The end of two thousand and ten, let eleven begin.

Well, 2010 started with the decision to move from St. Paul, back to Grand Forks to work as the secretary of the Anthropology Department at UND. I spent the first three months living at the America's Best Value motel, and it passed uneventfully, expect for on January 26th my friend Sonya gave birth to a little monkey. Not literally, of course, but he is my little monkey - a bouncing baby boy named Corbin, who I believe also came with an engagement ring.



I moved into an apartment on March 15th with my friends Ryan and Nick. We live downtown, above an organic food store, overlooking the Red River and the vision that is East Grand Forks, MN. It looks like a hill-less ski resort town in the moonlight, and like a shit hole in the sun. Not much to be done about that, I suppose.



Also in March was the birth of another bouncing baby boy, Elijah, to my cousin Sarah in Switzerland. I had hoped to find a kindred spirit in another March 11th kid, but he came on the 9th. Maybe that's close enough.



Let's see...in June we had the (now) annual Schlobohm Family Reunion with a little twist - instead of one day it was three, and instead of having it at Grandma's we had one day at my uncle's in Byron, one day at my aunt's just outside of Faribo, and one day at another uncles in Edina. And, as if that wasn't a big enough twist, we had themes: Hawaiian, All-American, and the 70's. I wore a dress in Hawaii, got sunburned and played volleyball in America, and was Mork (of Mork and Mindy) for about 25 minutes until my duct taped shirt's insulation threatened me with spontaneous combustion.



For the Fourth of July I met Sonya in Mil Lacs, and spent some time swimming and hanging out with her and the kids. Mary came up that day too, with her boyfriend Jesse, to watch the fireworks.

By August school was starting and I signed up for my three free classes: Philosophy of Economics, Creative Writing-Fiction, and Algebra. My job became slightly more complicated with the return of all the students, but it was a welcome complication. I also like when the student workers come back, they're very entertaining, and have really manned up to the task of keeping their old boss amused and free from unnecessary humming and pacing - we all know how I get in confined spaces. I hope they like their job, and appreciate having a boss that is flexible and understands how it is to be a student. Should they, unlike their boss, choose to participate in the real world, they will see how good they had it. Sometimes I'm too flexible, but you only live once, right? And who wants a boss who lives in the real world anyway? But, perhaps a New Year's resolution?

We had the Benson Family Picnic in Rochester the first weekend in August...the 7th, it was my sister's 22nd birthday. My mom's cousin gave everyone quite a scare when she wouldn't wake up the morning of the reunion and was rushed, conveniently, to Mayo. It's a long story involving a lot of information I "know" but don't really know, but she seems to be making an astounding recovery considering she had a large amount of white on her brain scans, and suffered spontaneous effects of brain damage weeks after arriving back home.

The smoking ban went into effect in Grand Forks on August 15th - just one step closer to making it illegal to emit any fumes in public - all the douche bags who like to fart or chew bubblegum in confined spaces are goin' down.

September through mid-December is kind of a blur. My friend Naomi had a baby boy named Dwight. Year of boys, I guess. One day I worked 24 hours straight, at three different places. I wrote my first official letter of complaint against my so-called "boss" and gave it to my actual boss. I got a B on my first graduate level paper, and an A in the class, from a notoriously difficult professor with whom I have had many times, usually ending with a grade of B or C. I'm tickled.

Now, here we are: 1-1-11. One year away from the year of the end of the world as we know it. It's so exciting. I suspect this year will bring an array of boring and not-so-boring events, but I look forward to it. Time goes by more quickly when I'm busy, and I do plan to rush these next few years, but not so much that I miss out, because I hate to miss out.

I'm thinking of doing a drawing a day and blogging about it. I've already done today's.



Happy New Year. As Otis Redding (and everyone else who's ever tried to) sang in White Christmas , may your days, may your days be merry and bright.

Bert the Duck and Cover Turtle

Holy shit, I have no life again. School is done. I'm sure I botched my 20 page paper on the freedom from coercion versus standard of living/quality of life...whatever that means. I should have chosen a less complicated topic, as usual, but whatever. I think I managed to hang onto my D in Algebra, maybe even bumped it up to a C...that's pushing it though. My creative writing class should be the saving grace in all of this, I did a massive rewrite of my second story. Even if the teacher hates the story, I did a full on throw away of all but the first page, so if that's not editing, I don't know what is.

I have now watched Tron twice, started the first season of Damages, watched two episodes of Brothers and Sisters, watched It's a Wonderful Life, Meet Me in St. Louis, and Everybody's Fine (which, by the way, I cried through almost the entire thing, for who knows what reason), and Prancer (which I proceeded to Tweet about all night).

All in all it's been pretty nice. I'm going to make a diorama, but I haven't chosen a scene yet. One of my roommates is doing the basement from Wayne's World. It looks pretty good so far. I was going to go to Michael's tonight, but of course we're having a snow storm...which is why I'm still at work at 4:49PM - I didn't bring my boots...or gloves...or hat...it was pretty nice at 8 this morning.

I had a nice conversation with my NASA friend. He's worked for NASA, that's why I say that. He has a habit of making me think about what the hell I'm doing here. He's been to 19 countries, worked for NASA, worked for the oil fields, has done archaeology all over the US, is finishing his master's in Space Studies this spring, and to top it all off, he want's to go to Harvard for architecture. He's a "doer" like I can only strive to be.

I'm going career hunting hardcore. There has to be something I would like and would be good for a significant amount of time. Seriously. Tomorrow though - I'm going home now :0)

Disney Town Murder

So, this story has me very intrigued. http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_death_in_disney_town

Here's my THEORY.

Disney built the town in 1996.

Walt Disney dies December 15th, 1966.

The man who killed himself, lost his business, in 2006. Here we have 666 - the first 6 in 66 was a safety net implemented by Walt in case Craig Foushee was able, by some miracle, to save his business.

Now, Craig gets divorced in 2009 - something Walt did not plan for, but which worked very well in his interest.

You see, Walt Disney had himself cryogenicly frozen...well, his head anyway, in anticipation of the scientific advancements that would allow him to get a new body. What no one planned for, of course, is the amount of pure imagination trapped in Walt's frozen head. When the thirty year anniversary of Walt's death came and passed without the necessary science to bring body and mind together, the people at Disney knew they had to do something before the imagination collapsed in on itself and vanished after 50 years. They built the town in an effort to begin the imagination release process - Operation Robin Williams - after the Genie, who is released from his bottle in Aladdin, just as Walt's imagination needed to be.

The community thrived, performing seances every night to release the "Genie." Eventually they realized, too much imagination had been released...it had become a living thing...an obsessive compulsive living thing that demanded strict order and bright, beautiful colors and happiness all the time.

An unfortunate requirement for Mr. Craig Foushee who, suffering from his divorce and bankruptcy was not happy at all. The imagination rose up from it's lair under the town and latched on to Foushee, forcing every unhappy muscle in his body to revolt against the implanted happiness. He had no choice. He had to kill Matteo Patrick Giovanditto, who lived with his chihuahua, and was as happy as a clam.

As my (most likely one and only) reader knows, I love the X-Files. It was not a difficult leap to make then, when I heard about this small handbook guided community, who found itself in the midst of murderers, that the culprit is a monster buried under the ground, created by none other than Walt Disney, and, in fact, is Walt Disney.

Please remember, this is all speculation, and 95% imagination. What happened to both victims, which I believe both of them are, is absolutely terrible and heartbreaking. Surely even they would admit though, that it's straight out of the X-Files, and I'm sure Disney doesn't mind a little imagination in the face of travesty. May they all rest in Disneyland.

You heard it here first.

The end.

P.S. To my reader: Meet me in Hawaii in three years, haha.

Gnivigsknaht

It's official, I will not be living in Minnesota. Maybe I'll have a summer cabin or something if I ever strike it rich, but Minnesota has way too much baggage. I like being available for things and events and what not, but good god, all I ever think about it the next thing I need to do. My life in Minesota has always revolved around other people, and while I enjoy that in small doses, I need a place to go when it's all over, and currently that place is my parents couch or my sister's bedroom, where I happen to be at this very moment - using her computer because my parents don't have wireless internet and I'm too lazy to crawl under her desk to get the cord.

I love my friends and I love my family, but I like this lifestyle a little too much, I think - I have no responsibility except actually making it to all of my destinations. I rarely have to bring anything, except myself. I am the "That Crazy Amy." The problem is, I have a life outside of this, a life that has responsibility, expects things of me, and demands a pretty big chunk of my focus. Although, after this semester that demand will go down, and I certainly have chosen the responsibility, but the 90% of the time I spend in North Dakota is terribly boring otherwise, and unfortunately I can't just shut school off two weeks befoe finals.

Thanksgiving was nice - good food, good people, bad sports on TV. It always goes by so quickly. You see these people a handful oftimes a year and your supposed to catch up with all of them in just a few hours, most of time, while eating. But then at the same time, it probably why everyone still gets along and has fun the whole time - no one really knows anyone.

And, on that note, I am being beckoned by children and I can not refuse. More later.

Tim O'Brien - The Things They Carried

Joel Lardner

I am currently rereading The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, in preparation for the arrival of said Tim O'Brien in Grand Forks, this Thursday.

I'm always a little torn when it comes to war stories, because I often feel like it's science fiction in a biographical cloak. That is not to say I think war stories are science fiction, but what often happens is the stories which are so unbelievable, yet true, get reduced to the normal stories of war. I realize part of the message of these kinds of books and part of the effects of being in a war is that the fantastic and horrifying become nondescript, and day to day - in a way that people can or cannot manage.

However, I do not believe that the transition from non-war to war for drafted soldiers would also be so "by the book." Some live, some die, some freak out, some get medals, some tell the stories, some make the stories, some struggle more, some struggle less - like it's just the experience of a normal section of humanity dropped into a unusual situation. The movie Dangerous Minds comes to mind (thanks to the new version being made), or any of about 1,000 stories.

In stories, most people 1) survive their unusual experience, 2) do not end up with PTSD.

I haven't decided on Tim O' Brien's stories. I read them in high school, and now I'm reading them again in a slightly different world. The really strange part about all of this is that war stories are often written by soldiers - soldiers who did or saw or lived the stories they are telling, and here I am saying it's too easy to make the stories normal - why not pull a Superman out of war? Are the soldiers who come back the same kids who left? Are the soldiers who come back the same soldiers who were in combat? I would argue not, but then someone will inevitable ask if we are ever the same after life-changing experiences, and I would argue that yes, many people are the same, but in war, most people are not. High school graduation is is the first step toward major life changes, but it is not what drives the personality change.

Ok, ok, I'm getting carried away before I've even reread a third of the book, I'm "responding to." I may or may not come back to this, but it is all to say that Tim O'Brien is coming here on Thursday and I'm excited for some academic social activities.

Weekend!

Well, I have this weekend off, and by off I mean totally off, no work, no driving ridiculous distances, a little bit of reading and homework, but I don't have to leave my house if if I don't want to. This hasn't happened since some time back in April I think...whenever I started working "every other weekend" which really means every weekend, and a couple days out of the week. I've worked 60+ hour weeks ever since, and now that school's started I dropped the hotel some, but picked up...Economics.

I get home Mondays around 8PM, Tuesdays around 9PM, Wednesdays around 8PM, Thursdays around 9PM, then Friday at 5PM, but I work at 11PM, so I go right to bed. Then, I get done Saturday at 7AM and usually return by 9PM. Of course, this all on a good week. It wasn't long ago that on a Friday I worked 8AM-4:30PM, 5PM-12AM, 12AM-8AM. All at different places. Needless to say, this is how I look most days...




Not this weekend though. This weekend, I'm going to look like this...



Or maybe this, if I play my cards right...



Agh, who I'm I kidding. I don't like to drink much. Then again, I haven't been to a bar since the smoking ban in mid-August. We'll see what happens.

My new tatoo.

I think I might have to get me one of these.