I don't have much to say. I finished Kate Chopin's The Awakening yesterday and - surprise! - no one lived happily-ever-after. I'm almost done with Stephen Crane's The Open Boat and, considering my generation, all I can think is, JAWS!!! (Which, sigh, is just me being dumb, as there is very little shark action in the story...)
And I'm tired of drowning in literature. And by that I mean of course, stories featuring drowning. Not, you know, figuratively drowning in too much literature (gimme a couple weeks, after my classes all start, and I'll probably have something different to say...). As it is, I've spent my entire summer, trudging around the lake, my pockets filled with rocks, thinking about Virgina Woolf's rock-in-the-pocket drowning suicide, scared that I'll fall off the cliff, down into the lake, and drown.
I go to Sierra, "CiCi, if I'm found drowned in the lake, my pockets filled with rockets, people are going to think I've done a Virgina Woolf!"
Sierra goes, "Umm, Mom? Around here? I don't think so..."
Of course she's right. And I appreciate the fact that I have the only fourteen year-old in the entire state of Texas who not only knows who Virgina Woolf is, but how she died.
But I've digressed.
The thing is, I don't have much to say and I've been all sad and stuff. I'm still not sure why.
I mean, sure, I don't want school to start. The kids' school, my school, subbing at school(s). I'm really, seriously, dreading it all.
Eh.
***
To update on Rainy's name change: I researched it all online, went to the County Court Clerk the other day and they're all telling me that you can't do it yourself, that I need to hire an attorney, blah blah. And I'm all, "No. I looked it up online and I don't..." Blah blah. But arguing with Texans in, sigh, positions of authority is like... I can't even think of a way to describe it.
And so I asked my semi-lawyer friend and she emailed me the forms to download but she's all, in email:
"Attached please find an original petition for name change (minor child) I put in the petition that Fran did not need served at this time. After you file the petition, we can send him a copy of the petition and ask him to sign a waiver, or else, get him served via certified mail. If you want to just get him served, the petition will have to be changed before you file it. I also am attaching a copy of your divorce. I thought you had said you couldn't find a copy. The filing fee for a name change is around $220.00 (file it in the District Clerk's office). The citation and service by certified mail will add another $83.00 dollars."
Ugh. Who knew it was so expensive? (And who knew I would get trapped in another font???) And there's no way that Fran would agree to the name change at this point. ('Cause he thinks Rainy should be stuck with "Francis Salvatore" for the rest of his life, named after his grandfather, a mean old man who disowned him...) And my friend says that if Fran won't accept certified mail, which I know he won't, I'll have to pay to have him actually served in person by the Sheriff's department in Everette...
So. Blah. I'll have to put this one on the back burner for awhile. Until I have more money and/or Fran dies (ahh, sweet, sweet optimism...).
You know... in my next, heh, life, I'm going to do this whole thing differently. I'm going to, you know, get my education, get a whole bunch of degrees, have the ability to earn more than enough money, have a wonderful home, and then, via artificial insemination, have all the children I want. Totally on my own (because that's where I'd end up anyway...). And there'd be no issues with child support, or the guilt that comes of seeing your children abandoned by an unloving, uncaring father. It would just be me and my children, but without the poverty part, without the sadness and anger and regret and grief and pain.
Eh.
More blah blah pathos, right?
I need to knock it off. Focus on what's in front of me, what I need to get done, what I need to take care of.
So. I have three classes this fall semester. Strangely enough, they are an English class, a Sociology class, and a Women's Studies class. (I know!)
I've already read the first two assignments that the English professor so kindly posted early. The Soci and WS courses aren't up yet, so I've just kind of waded into the Sociology textbook. There doesn't seem to be a textbook for the WS course and that makes me a little nervous, because I have this ocd thing going on, and I like to have my textbooks all lined up, all available, all mostly read by the time the class even begins. (It's a sickness...)
Eh.
Whatever, right? I'm even boring myself here.
I just feel... sad. (BoRING!!!)
Okay. Enough.
And I'm tired of drowning in literature. And by that I mean of course, stories featuring drowning. Not, you know, figuratively drowning in too much literature (gimme a couple weeks, after my classes all start, and I'll probably have something different to say...). As it is, I've spent my entire summer, trudging around the lake, my pockets filled with rocks, thinking about Virgina Woolf's rock-in-the-pocket drowning suicide, scared that I'll fall off the cliff, down into the lake, and drown.
I go to Sierra, "CiCi, if I'm found drowned in the lake, my pockets filled with rockets, people are going to think I've done a Virgina Woolf!"
Sierra goes, "Umm, Mom? Around here? I don't think so..."
Of course she's right. And I appreciate the fact that I have the only fourteen year-old in the entire state of Texas who not only knows who Virgina Woolf is, but how she died.
But I've digressed.
The thing is, I don't have much to say and I've been all sad and stuff. I'm still not sure why.
I mean, sure, I don't want school to start. The kids' school, my school, subbing at school(s). I'm really, seriously, dreading it all.
Eh.
***
To update on Rainy's name change: I researched it all online, went to the County Court Clerk the other day and they're all telling me that you can't do it yourself, that I need to hire an attorney, blah blah. And I'm all, "No. I looked it up online and I don't..." Blah blah. But arguing with Texans in, sigh, positions of authority is like... I can't even think of a way to describe it.
And so I asked my semi-lawyer friend and she emailed me the forms to download but she's all, in email:
"Attached please find an original petition for name change (minor child) I put in the petition that Fran did not need served at this time. After you file the petition, we can send him a copy of the petition and ask him to sign a waiver, or else, get him served via certified mail. If you want to just get him served, the petition will have to be changed before you file it. I also am attaching a copy of your divorce. I thought you had said you couldn't find a copy. The filing fee for a name change is around $220.00 (file it in the District Clerk's office). The citation and service by certified mail will add another $83.00 dollars."
Ugh. Who knew it was so expensive? (And who knew I would get trapped in another font???) And there's no way that Fran would agree to the name change at this point. ('Cause he thinks Rainy should be stuck with "Francis Salvatore" for the rest of his life, named after his grandfather, a mean old man who disowned him...) And my friend says that if Fran won't accept certified mail, which I know he won't, I'll have to pay to have him actually served in person by the Sheriff's department in Everette...
So. Blah. I'll have to put this one on the back burner for awhile. Until I have more money and/or Fran dies (ahh, sweet, sweet optimism...).
You know... in my next, heh, life, I'm going to do this whole thing differently. I'm going to, you know, get my education, get a whole bunch of degrees, have the ability to earn more than enough money, have a wonderful home, and then, via artificial insemination, have all the children I want. Totally on my own (because that's where I'd end up anyway...). And there'd be no issues with child support, or the guilt that comes of seeing your children abandoned by an unloving, uncaring father. It would just be me and my children, but without the poverty part, without the sadness and anger and regret and grief and pain.
Eh.
More blah blah pathos, right?
I need to knock it off. Focus on what's in front of me, what I need to get done, what I need to take care of.
So. I have three classes this fall semester. Strangely enough, they are an English class, a Sociology class, and a Women's Studies class. (I know!)
I've already read the first two assignments that the English professor so kindly posted early. The Soci and WS courses aren't up yet, so I've just kind of waded into the Sociology textbook. There doesn't seem to be a textbook for the WS course and that makes me a little nervous, because I have this ocd thing going on, and I like to have my textbooks all lined up, all available, all mostly read by the time the class even begins. (It's a sickness...)
Eh.
Whatever, right? I'm even boring myself here.
I just feel... sad. (BoRING!!!)
Okay. Enough.
I think I read somewhere that if you can establish need via financial income, the fees for name changes can be waived. Still doesn't resolve the both parents needing to agree thing, but...