tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7403533974781135312024-03-13T01:24:17.725-07:00Aubrey Maelittle adventures Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-8396480248635556162013-06-08T16:21:00.000-07:002013-06-08T16:21:33.325-07:00A Freakin' Rock Star<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A rock star.<br />
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Ever feel like you were given innate passions and desires but not the talents to go with them? This is exactly how I feel. My immediate and usual response to this question, every time (hands down) is a rock star. No doubt.<br />
My childhood was filled with my own personal rock concerts, with my stuffed animals as my groupies and most supportive fans, and my bed as the perfect stage to my rock concerts. And where would I have been without my hairbrush microphone? I was a hard-working rock star in training. I memorized all my songs. And I had variety! From Mariah Carey, to Whitney Houstin (who in their right mind could resist The Bodyguard soundtrack!), to Green Day (Basketcase...need I say more?) and Offspring ("gotta keep 'em separated").<br />
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And you know how rock stars have to be crazy, right? Well, I possess that kind of crazy. But the thing I lacked, which is apparently very important, is, well, talent. I mean I can sing, but in that country,-bumpkin-sweet-lullabye, kind of way (according to myself of course).<br />
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I love the idea of being able to rock your way through life, as an outlet for anything and everything. The passion in being a rock star moves me. Jamming across the piano, strumming the guitar to a broken-hearted song, or just being able to jump up and down, yell, and sing. That would be my dream. My ultimate dream.<br />
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In reality, I am a teacher. Now, you may think I've settled for something less, traded my "dream" for a practical life job, or just live my life passion-less. I disagree.<br />
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I teach kids every day, and I love it. They are my every day audience, watching me not for entertainment, but for inspiration for their future, for the courage to believe they are smart and capable, and the encouragement to keep going when they feel like they've failed. I get to dream for them, for what they can become. I get to see little victories every day. I get to see them accomplish things they never thought they could. I get to see the change I make in this world, every day. And this makes me feel like a rock star, and not just any rock star, but a FREAKIN' (jumping up and down, sliding across the classroom floor, and yelling) rock star.<br />
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Any other freakin' rock stars out there?Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-52240610908955850502013-04-17T17:40:00.000-07:002013-04-17T17:40:35.122-07:00I Hated, Then I Loved<!--StartFragment-->
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><a href="http://www.yahighway.com/" target="_blank">Road Trip Wednesday #176: Sister I'm a Poet</a></span></span></h3>
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I never liked poetry. Ever. I thought it boring and aloof.
Poetry was something that just took too much work to understand. I hated
writing poetry too. I thought I had to become some stuffy-analogy-hungry writer
(I’m sure I’m offending so many people right now). This was until I took a 20<sup>th</sup>
century literature class my third year of college. I felt inspired, and even
moved by how these 20<sup>th</sup> century poets, defied the “norms” in poetry,
and forever changed the way we write and read poetry. Even more exciting, was
discovering twentieth century poets and authors from South America. I know that
I’m going on and on, when all I REALLY want to do is share my favorite poem.
But I just have to tell the story and the boring details leading up to it (so
be patient, I’ll get there!). We had to pick a poem, by any author and write a
paper about a poem. I had never written a paper with a source containing so
little content! And this was when, I discovered (or my professor revealed to
me) Pablo Neruda. Saying his name (even if it’s in my head) stills my heart and
causes me to take a deep breath. And this was the poem I chose, my first
favorite poem:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Sonnet XVII: I do not love you as if you were brine-rose,
topaz<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, <o:p></o:p></div>
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or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, <o:p></o:p></div>
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in secret, between the shadow and the soul. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you as the plant that never blooms <o:p></o:p></div>
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but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; <o:p></o:p></div>
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thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, <o:p></o:p></div>
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risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or
pride; <o:p></o:p></div>
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so I love you because I know no other way <o:p></o:p></div>
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than this: where I does not exist, nor you, <o:p></o:p></div>
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so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, <o:p></o:p></div>
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so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Pablo Neruda<o:p></o:p></div>
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I love the darkness of his love, the inmost feeling that cannot be
seen with bright colors or flowers or even described but only felt. I have
nothing more to say so I will leave you with my favorite stanza, the one I keep
reading over and over</div>
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Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-54343289012666704932013-02-27T11:38:00.000-08:002013-02-27T11:38:47.152-08:00The Best Book I Am Always Reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.yahighway.com/" target="_blank">YA Highway</a><span style="color: purple;"> <b>Road Trip Wednesday: </b></span><br />
<b>What's the best book you read in February? </b><br />
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When I was a child, I was stubborn, rebellious and very willful. Out of all my brothers and myself, I was the most difficult child my parents had to deal with (they have said this to me many times). Even though I am grown and mostly mature, my rebellious, stubborn, willful self still rises to the surface and explodes out of me. Harry Potter was so loved and praised by everyone that my stubborn, willful, rebellious alter-ego self (or whatever that's called) took control. I refused to read any Harry Potter for about ten years. Many people pleaded with me, for the sake of my literary soul, to read Harry Potter. But I stood my ground and refused. I stood strong, that is, until my job required it of me (that darn pay check!). I had to read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to my first 5th grade class, as requested (but really forced!) by my mentor teacher. That was the first time I truly met Harry Potter and I just can't seem to put him down. I can't say it's been the perfect love story (I really can't stand the 3rd book) but even the parts I hate, I still want to curl up in bed every night before I go to sleep, slip into the world of Hogwarts, magic, friendship, bravery, family, and of course Harry. So to answer the actual question, the best book I read this month would have to be Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. And as I have moved on to the dreaded third book, I'm quite sure that when I actually finish, it too will be the "best book" I read that month. As it is, Harry Potter is the best book I am always reading.<br />
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Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-54758636622315212142013-02-20T08:59:00.000-08:002013-02-20T08:59:22.414-08:00Love is a Ridiculous, Wonderful, Powerful Thing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;">Road Trip #169 at <a href="http://www.yahighway.com/" target="_blank">YA Highway</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">What's the craziest thing you've done for love, or what's your favorite book/movie moment of someone doing crazy things for love?</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm always too serious when it comes to love. I am crazy but my "crazy" doesn't come out in love. I feel that loving someone is almost crazy and scary enough, that small acts of my love which are "crazy" for me are not crazy in reality.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am serious with love when it comes to literature as well. I am always captivated by Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth's romance as well as Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre. So when I thought about "crazy love" the only example I could summon was between an extraordinarily small and courageous mouse and a princess.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Love is ridiculous. But love is also wonderful. And powerful. And Despereaux's love for the Princess Pea would prove, in time, to be all of these things: powerful, wonderful, and ridiculous.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">―</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13663.Kate_DiCamillo" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kate DiCamillo</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1508178" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Tale of Despereaux</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you have not already read this book (which I highly recommend) you may be asking, "A mouse? How romantic can it be between a mouse and a human being?" I completely understand. I hate mice. Actually I just don't feel comfortable with any animal smaller than a cat. Back to the point, love sometimes can be so "powerful, wonderful and ridiculous" and a love story between a mouse and a princess can win your heart and also make you fall in love with a gross rodent. </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And really, who can't relate to this poor mouse? Don't we all love somebody, at some point in our lives, that we know they could and would never love us back? Not only was Despereaux small, poor,not royalty, barely literate, and a little (well mostly) unattracitve--he was also a completely different species. You would think with all that going against him, he would keep his love secret, as have most of us when we have an impossible love. But no, Despereaux was in love, and that love gave him courage, ridiculous courage to profess his love.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Desperaux," she said. He saw his name on her lips.<br />"I honor you," whispered Desperaux. "I honor you.” </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13663.Kate_DiCamillo" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kate DiCamillo</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, </span><i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1508178" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Tale of Despereaux</span></a></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That ridiculous courage did not give Despereaux the love of his life. The fact was, the princess did not have romantic feelings for the mouse. But it did give him a friend for life and that is something well worth the courage it took to love ridiculously and profess it unapologetically. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Despereaux thought that he might faint with the pleasure of someone referring to his ears as small and lovely. He laid his tail against the Pea's wrist to steady himself and he felt the princess's pulse, the pounding of her heart, and his own heart immediately took up the rhythm of hers.”<br />― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13663.Kate_DiCamillo" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kate DiCamillo</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, </span><i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1508178" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Tale of Despereaux</span></a></i></span></div>
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</span>Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-18350586573266059662013-02-14T19:03:00.002-08:002013-02-14T22:10:43.107-08:00An Allergy to Romance?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJVa7d_34BIz2ehwLdpnoV863Mp4SfewYjN_xTk4e0OpLIuB6kk77U9qlBon9UlPrtwLflqp_nb6xvuvzXRLazbzVrE-6-0_K13HWoIpQa3hR6AnR-LjVKqvnbz79xSm3EZuB8siubRet/s1600/fmc_FM97108x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJVa7d_34BIz2ehwLdpnoV863Mp4SfewYjN_xTk4e0OpLIuB6kk77U9qlBon9UlPrtwLflqp_nb6xvuvzXRLazbzVrE-6-0_K13HWoIpQa3hR6AnR-LjVKqvnbz79xSm3EZuB8siubRet/s1600/fmc_FM97108x.jpg" height="200" width="182" /></a>Am I allergic to romance? I get so uncomfortable and always have when it comes to these "romantic" designated days (this actually might be the only designated day). Even when I'm "in love" (which I currently am just for the record!) I still get all funky and weird and freeze up and just draw a blank. I was like this even when I was younger. My first, and only, secret admirer was in 6th grade and I still remember to this day my stomach dropping to the floor and almost puking when my brothers (of all people) found this enormous heart box full of chocolate covered cherries on the top of our car. And please, imagine with me, what that was like. Four brothers!! All having a very good time with the fact that I had a secret admirer and proceeding with all the appropriate jokes you would expect from four boys. Well, let me tell you more, because I know you are just dying to know! The card was typed! Yes, this one was a smart one. However, I was a little--actually VERY--terrified, mortified that some boy came to my house and put something on our car! I was mortified until my wonderful, completely unrealistic, imagination of mine convinced me that it was the most popular boy in school who was secretly in love with me. In the end, however, it was a friend's, older brother (who was definitely in 8th grade!) and whom I had never spoken to or even seen! And, of course, my brothers ate all the chocolate covered cherries.<br />
<br />Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-82869396169479561102013-02-13T09:06:00.000-08:002013-02-13T09:06:50.583-08:00A Simple Love <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.yahighway.com/" target="_blank">RTW</a>: What do you love most about reading and writing? </div>
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When I was younger I loved to write and I thought, usually those who love to write, write in journals or diaries. Well, I tried many times to keep a diary, and although having my four brothers snooping around my stuff was definitely a deterant, I also, just, couldn't get into it. I would "peeter" out after a few days. I then discovered that my kind of writing, was just writing my thoughts. I would write sayings or poems or quotes, or mini-essays (yes, I know I'm really qualifying myself as an official nerd). I remember writing this one mini essay about how what I wanted most in life was to be able to write my story one day and have it change one person's life. Believe it or not, that was my sixth grade self. But that was something that has stayed with me ever since. I believe the "written word" has such power to change lives, to touch even one person's soul, and as cliche as it sounds, to change the world. Here is a quote from someone much better at saying what I'm trying to say,<br />
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People read in order to feel and people write in order to express and I absolutely love the entire process. Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-10491024615348079372013-01-23T17:58:00.000-08:002013-01-23T17:58:30.213-08:00My "Stupid" Humor<br />
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<b style="text-align: center;">This Week's Topic is:</b><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">Good for a laugh: who is your favorite comedian or funny book and/or movie?</span></div>
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During my journey of discovering this "wonderful" world of blogging, I fell upon (and so grateful I did!) the YA Highway for young adult writers and readers. Every week I follow, and read, and have my own thoughts about wednesday field trips. I've finally mustered up enough nerve to submit my own response. And what a perfect topic to get started with: comedy!</div>
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After thinking about all my favorite books, I had a very difficult time remembering any that are remarkably funny. Being a drama queen in my own life, I tend to navigate toward serious, dramatic novels. Good thing this topic includes movies! </div>
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However, my taste in funny movies is also very interesting. I like the weird dumb humor that only I really laugh to. I do this often as a teacher, I tell a joke to my students, and they all end up laughing...at me, of course. My friends and I call this "stupid humor". It's so stupid, it's hilarious!</div>
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Ok, so finally, let me get on with this. My favorite funny movie, which most people have either never heard or or have never cared to watch it because it looks so stupid, IS...</div>
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Rainn Wilson (as my students would say) is EPIC in this movie. He's a thirty-year-old "has been" rocker, living with his sister and her family. His teenage nephew's band needs a drummer and ask him to join. It follows their journey to fame. Three teenage kids and a 30 year old drummer? How could they NOT rock?? </div>
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If you are looking for stupid humor, watch this movie! You will love it! Just make sure to have no expectations, then you will love it!</div>
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Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-43900956994850977032013-01-13T21:11:00.002-08:002013-01-13T21:11:58.978-08:00The Butt-Fart-Death-Grip<!--StartFragment-->
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ever since I could remember,
anyone and everyone, would always ask me this question, “What was it like to
grow up with four brothers?” I always felt a little speechless with this
question, and a little annoyed. I mean, how would I know anything different? To
me, growing up with four brothers was just normal. Well, “normal” for me. So, here I am, attempting to answer the question with memory of a common interaction between me and my oldest brother. Here's a little picture of what "normal" was like for a girl stuck in the middle of four boys!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Firstly, I need to communicate just how much bigger my oldest brother was than me. He was a good four years older than me, and was not some stringy, thin older brother either. And I was definitely a girl, meaning I was, in no way, stronger than him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Secondly, I was "mostly" (yes I do realize I was <i>probably</i> the typical annoying little sister) an innocent bystander to his "shenanigans". Most of the times, I would be sitting on the couch enjoying a TV show that<i>
wasn’t</i> football, basketball or baseball, minding my own little business. My oldest brother would come along, see that I was just sitting there, obviously enjoying myself a little too much, and
most likely irritated that I had gotten control of the channel box (aka remote
control). Then, all of a sudden, and completely out of no where and beyond
my control, he would tackle me down on the couch, manage to get his butt on my
face, and release a big, nasty, full of intestinal odor, fart. No kicking,
yelling, punching, or squirming could release me from the butt-fart-death-grip. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Unfortunately for me, this was a common interaction between me and my oldest brother and until he moved out and on to college did I see the end of these butt-fart-death-grips. </span></div>
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Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-5902162040988438652013-01-01T16:56:00.000-08:002013-01-01T17:01:07.584-08:00It Is The Music<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We all know that there is a song for every mood, every moment, that just captures the emotion and heart that words nor anything else can. I have felt this way my whole life. My father trained his whole young adult life to be a concert pianist. He is probably one of the most passionate men I know, and I admire him greatly for that. He won't do anything that he doesn't love. I hope, and some have told me, that I have inherited this quality from him. To me, there's no point to life, to every day life, if there's no passion in it. I love feeling passionate and I love seeing other people be passionate. So I grew up around a father who was very passionate, about life, about his reason for being in this world, and for music. One of my favorite memories growing up, was when my dad would sit down on the piano and start banging away on the keys. From "Saturday in the Park" by Chicago to "Let it Be" by the Beatles to any one of his classical exploits (that I don't remember), I would dance away in the background as he would rock back and forth with his fingers flying across the keys. Then I would get tired or embarrassed because one of my four obnoxious (but very wonderful) brothers would appear and I wouldn't dare give them another opportunity to tease me, if I could help it. I would sit on the stairs, pretending that I couldn't be seen, and just listen to his music. It was one of those moments, where I felt on the outside looking in, looking in on something magical, something passionate.<br />
<br />Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-18816551859383138242012-12-28T14:56:00.002-08:002012-12-28T19:45:36.908-08:00My Most Brilliant Ideas<!--StartFragment-->
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don’t just mean the evening, I mean night, like midnight to 2 am. It’s just
like my brain turns on at night, my writing brain and when I try to turn it on
during the day, its not available. I can’t even seem to squeeze one creative
thought out during daylight. But at night, when it’s dark, and still, and the
stars are covering the sky, and it seems it’s just me, my brain, and the world,
all alone. And then all of sudden, thoughts just spark and come alive, from
stories to thoughts about blogs, to hilarious moments, to ultra-moving and
inspiring quotes. But it’s my bedtime! And I have to sleep because I have to
get up the next morning and work with kids for 6 hours (and you definitely need
sleep for that!). So, I try my best to fight the urge to creep out of bed, into
the still dark living room, turn on my laptop, listen to my latest theme song,
and just write away. </div>
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F-Z51XdwWRbWI%2FUN5md5Z5SFI%2FAAAAAAAAFJg%2F6IQj9wjUQDU%2Fs1600%2FMnktn.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bh5-9_Qo0vCNa0ZIAaqR2uN7H1SK21kl3S-kG7x2WUFEUmCu_HXt-xXIp3QKzC94VXPLhafl0WQKPJ78o2Ci-O-byc4QpTYIdrhyphenhyphenwZuzic_Vd9Jke1EkhaPwZASlQrYW5eB5YEcTag-V/s1600/Mnktn.jpg" -->Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-19431995814609296742012-12-18T18:33:00.001-08:002012-12-18T18:33:50.616-08:00A Green Beginning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here's to doing something new and different in life! I've always heard that gardening can be therapeutic, not that I need "therapizing" at the moment, but I could use the rejuvenation of a little new adventure. So let meet introduce you to my three little guys. On the left, we have a concoction of three different mystery herbs (the tag listed nine possible herbs they could be without specifying which ones I had) and I'm not good enough with herbs to be able to smell and name. The middle guy, is lemon peppermint, which I did not know even existed nor did I realize I bought "lemon" peppermint. And lastly, is my cactus, which now that I'm introducing my plants, I realize I don't know what this one is either! Well, I guess this is a pretty haphazard beginning to my garden adventure! Let's hope this is not a foreshadowing of my success as a gardener. At least, I'm guaranteed that one will survive. I've heard it's pretty hard to kill a cactus.Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-58880209734781356032012-12-10T18:37:00.000-08:002012-12-11T11:45:34.069-08:00Hoping for the Best...Life of Pi<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=740353397478113531" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=740353397478113531" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=740353397478113531" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
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Have you ever found yourself reading a book, you get so into it, you just have to highlight that line because it was such an amazing quote? And then, immediately afterward, you feel all the effects of nerdiness spilling out? Well, that's me, every time I pick my new addiction <i>Life of Pi</i>. No, I have not seen the movie, and please don't spoil it any more for me than one of my brothers has already. To quote him, the movie was "finding nemo meets castaway meets the jungle book meets the book of Job". Finding that critique to be entirely uninspiring, I dropped the book for a few weeks and resorted back to the always satisfying <i>Harry Potter</i> series. However, the other night, I was in one of those, take-on-the-world-and-do-good-things-that-I-never-want-to-do moods and decided I needed to give the book one more try. And, once again, I got out my highlighter and my nerdiness and absolute happiness seeped out. Well, here's to hoping that the book is a million times more satisfying than the movie!<br />
Oh, and, I just have to share with you all a few quotes. I really can't help myself (really).<br />
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"If we, citizens, do not support our artists, then we sacrifice our imagination on the altar of crude reality and we end up believing in nothing and having worthless dreams."<br />
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"I have nothing to say of my working life, only that a tie is a noose, and inverted though it is, it will hang a man nonetheless if he's not careful."<br />
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"It was my luck to have a few good teachers in my youth, men and women who came into my dark head and lit a match."<br />
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"Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' then surely we are also permitted to doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation."Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-740353397478113531.post-20862486385640745982012-11-25T18:11:00.001-08:002012-11-27T17:21:54.067-08:00Who Knew a Tech Class Could Be So Interesting?I'm creative. I love art, even though I'm not very good at it. I love writing and reading and reading some more. I hate math and doing anything with numbers. I'm terrible at measurements, spacial awareness, and especially technology. I have a brother and a boyfriend who are both obsessed with technology. I'm always hearing (and tuning out) the latest phone, software, and apple product. They keep nagging me to get a new computer because the one I have is so old! To me, however, it's only 5 years old. I'll use it until it stops turning on, even though I can't itunes on it, the disc drive is broken, and it can no longer receive new updates. Needless to say, I am very technologically illiterate.<br />
When it came time for me to take EDSE 241, I was a little worried about dedicating a whole semester to a technology class. Among my many assignments for the class, I was asked to accomplish things I have never done before and never really thought very capable of. I created my first website. I learned about and fell in love with Prezi. I'm creating my first blog and will eventually get a handle on how to create a podcast.<br />
Those are the "techy" aspects of the class that have changed me but there are the fundamental ideas and beliefs set forth in this class that have also changed me. The belief that the role of teachers is changing in the 21st century. Using technology is a critical part of the future of education. My role is no longer to stand in front of the class and lecture and assess and grade. Instead, my role is to engage and push to inspire and equip my students for the 21st century, with its permeation of technology.<br />
My role and my passion as a teacher has always been to inspire and to instill in my students a belief and understanding that they could change the world around them. Now I know the tools to help them accomplish that task.Aubrey Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11722415098910141792noreply@blogger.com3