetical Person could ask, "But what about the Repubbers, KJW?"

I could respond, "First, Hypothetical, I'd like to applaud you for using the word 'Repubbers.' It's adorable and fun, and the right-wingers will adopt the term if they know what's good for them. As for my thoughts on the leading NH Repubber candidates, Huckabee and McCain...

"While I disagree wildly with The Hucks and moderately with McCain on most issues, both of them seem to have some level of moral fiber that Rudy 'Kelly Didn't Hate Me in the Debates But She Still Understandably Despises Me' Giuliani lacks.

"More importantly, however, is that the country would not elect a Baptist Minister into office. I would not allow it. I would put on an apron (mostly to fit in, but also because they're cute), stroll into those evangelical towns, bake them cookies, and tell them how my business-owning boyfriend hunts. Once they adored me and were convinced I was one of them...

...ok, I haven't got past the apron part. But I would think of something.

"And if McCain eventually gets the nomination rather than Hucky Huckerson, and then is somehow elected into office, I would simply frown and say, 'This is bad, but it could have been worse, and I will not leave the United States in protest.

"In sum, Hypothetical Asker, the Demmers will be fine no matter what. The Repubbers will either choose someone unelectable (and undelectable, for that matter) or someone not 100% stupid. Together, we can deal."

Hypothetical Asker could say, "You da bomb, Kelly Jean."

I could say, "Yes, a Democratic information bomb!"

Then we could watch CNN and eat unblended chunks of blueberry and banana in yogurt.

Appliance despair

My heart is broken, because my hand blender is broken.

I was preparing tomorrow's blueberry-banana breakfast smoothie, you see, when the machine stopped whirring. Clearly, it has something against alliterations. It had no problem with previous smoothies.

It's Frugal '08, so I must hold off on a replacement. If I were to buy one, though, it might be red. Or black. Or stainless steel! Until then, however, I will eat my fruit as a solid.

I'm such a trooper.

Blue ball jokes are always funny.

To celebrate the likely getting of a racquetball partner, I am going to show you this awesome picture I found online:

You're welcome.

Georgia O'Keeffe says,

"Singing has always seemed to me the most perfect means of expression.... It is so spontaneous. Since I cannot sing I paint."

Santa Fe: It Was There

I'm back in Seattle. It's cloudy. In New Mexico, it is not so cloudy.

I'll post more pictures, but here are a few taken on our Santa Fe day. (Intentional rhyme.) All are camera phone quality. In fact, a few are camera phone after margarita quality. Forgive me.

All the buildings we saw in Santa Fe were pueblo style. This was one of my favorite hotels. The lights are luminarias. They are, in my always-correct opinion, the classiest holidays decorations.

Here are the fellows in the Plaza. (Maybe it's just the "plaza" - lowercase. I refuse to spend time on official names.) (Well, any MORE time. You know.) Gabriel is on the left, my brother is in the middle, and John is on the right. I love them. These folks took my trip from pretty swell to I-need-to-go-back-immediately swell.

This is the Saint Francis of Assisi Cathedral. Actually, it is MORE than a cathedral (which, for you non-Catholic weirdos, is the church for the bishop of a certain archdiocese) (and you might not exactly know the definition of a bishop or have even heard of an archdiocese, but I am done being responsible for your education). It is a basilica! And no, a basilica is not some poison from Harry Potter. According to J & G, it's "a really old cathedral." Fancy, fancy!

Here, Brother and I hold on for fake dear life on a fake innertube being fake floated in by a fake woman. That was fun. This sculpture was one of hundreds (maybe) of art pieces along Canyon Road. Canyon Road is like the art version of... well, let's make it an analogy.

Kelly Walden's Room: Awesome
Canyon Road: Art

More to come, you sweet, sweet darlings.

Post #2 of 2008 is a doozy.

Ok, Brother taught me how to run like an iguana, so now it's out of our system.

After Carlsbad Caverns, we ventured over to the White Sands Monument, nestled snugly in the White Sands Missile Range. No thanks to a few coffee breaks, watching real cowboys buy burritos, and stopping to take unbelievable views (pictures to come), we arrived as the National Monument was closing. Boooo!

Here were the upsides:
1. We were not the victims of friendly fire via missile test.
2. The sunset was possibly the most gorgeous, purpley, Barbara Kingsolveresque sunset either of us have seen. (Us = you and me. I make assumptions about your sunset experiences.)
3. Sand dunes are weird and fascinating. They sprung out of nowhere in the middle of a valley between two mountains. The sand may or may not have originated from goblins. I'm not sure. Let the Google researching begin! But after this post.

Oh, ok, turns out I am done with this post, so the Google researching will begin now.

Edit: Some lake is responsible for the dunes. I don't like that. I will get together with the folks who named the Boston Massacre the "Boston Massacre" (there was no "massacre"! and the British soldiers were justifiably afraid for their lives!) and alter textbooks to better reflect the Dunes' goblin beginnings.

2008 has more cacti.

I am in New Mexico. I am in a wool hat. I am in teresting. Interesting.

Brother and I just returned from an overnight adventure in Southeast New Mexico. Our first stop of note was the Roswell Wal-Mart, where we peed. In the bathroom, I met this tiny green person who said, "Kellllly! Fly away with me to another universe!" I responded, "T. Green, I'm sorry. I am on my way to the Carlsbad Caverns."

(INTERRUPTION: "That was the night with the iguana in the bathroom!" exclaimed Andy. "Yeah! Yeah, in my bathroom! I came out of the shower, grabbed my towel, and there was the iguana! So I jumped on the counter for the second time," said Naomi.)

So, Tiny and I parted ways, and Bro and I got back on the road. We arrived in Carlsbad around 8 PM, reserved an affordable room with black mold (but no cockroaches!), and ate at Chili's. It was not delicious.

I am getting bored and I want to hear more Andy and Naomi stories, so I am changing tone and going to be succinct.

("For every shot we passed, he took it."
"It was the economical thing to do!"
"You could have poured it back."

"Not at that point.")

We explored the Carlsbad Caverns. At one point, I could not see my hand in front of my face. I tried really hard. Whoooa. Stalagtites! Sulfuric acid! Stupendous scenes! Look at this picture, and realize it is a 1,000 times cooler. That is how amazing it is. I will go back.

("She drew the plans in feet, but the construction workers built it in meters! It was three times as big as it was supposed to be!")

Ok, I am enjoying this conversation too dang much. You'll hear about White Sands later. Probably. And remind me to tell you about New Year's Eve, especially the fake bull in the neighbor's backyard. Yeehaw, 2008!

("Do you remember how the iguana moved in Rescuers Down Under? That's how they really ran! Like this!" [Awkward flailing.])