thursdays mystery meat

oh, hey (and stephen)

2012-01-19T19:08:00.002-07:00

I'm writing to you from the thoroughly unsupportive cushions of my free (and much appreciated) love seat. Today, I taught the crap out of my students, and I'd really forgotten what that's like: I'm exhausted.

A trip to a neighboring charter school last week (where students, get this, TURN IN HOMEWORK. Mindblowing.) really reminded me why I've been in Oak Cliff, Dallas teaching poor kids for the last year and a half. The things I saw in that classroom showed me that even my seemingly high standards could be higher, and the kids could perform at that level, too. Aren't I so precious and Freedom Writers-like all the sudden? I give it until Spring Break to come crashing down. Nbd.

In other news, the amazingly talented friend and photographer of mine Claire Buys did Stephen and my engagement shots over Christmas break. She graciously let me show a few of them here, but I'm saving the best for the invites. Let's be real 99.99% of you who are reading this will be getting one of those anyway. I mean, right?

Claire's amazing, right? We worked together at BYU Magazine, and were fast friends. When Stephen and I got engaged, I immediately thought of her, and I'm so happy I did.

But, let's not discuss how much anxiety the salmon pencil skirt choice gave me. For days after I figured no one would see anything in the shots but my "birthing hips" as they were so graciously termed the other day . . . by a stranger. Luckily, Claire worked her magic, and all is well.

Enjoy, folks. Stephen's not so bad. (I mean, right?) Purposeful downplaying so as not to feel weird.

memory lane

2011-12-20T22:15:00.001-07:00

Because I have, apparently, unlimited amounts of spare time, my mind power has been taken up periodically with thoughts of the truly ridiculous decisions I've made in my 26 years. Wait. . . so, you don't do that? Weird.

Anyway, one of the instagram (that's the what the kids call it, right?) things I randomly saw included a random girl I worked with at one of those big box electronics stores randomly several years ago, who randomly had a friend who came into work on a day I was working, who I then randomly dated for approximately 30 seconds before I made lots of stupid decisions and was like: "HEYYYY!!! I'm CRRAAAAZZZZYYYYY!!! p.s. you should like me!" Then he did for about 15 seconds, and then didn't for the last 15, and it was weird. Except, in my head I was subconsciously sending him telepathic messages that said: "Dude, I totally get it. I mean, what the hell, right?"

I've been thinking about this lately, I guess, because getting married has always been, in my mind, one of those times when you take a kind of tally of Life Before Significant Life Event A and Life After Significant Life Event A, and if all the tally marks in Life Before come out to where they should, the whole getting married thing makes sense and Well Done, You. And if they don't . . . you're an idiot? Something like that. Like, did I really need to kiss that random dude whose name I can't remember, and who I never spoke to again? (Except, I totally never did that, OBVIOUSLY.) And, wow, Sarah, that was a lot of embarrassing situations crammed into a pseudo two-week relationship. Are there awards for these things?

But then again maybe all of that doesn't matter, right? because no matter the meandering (and misguided?) route you took, at least none of those douche bags ended up being your husband? and you stopped with the whole pseudo relationship thing lots of years ago? (Cue "God Bless the Broken Road." That one's for you, Emiley. *Dramatic Pause for Emphasis* You're welcome.)

And, not to spoil it or anything, but now's one of those times I'm going to tell you an "I-sat-next-to-a-random-person-on-an-airplane-and-we-changed-eachothers-lives-forever" stories. Or something?So, in talking to said random person on the plane, I found myself repeating the Sarah C. Adage of Birth - Present. "Yeah, everything's a lot more complicated then I ever thought it would be." (So typically existential for the aforementioned Airplane + Random Stranger + Missionary Experience or Otherwise Life-Altering Conversation.) Which is really true, and which could possibly explain the chasm between what I might perceive my Life Before should have been compared to what it Is.

And, I'm almost 30. And you can laugh at that because I'm well known as the person who calls themselves "almost 27" the day after their 26th birthday, but it's completely true. Like, I'm almost 30, and that's going to be a real thing that's going to happen, and there's not a lot to be done about it. And I'm getting married, to a man who will be my husband, and the choice is made, and it's him, and it's me, and that's what it is. And there's about 98% of my brain that's like: That's so cute that you finally got the neighbor boy to play house with you. Now let's go find the Water Baby and Strawberry Shortcake blanket to wrap it in until Mom makes you tuna for lunch.

So, I'm doing a lot of that tallying, I think, and remembering a lot of the decisions I've made that haven't been "flattering." I think that's a kind word for it.

It probably doesn't matter all that much. There certainly isn't anything to be done about it, that's for sure.

But these are the things I'm thinking about, and I'm assuming you're reading this because what I think about is of interest to you.The end.

wedding plans, general malaise

2011-11-23T08:07:00.001-07:00

If you could hear through the interwebs (wait . . .) you'd definitely be hearing the sound of the hacking cough I've had for approximately 6 days now. I'm counting, of course, because when I started feeling quite curious about the amount of (how do I say this delicately?) snot my body was producing, wikipedia told me the common cold lasts anywhere from 5-7 days. I was like, "Nooooo way." The universe (or my cold) heard that and decided to make an example out of me. So, here we are.

I'm in Utah for Thanksgiving break. When the plane landed, I'm fairly certain an angel flew up next to my window seat and gave me a double thumbs up. Could've been the DayQuil, though. Hard to say.

Basically from the second I got here wedding plans have been in full force. That's all happening April 12th, by the way. Reception venue is nearly booked, save the dates are designed and currently being printed (I'll post those forthwith), and last night I bought my wedding dress.

We should all just take a pause here for a second and recognize that I just wrote, in all seriousness, and not in a "I saw this dress and I really liked it for, you know, maybe someday," I bought my wedding dress. That's a mind-blowing thing, and I don't know that my limited mental capacity can really handle that at present. Moving on.

Overarching feeling about weddings: ouch. They cost a shit ton of money. I mean, right? And mostly it's weird because the money you're spending isn't yours, which makes it even more awkward and startling how much everything costs. It's like, "Hey, Dad, yeah, this florist charges $2,000 for centerpieces, but those are super important, right?" Uhhh. Awkward laugh and generally feeling way weird about the whole thing.

Luckily, I have some pret-ty amazing friends who are being incredibly generous with their time/talents/ideas/etc. (Hi, Danielle and Michael!), so we're coming in under the gun pretty nicely, I think. In general, though, I totally get the whole justice of the peace idea now.

That's about it, really. Other than the fact that Saturday I move into the apartment Stephen and I will be living in. Just five months early. No big deal. You can thank my soon-to-be ex-roommate for that. And the idea of going back to school on Monday/ever elicits overwhelming nausea.

Yeah, I think that about covers it! Cheers.

remember . . .

2011-11-11T15:39:00.001-07:00

. . . that time I was getting married? Whoa, there it is.

I'm marrying the poet. The one that I broke up with like four months ago and fled to Utah about. The one that I also happened to get back together with shortly after returning from Utah to flee from.

This is the part where I post a picture of us looking deliriously happy. Except I don't have one? We have ZERO (literally) pictures of us together? We're both not picture-takers? Neither of us have Facebook, so we have no motivation? I don't know.

We'll be getting our engagements done soon, so I'll put some up then.

So, yeah. There you go.

I'm excited about it, but conveying that on a blog just feels weird. Just fyi.

things i'm in need of

2011-10-24T19:16:00.001-06:00

1) Some sort of head de-fogging machine. You know. That feeling when you've a) eaten too much candy; b) watched too much TV; c) stayed indoors all day long; d) tried to take a nap for too long/actually taken a nap for too long; d) come to think of it, all of those things? One of those machines that gets rid of that sort of stuff.

2) A haircut/professional dye job. Something fierce.

3) A different theme song for Zooey Deschanel's new show. I like her (because aren't I, like, required to because I'm a twentysomething?), but her voice is a no. The show is good, though. I've even laughed out loud a few times. You know? LOL'd? Get it? It's, like, something the kids are saying these days. I don't know.

4) Lesson plans for this week. Okay. Judge me.

5) Someone else to pawn cheerleading off on. I mean, I'm not exactly sure, but it could be because I've been yelled at by parents multiple times already? or that I'm spending more of my brain power thinking about manang those girls than I am my own students? or that I'd really just rather do anything else?

6) A serious massage. Luckily for all of us, I have a year-long membership at Massage Envy here in Dallas. Gabe is my massage therapist and, a GENIUS. He wasn't working today, though, so this grapefruit-sized knot/kink in my neck will have to stay.

7) It to be November 17th. Because that's when I'm going home to Utah for Thanksgiving. And then the heavens will open and the angels will sing. And it will be several days before I'll have something new to complain about.

the updates

2011-10-10T20:56:00.002-06:00

1. I always do better with lists when I haven't updated in 100 years, so that's how we're going to approach this.

2. Everyone consoled my first-year blues with, "The second year will be better." I think they actually meant, "The second year will be better as long as you don't get a new principal, don't completely overhaul your curriculum, and don't stupid things like agree to willingly kick it with teenaged females for hours and hours after school." Those bastards left some serious information out.

3. I was super cute last year when I thought spending 9-10 hours a day at school was difficult. Let's just say I'm the first in the parking and the last out.

4. Those cheerleaders have really turned out to be just as delightful as we all thought they'd be. Luckily, my principal wrangled three other teachers to help out, but since I'm the naturally (shall we say) bitchy one, I get to do all the dirty work. This includes, but is not limited to: getting yelled at by teachers and getting yelled at by parents; however, it does not include getting yelled at by the cheerleaders because they know things would get real, real quick if they did.

5. I called the cops on 10 students who broke into a building after school a few weeks ago. Students who, mind you, tried to break in again even as I was standing at the door trying to keep it shut. Things were yelled at me such as, "Call the cops! Call them! They can't touch us!" I have a lot of hope for America's future.

6. All I want to do is sleep. I've never consistently seen 5 a.m. so often in my entire life. I liked it that way.

7. I wish I had funny things to write about to follow up our last post. But mostly I wish it were Thanksgiving break, and by that I mean I wish it were May.

8. My apologies.

things you didn't anticipate when you said "maybe" to being a middle school cheerleading coach (a list)

2011-09-06T20:42:00.000-06:00

Prologue:
a. That a, "Maybe, but I'm not sure exactly what [being a cheerleading coach] entails, (also I've never been a coach, let alone an actual cheerleader) so I'd like more information, and then I'll let you know if I'm down" email to your principal would become a school-wide announcement about a cheer clinic on Tuesday--from "Coach C."

Present Day:
1. That anyone, anywhere, ever would interpret that email as an agreement to deal with teenage girls at this level of interaction.
2. That at the aforementioned cheer clinic today, one of your colleagues would, quite sincerely, announce that all cheerleaders should smile all the time because, "Isn't it your job to always look pretty?"
3. (re: item no. 2) That you would ever be part of something that would condone such ridiculousness/sexism/blatant undercutting of everything I ever try to teach my female students.
4. (re: items no. 2 & 3) That people who say such things actually exist in the real world and not only in horribly exaggerated teen flicks.
5. That you'd be walking around a group of 100+ 11-13 year olds reminding them to smile/point their toes/stand up straight/etc.
6. That this now meant you'd agreed to three days a week of two-hour practices after school.
7. That all these 11 to 13-year-old girls are looking at YOU and trying to impress YOU as if you have a clue in the world what you're doing.
8. That somehow, unbeknownst to you, you'd apparently added to your already staggering list of things THAT HAVE TO BE DONE RIGHT NOW OR THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE in favor of coaching . . . cheerleading.

Oy vey.

143

2011-08-24T18:21:00.001-06:00

Oh, heyyyy. Remember that time I totally stopped writing on my blog because I had nothing good to say? Yeah. I remember.

Also, remember how school started this week and I already feel like I haven't slept in approximately 100 million years? Yeah. That, too.

Also, remember the time the sun decided it wanted to make Texas (and, therefore, all of us sentenced to said state) its biotch? Yeah, my lower back remembers that, too, because it's never been so consistently sweaty in all my life. (tmi? apologies.)

Finally, remember how I have 143 students spread between six class periods? Which is one more class period than I taught last year? which is 40 more students than I taught last year?

Just kidding about the finally, so, remember the time five of my students scored in the first percentile on their national reading comprehension test? Literally. Ninety-nine percent of students who took that test did better than my little babies.

And remember, finally (for real this time), that that wouldn't be so bad, and may even be a little bit normal, except more than half of my students scored below the 50th percentile? I really don't want to remember that.

Annnnnndddd . . . now I'm going to go sleep for 100 billion years.

points of interest

2011-07-30T09:36:00.001-06:00

1. The 4-wheeling excursion went magically. I had such a good time, and all of you who read this regularly (or even commune with me on a semi-regular basis) know how infrequently I use such language. The outdoors are awesome when you have thousands of dollars of equipment to ride around and conquer it on.

2. I'm nearly half-way done planning out my school year. Which means, hopefully, this coming year will be about 50 billion times better than last if only because I'll actually know what I'm doing ahead of time (and not have to plan my lesson the morning of. Shhh.)

3. I had a full-length dream last night about outfitting my classroom. In my dream, it was brimming with boxes of candy for the school store, and I was seriously debating whether to alert anyone to their existence. In the end, a janitor came and took them out. Ridiculous. But, this only reminded me that I will actually HAVE A CLASSROOM this year! Of my own! That I don't share! That isn't covered in Twilight posters! That doesn't have an eight-foot chalkboard that could very well be used for, get this, educational purposes but is instead covered in old comic strips, gift bags and the kinds of super effective anti-drug posters that kids have laughed at while shooting up in front of, I expect. I will be molding young minds in a room that isn't covered floor to ceiling in various representations of bees. This pleases me.

4. Coming home post-break up was the right decision. I've had such a good time seeing my friends and family; everyone has been so supportive and has reminded me time and time again (and maybe a few more times more) that this isn't the end of it all. As Heather would say: "Stephen wasn't your last chopper out of Nam." And then I awkwardly hug her for about 10 minutes out of equal parts love and jealousy that I'll never be as funny as she is. I've actually managed to be content/happy while I've been here because of all of the support I've gotten. There were definitely days spent crying whilst listening to awfully tragic lost love sorts of songs, but that's a given? right? RIGHT?!

5. On that note, I'm heading back to Dallas today. Last time around I was was 75% sad to be leaving, 25% happy to be going back to Stephen. The percentages have shifted slightly and now I'm in the 95% sad to be leaving, 4% mortified at the mere thought of it and subsequently blocking it from my mind, and 1% anxious to see if my classroom really was used for school store storage category. No one will be taking that candy from me.

6. No one ever described this Type of Person better than whoever it was who wrote this article: "Their scruffy, comfortable home, decorated with hippopotamus figurines and Escher prints, stocked with vintage-y clothes and rescued furniture, is a shrine to fading ideals of specialness. Their need to find and nurture a sense of uniqueness has led them into a state of quiet panic and paralysis — and also, perhaps, to the Etsy Web site, where you can purchase the handmade or handed-down accouterments of eccentric individuality." FADING IDEALS OF SPECIALNESS?! THEIR NEED TO FIND AND NURTURE A SENSE OF UNIQUENESS?!?! Poetry.

7. I'll see you on the other side in Dallas.

bless all of you

2011-07-21T00:37:00.000-06:00

. . . for continuing to talk to me and/or read this blog on a (semi/ir) regular basis.

I just reread some random posts from 2008. Remember that time when I said 2008 was apparently a "good" year for me? Well, turns it out it was actually the year I vomited all my emotional turmoil on every person in sight, and then turned to the interwebs to canvas the rest of humanity I couldn't possibly affect in person.

You're all saints. That's all I'm saying.

nailed it

2011-07-20T09:44:00.000-06:00

How is it that someecards never fails to get it right?

getting pretty steep

2011-07-18T11:15:00.006-06:00

I never really talked much about the poet on the blog. His name is Stephen, by the way. I guess there's something lingering in the back of my mind akin to a jinx: every time I seem to tweet, publish, loudly proclaim re: a boy, it hits the fan shortly thereafter. Probably, also, because it wasn't exactly the smoothest of romances.

Isn't it funny, though, how it barely even matters how smooth it all was once you've realized every gesture will be the last and you close the door on something for good? Today would've been our four-month anniversary, in fact.

More than anyone I've ever been with, being with the poet screamed "imminent marriage." It was just one of those feelings that cheesy people profess to have. I let a big part of me slip into the new reality of this being the person I was always going to be with and being grateful I no longer had to endure the soul-crushing post-breakup emotional fallout I'm all-too familiar with (and, I guess, so you are you since it's always played out in detail on here?).

Well . . . here we are, folks! Marriage = no. Miserable heartbreak fallout = yes. Winner = Sarah, and all of you.

I tried to tough it out in Dallas for about 30 seconds before I hopped in a car and drove to dear, dear, sweet Heather's house, where I could cry on both her and her mom's shoulders, bless their hearts. There's something to be said for not having to do all of this in an empty apartment in a city with nothing but reminders of your forgone relationship and no friends within weeks of returning from summer break. I only went back to Dallas because he was there, and after it all he was the only one there.

They did their due diligence and let me cry in all the wrong places and not wear make up for three days due to the futility of it all. Eventually, though, the only real place to cry is on your parents' bed while ingesting copious amounts of media, and I made my way back to Utah a couple nights ago. Last time I was here he was with me, so that's super awesome, but it's better than panic attacking alone in Dallas, I say.

So the poet and I tried talking on the phone every day for hours, crying to each other over our impossible relationship and mutual wish for a feasible alternative. As Heather said: "This is a breakup you could legitimately say was mutual; I don't think that's ever happened before." Agreed. And I can't decide if that's way worse or way better.

As usual, though, he's done nothing but do right by me. His number one concern has been that I'm not sad and all alone. We pretended, even, for a few days that we could be best friends and be one of those ex-couples who talked each other through all of it and ended up with each other as besties, too.

How cute.

That blew up that night before last when he said he hoped neither of us would use our communique as a means to fix what was wrong with our relationship and eventually get back together. Cue me feeling like Sarah from 2001 standing outside the SCERA theater begging a certain high school boyfriend to take me back after we'd also tried to stay "friends." Cue click and subsequent dial tone. Also, nausea. Also, feelings up pubescent shame and humiliation. All the good stuff, really.

So, needless to say that's not happening. But this is: (on loop)

la la la

2011-07-13T06:49:00.001-06:00

We broke up again. For real real this time.

How I know is that he said it himself. And when he makes a decision, that decision is made.

It's hard because he's a really great person, but (like many of you who read what I've written before have said) sometimes I didn't seem to like him enough. But he is wonderful. But not for me, unfortunately.

Boo.

idle hands

2011-07-10T17:26:00.000-06:00

Saturday wasn't exactly an A+ day for me. And the poet, bless his poor soul, got the shortest part of the shortest end of that stick.

After only four days in Dallas, I miss my family, am tired of doing nothing, tired of spending all day every day alone until the poet comes over, tired of having nothing to do and no motivation or discipline to come up with anything to do (e.g. school work, housework, general at all work).

Which, lovely enough, resulted in me crying in the middle of IKEA and telling the poet I'd meet him at the car. Which was especially awesome because we'd both been looking forward to going there all week (I'd forced him to put off his visit in order to wait for when I could go, too). Super rad. World's Best Girlfriend 2011.

And, then, proceeded to cry on my sofa and tell him all I wanted to do was quit my job, move back home and spend all day with my family. He ate that ish up, folks. The dude was salivating for more of that stuff.

And, THEN in between tears, I listed off everything I wanted to eat to make myself feel better. (I'm healthy on so many levels, it's disgusting.)

Panda Express
Corn Dogs
Peach Rings
Ice Cream Sandwiches

So the son of a gun went and bought them all.

And I ate Panda Express, ice cream bars and peach rings for dinner and cried because he was being just so incredibly nice to me.

While I fell in and out of sobbing-induced sleep, he cleaned the kitchen, read and book and waited until I crawled my sorry self into my bed before he went home. At one point he may have even said: "I'm sorry for hanging around so long." At which point I may have started crying a bit, again, and told him he could stay as long as he wanted.

Isn't he the luckiest sucker you've ever known?

It all very much reminded me of a song Emiley sent me a while back.

So, I'm thinking time to get my behind in gear and stop spending every day sitting around doing nothing. Seriously. No, seriously.

summer part II

2011-07-09T12:25:00.003-06:00

Back in Dallas and enjoying the summer sun and my complex's pool. Maybe a bad idea when it comes to skin cancer? I tell myself it's okay because I wear all kinds of sunscreen in the process.

The first half of the summer (note: you have no idea how much it pains me that the first half is already gone) I let myself do mainly wedding projects and sit around with the family. Now that I'm back, I'm feeling a real need to get my ish together (as previously mentioned) before school starts again.

Because if there's one thing I've been woefully ambiguous about on this blog it's been how my first year of teaching completely handed me my you know what. Right? I mean, I barely even mentioned it. (Except, I guess, when I mentioned it this time, this other time, that time, and probably a few dozen or so other instances.)

The thing is, since I've been back, my brain feels like it's covered in some viscous fog. When I saw the poet walk into the airport to pick me up, my brain had one of those maladjusted moments where I literally questioned if he was real (and not in a Nicholas Sparks kind of way, either).

I know I ought to be getting things done, but every day since I've been back is the exact same. Waking up late. Being hungry and not eating because I still haven't gone to the grocery store to get food. Sitting by the pool. Showering. Hanging out with the poet.

My house is hot because, did you know?, Texas is a furnace. My brain and hands are laboriously idle. I'd like to get in a car and just drive, you know? Bruce Springsteen style.

I feel like these aren't good signs.

on the road again

2011-07-05T09:37:00.000-06:00

This afternoon I head back to Dallas for the rest of the summer and onward.

My Dad left this morning for work, and I may or may not have cried. It's always better for me to be around family, but I guess I need to go back "home" and help kids or something? Is that what I'm doing?

Anyway, it will be good to see the poet and get back into a routine (hopefully a healthy one?) before the barrage of school begins again.

I'm thinking: 1) some sort of excercize routine to manage the overeating; 2) getting enough work done to avoid an overwhelming haze during the school year; 3) not eating out for every single meal; 4) pool time (w/ sunscreen so as to avoid the skin cancer scare of 2011 that I just experienced. a.k.a. the time I got sunburned so bad I just assumed melanoma would result. No actual medical doctors were consulted in this diagnosis.)

Beyond that, I think it's just a steady climb downhill until the school year starts. And even typing those words gives me a hint of nausea. Here's to hoping that subsides before I report back for duty.

As for the job: I still haven't heard no, so now I'm just 100% assuming yes? I'm going to lunch with the main office ladies when I return (they're the entire reason I went to school some [most] days), so hopefully I'll get the details then. Including, but not limited to: do I have a job? do I have an assigned grade level/content area? do I have a classroom? do I have a computer in said classroom? does said classroom have internet access? does said classroom have an infestation of pigeons/cockroaches/mites/bedbugs? etc. These are all essential questions. Seriously.

looking for an out

2011-06-25T19:55:00.002-06:00

In talking with the ladies today at Em's bridal shower (which I hosted and which largely turned out well enough for my taste) about idiot bloggers whose self-serving blogs we read anyway, it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to once again pick up this self-serving blog (for the sake of all of you, of course).

I used to blog a lot (2008 was a good year for me, it seems), but between school and school and then afterward school, my intellect has been devoid of anything humorous or particularly interesting to say. And, as we all know, you don't come here for anything if it's not humor and a peek inside my contorted world view.

So, here we are. But don't worry: this isn't going to be one of those, "I'm going to blog every day from here on out!" sort of things. I never like to set myself up for failure. I just figured I'd write something, you know, today.

But while we're on the theme of my contorted world view, let's also discuss how at today's bridal shower I picked the brains of the women there who also have boyfriends. (Just writing that part of the sentence "who also have boyfriends" makes me want to die. Just fyi.)

I'm always intrigued by how others' relationships pan out, the issues involved, what they like about the person, etc. Mainly because as soon as I'm in a relationship, the whole idea of them becomes this nebulous, ephemeral, philosophical notion I can't seem to get my grip on. Like, "Wait, what? You want to marry the dude? Him? Like, forever, forever? Whoa. Really? Are you sure?" That's usually about as articulate as it gets.

The best part about the conversation was when three of us there admitted we're constantly looking for an out in a relationship. I think this is the great paradox of relationship-ing. When you're in one, it's like: "Whoooaaa, eeeeeaaaasssyyyy with the commitment, and the feelings and all your vulnerability and shit. I need you to go back to the part where you sometimes acted like you weren't sure you liked me." And you look like this:

When you aren't in one, the girls you see who have boyfriends are unknowingly lucky, their boyfriends say all the right things and have a robust 401k. And you feel like this:

Or maybe there's a middle ground in there somewhere? I wouldn't know it if there were.

In any case, both seem super lame.

The thing is, some of these dudes are so hell-bent on liking you that all the chances you give them to be a total douche and, therefore, make it absolutely necessary for you to leave, are completely wasted and, in turn, become even more of an example why this dude is way nicer/cooler/patient/forgiving than you. And then you do something like this:

And the universe wins. Yet again.

may 12 - present update

2011-06-21T12:19:00.002-06:00

Not in any particular order, except the order that comes to mind first.

1. As mentioned per twitter, the poet and I broke up.

2. As not mentioned per twitter, the poet and I got back together the next day.

3. Per items #1-2, I am a chump and an emotionally challenged individual.

4. I thought item #3 was going to be an update, but then I realized there wasn't anything new about it.

5. I'm in Utah for a month, hanging out with the family and enjoying the unseasonably cool weather. Dallas was 104 degrees the other day, so I'm feeling really good about my decision to be here instead of there. Although I hear that July will be much worse, which is precisely when I'll roll back into town.

6. Danielle and Michael got married a few days after I got into town. I got to help put everything together for their reception, and everything turned out wonderfully I think. It was the first wedding I've ever really done anything for, and I appreciated being a part of it.

7. Emiley is getting married next Saturday, so I'm throwing her a bridal shower this Saturday. I haven't been this excited about a project in quite some time, I must say.

8. All these people getting married have made me feel like everyone gets married all the time and not being married is the weird thing to do. I expect my group of friends is behind the times in this regard and, therefore, I'm behind them as well.

9. I went over to Kristine and Jordan's last night. They just had a baby boy named Owen, and it was all I could do but alternately stare at Kristine and then the kid and say: You have a child. My amazement is threefold: 1) People get married. 2) People get married and have children. 3) People get married and have children and those children are human beings of their own accord. Mind. blowing.

10. The poet left yesterday after coming to visit me for a few days. We were together a total of four-ish days, and I didn't want to punch him once for being annoying. Not sure anyone else in history has lasted that long with me.

11. The poet knows about the blog now, so at some point I'm going to have to let him read it. I'm not excited about this. Even B-o-b never knew about the blog, and I had zero qualms about that.

12. Brooke and I talked on the phone the other day for the first time since she's been home from her mission. We discussed our wish to go back to the good 'ol days of college when she, Emiley and I lived together and needed nothing more in the whole world. We felt mutual disappointment that it wasn't possible.

13. I still don't know if I have a job next fall. However, no one has told me that I don't, so maybe that's a good sign? (It's pretty awesome when your financial future relies on the two previous sentences.)

14. Everyone who has seen me since I've been here has commented on the fact that I'm not really chubby like I've continuously said I am here on the blog. To that I say: I don't know how accurate that is.

15. Michelle and I are making the rounds at the Lord of the Rings extended versions they're showing again in theaters. Tonight will feature 3 hours and 55 minutes of The Two Towers, which previously was my favorite, but which I might loathe after that long in a movie theater. Toss up.

16. Being in Utah for a whole month means I get to see my favorite people like Tara, Ashley, Lani, M.C., Krystal, Kristine, etc. etc. and I couldn't be happier about it.

multiple thoughts

2011-05-11T17:36:00.000-06:00

Oh, hey.

I'll update you because I know you're just dying to know the latest in my life. (It would secretly be totally okay with me if you were.)

1. School. Continuously being surprised at the bad parts of me teaching has brought out. Didn't want to know I was so good at being bitchy. Wanted to keep pretending I'm only nice. Only a few more weeks. Everything is crossed that I'll make it. You know, for luck, or something like that.

2. Gratuitous commentary. Watched The Social Network tonight, and if Jesse Eisenberg got it anywhere near Mark Zuckerberg's real self, then that dude (Mark) deserves a serious junk punch. Talk about a walking douche bag, right?

3. Musical selection. Emiley so very graciously gifted me a copy of Brandi Carlile's latest CD. Naturally, I've been listening to it on loop because I don't know how else music is listened to. "Forever Young" has been on repeat, in particular. "It's hard getting older without a cause." Sing it, Brandi.

4. Relationship nausea. Poet and I are back together. Dating. He's my "boyfriend." Rolling of eyes. Making a face to take away the seriousness of it. Being swallowed up in the question: am I capable of really liking a dude long-term? Never clearly coming to an answer. Finding no answers in my relationship history.

5. Weight gain. It's making a big comeback. Big.

6. Summer plans. I have none. Anxiety resulting.

7. Overeating. Particularly anything dessert-ish and cakey/exceptionally sugary.

8. Sleep. Not enough of it happening. Refer to item #4.

9. Roots. Hair needing to be died and ends cut off. Desperately.

That's about it. I'm never very good at saying what's to be said when it really comes down to it.

happy birthday, emmy

2011-04-26T06:49:00.001-06:00

About three or so years ago, a blonde chick from Colorado told me one day that she was packing up her things and moving to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for the summer. Alone. Just because she wanted to and she needed some space to breathe.

I can remember distinctly thinking: who are you, and how do I get like that?

Every boyfriend, friend or probably even acquaintance I've had for the last few years has heard nothing but endless stories about Emiley. She likes this, she hates that, she told me this one time and I've never forgotten it, and she changed my life forever. That last part is the part I say most often.

And who's the big baby that's already tearing up? Moi.

If there was one person who showed up and blew my mind with everything she was/is/was and is committed to being, it's Em. She showed me someone existed who wasn't afraid to love people, who noticed every detail, who made others feel special as a duty and a privilege, who wasn't too cool for nostalgia, who was in charge of themselves and an actor not a reactor in their own lives. She gave me the gift of having someone who knew me, and who would let me know and love them back. She taught me never to compromise who I was for anyone or anything else.

And this list is sounding oddly narcissistic, because what? doesn't she have any value beyond her mere utility for my sake?

There are a million things that make her valuable. The way she can't sleep at night if she doesn't rest assured knowing she's given her work her all. How she always feels obligated to be there for people when I'm the one in the background saying, "Absolutely not." to the latest request. And, oddly, the way it's so easy for her to spend so much of her time taking care of other people, that she rarely makes time to take care of herself.

Am I creepily in love with her? Sounds like it.

She went to Smith's with me and stalked lying peddlers in the parking lot. When Bob and I broke up she came over and sat with me while I sobbed from the very depths of my insides. She let me sew her dresses and tablecloths, and she made my birthday cakes and cupcakes in my favorite flavor. She writes beautiful letters and newspaper articles and she never gives up even when all of what she has is spent. She showed up, every day, even when I was difficult and judgy and inconsolable. And that's because that's who she is.

And I love her for it. Her being born was one of my life's greatest gifts.

She changed my life forever.

I love you, Emiley.

my current list of reasons not to quit my job

2011-04-19T21:29:00.000-06:00

Get it? See what I did there?

And two posts in one day?! It's like Christmas, or something way worse!

9:45 a.m.

2011-04-19T08:46:00.002-06:00

. . . and it's already one of those days.

Listen folks, with regular updating comes a barrage of my negativity. It's a win-win, or a lose-lose, or a win-lose. Who even knows.

excessive force

2011-04-18T22:16:00.002-06:00

There are five weeks and four days until the end of the school year. Which, by the way, reminds me: don't you hate it when someone says "But whose counting?" all ironically, when you're obviously counting? It's not ironic, people. It's just stupid. (And lame.)

My grade/content area doesn't have an end-of-year, high-stakes test attached to it, but my students do have to take a reading test, so this week I'm a reading teacher to help prepare them for it.

Which is awesome, until one of them thinks the word "anticipation" means "participating" in something, and then your head ends up somewhere between your knees, and a paper bag and heavy breathing is involved out of fearforthefutureofthiscountryandallhumanity.

Luckily, you recover cover quickly 1) because you and paper bags and hyperventilating have a long and very emotionally honest relationship, 2) you remember that the teacher whose room you teach in recently refilled her candy jar. Priorities.

In other news, the poet and I have been conversing sporadically as of late. I still think he's just 100% top notch, I'm not going to lie to you. At church yesterday he told me he's been miserable post break-up, to which I was like: Dude, duh. I think maybe he's used to being the one who walks away (in fact, I know he is), but this time I was the one calling time of death.

In any case, survival is my no. 1 priority at this point. Luckily, I have friends like Susannah, who post random links to sites like That Can Be My Next Tweet that use my previous tweets to predict what profound 140-character pontification I'll come up with next:

Laying on the school year. Can't decide if it too late to get desperate.

I might be settling, baby, but watch a sinus infection. Awesome. Seriously. We're super efficient.

Don't worry. Taking a three-hour nap. Best day is now feeling chubby let's just never understand it.

Chest congestion = highlight of me. How bad could being nuts and horrible. (true on levels I can't even begin to address without the guidance of a licensed professional)

I'd like to get to shave in the school year. Can't decide if fedex doesn't mean you're a 4-month-old!

Teacher crush is over. And couldn't go somewhere new. I'm getting ahead of heartbreak. Awesome. (I am heartbreak at this point. I'm good at it.)

Absolutely beautiful day is taunting me. I ate it up. Too descriptive? Three days in Oak Cliff.

Computer algorithms are way more insightful into my life than I'll ever be. (Alert: that's not news.)

god only knows what we're fighting for

2011-04-09T23:55:00.000-06:00

I had a friend in college who once told me that when she really felt like she was losing it, she touched everything around her. Focused in on the reality of the handrail or the stucco wall. The feeling from her palm to her brain, just to hold on to that moment and focus in on what wasn't crumbling around her.

Maybe I romanticized that a little bit. But she did touch stuff so she wouldn't break down.

When I think of this, it reminds me of a scene from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, when one of Joel's memories is being erased and the lights turn off behind him and everything disappears the farther he walks away from it. I guess you'd really have to see it to know what I'm talking about.

I've had my fair share of heartbreak, and I've chronicled it all for your here, I'm sure. This heartbreak isn't beans compared to B-o-b, or even Steve from last year, but I'm still fighting it.

I think that's partially because my emotional/mental/physical tank is hovering somewhere near running solely on fumes. I think that's also partially because, when I talked to the poet, my brain raced with excitement and I stumbled over my words like a twit—just out of sheer earnest to tell him the next thing. Part of that could also be because he said one night, "You're the only one worth bothering for."

I'm clawing my way through the last 8 weeks of school; every day is a marathon of endurance at this point, and my seventh period class has said (more than once) "You're always sulking these days" and "Why are you crying? We heard you were crying." Basically, I'm just straight-up super classy and generally doing an awful job of hiding it from anyone (everyone).

Everyone else in TFA, it seems, has these gloriously ambitious plans for the summer, while I'm making plans for what's going to happen after 3:33 p.m. to keep me from being stuck with nothing to hold on to to bring me back.

La, la, la, right? I can't predict anything beyond 10 seconds from now. If life over the last year has taught me anything, I suppose you could say it's that.

a record, even for me

2011-04-06T06:56:00.002-06:00

I've had approximately two DTRs in the last month.

And one fake, and as of last night, one real break up (with the poet).

There comes a point, folks, when even I can't hack it. Consider that point reached, and we'll all breathe a sigh of relief if I ever let a boy near me ever again.

Just fyi.

the time i nearly quit my job (and the poet)

2011-03-23T19:40:00.001-06:00

Yesterday things didn't go so well at school.

By 10:00 a.m. I was sitting in my assistant principal's office hyperventilating (super classy, obviously) and repeating on loop: "I can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore."

He was taken aback.

Things have been piling up a bit lately. Namely: paperwork, grading, tutoring, book club, pen pal club, academic competitions, school committees, alternative certification requirements, meetings, waiting in line for the one copier teachers are allowed to use (out of three, and while the others sit unused), etc. You know, not to mention, feeling like I might just be the world's worst teacher and seeing, in detail, all of my inadequacies. (That may have been 95% of it, actually.)

Luckily, I had a much-needed (and much taken-advantage-of) Spring Break last week. I'm fairly certain every cell in my body was so down with what was happening during that week (read: nothing). It gave me ample time to sleep it all off, and sleep it off I most certainly did.

However, lots of time to de-stress = realizing just how much stress I was carrying around all day every day. And the closer Monday got, the more I felt the trickle of returning stress turn to a steady flow and then an endless stream. After half a day on Monday, it was like the break never happened at all.

Then, a repeat (x4) run-in yesterday morning with the world's "best" 7th grader at my school, me in the assistant principal's office with him and a cop, and then welcome in the hyperventilating.

The assistant principal told me to go home, and I protested for about .3 milliseconds, until I was like, "Yeah, you're right. I hate this place." I threatened my students with death if they embarrassed me in front of the substitute, got in the car, called my dad, and sobbed all the way home.

I've never really considering quitting before. But, wow, at that moment was I ready to grab my things and say a whole string of swear words on the way out the door. A certain finger may also have been flying loose.

Most of me still wants to do at least half of that.

And then this poet (wants to be a poet, maybe, but isn't really sure) from my ward (who I'd been emailing during the day) came over and talked to me on my porch for four hours and made me feel better, and when I came inside to check my phone, I found an email from a principal in Somewhere, Texas. I said: "This is interesting. I just got an email from a principal . . . wait, what? is this from you?"

Hold. the. phone.

The poet emailed a former teacher of his and asked her to email me some words of advice. I had no words. In fact, I think I said, ironically: "I have no words." He shrugged and said, "You're welcome." And that was that. (Except I maybe might have said later on, "Can I hug you?" And he obliged.)

That made things better. I won't even lie to you.

my night

2011-03-14T22:40:00.000-06:00

Some combination of these three things:

Why say it myself if three vague someecards can say it better?

random and no transitions

2011-03-05T16:58:00.000-07:00

Currently going on day four of no voice. And, really, by no voice I mean, some sort of alternately squeaky and tenor/bassish voice I'm sporting. My kids are finding no end to the hilarity of sounds that this produces. However, I'm crossing my fingers that I won't have to go to the doctor for a steroid injection to speed things along. I've heard of 3 other teachers at school who had to.

Also, we're coming up here on only about 11 weeks left of school. Everyone says (repeatedly. ad nauseam.) that your first year of teaching is hellacious. You won't find many major disagreements on that one from me.

It's an odd sense of growing up and growing wider and older and more jaded and less hopeful, all while hoping more than you ever have, and caring more than you ever thought you could or willingly would. My students mean the absolute world to me, even when they're my greatest source of disillusionment.

There've been about 1.2 million points in the last year when I've looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. That could be the weight gain everyone loves to point out to me, but I'd like to think it's more existentialist in nature. Sometimes I'm like, "Who the hell is this person?"

If teaching middle school has done anything for me, it's made me so much more forgiving of myself. Anyone who was there could probably attest: I had my fair share of crazy during those years (all the way up into high school+, really). But watching all my students' crazy has taught me: everyone (most everyone) was just as crazy as me, but at that age we were all so narcissistic to even notice anyone else existed, except in relation to ourselves.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that was a weight off.

In other news, there's not much of an update on the job situation. TFA met with us and told us they'd move heaven and earth to keep us teaching in Dallas. I didn't know if I ought to be happy or disappointed about that; I'll admit the idea of getting out of Dodge appealed to me.

In any case, I hope to stay in a classroom. Otherwise I wouldn't have a video of my students' 5-minute-dance-party-reward-for-doing-so-well-on-your-test! to show you

(Be a pal and ignore my ridiculous laughter in the background. Also, please witness the monstrosity that is that classroom. Not my doing. Also, it's sideways, and I don't know what to do about it. So, there you go.):

(Note: you can't see the boys because they wouldn't DREAM of listening to Justin Bieber. I think they were all laying on the ground faking dead at that point. No lie.)

I absolutely love them.

things people have said to me as of late that i wish they hadn't

2011-02-22T11:05:00.000-07:00

"No offense, Miss, but you need to lose weight in your thighs. They're really, really, big."

"My best guess is that you have a 30% chance of coming back here next year, so do what's best for you."

"It's just that your waist is disproportionate to your thighs."

"She sent a picture of herself in booty shorts to all the guys." (one of my students telling me about another student)

"It was really nice working with you this year, Ms. C. Keep in touch with me wherever you end up."

"You're like the snacking queen, aren't you? You're always snacking away in our meetings."

speed bump

2011-02-17T18:42:00.003-07:00

Today my students sent around a "petition" to keep me from losing my job at the end of the year. This morning my principal let me know there's a much-less-than-likely chance that I'll have a job there next year. (Along with approximately 3,099 other teachers of the 10,500 my district employs.)

Sadly, I wish their lovely sixth-grader petition could cover that base, but I don't think it will.

So far, TFA has been surprisingly mum on the issue. We'll see if they have any back-up plans for me. If not, looks like this one will be headed out of Texas in a few months and back on the what-on-earth-am-I-doing-with-my-life train.

Luck and well wishes, and all of that.

exhaustion + fear of job loss + apathy =

2011-01-31T19:18:00.002-07:00

no blog posts.

Sorry.

legitimate pain

2011-01-27T20:20:00.007-07:00

This hurts my heart.

WHY aren't I living in New York and lining up at an exceptionally and somewhat creepy hour to apply for this (or any) job at Purl Soho?!

OH yes, because I am busy "teaching" 106 youths.

Truth is, a very large part of me wants to be working there instead. Who could resist all the yarns! in all those colors! and the gorgeous blue painted on the door?!?! *Officially geeked out over a knitting store.

But I couldn't stand to be away from my (sixth-grade) loves. And that's the truth of it.

Word on the street, though, is that the DISD $260 million budget cut might have a say in whether I'm actually allowed to stay with them at all. As some veteran teachers told me so sensitively in the teacher's lounge today, "last to be hired, first to be fired."

Do you think they'll hold the job for me in NY? Someone get the word out that that might need to happen. Danke.

small update

2011-01-11T13:09:00.000-07:00

1. Am in bed sick-ish. More of the I'm-trying-to-fend-it-off, variety.

2. A boy I've had my eye on from church asked me out. Am actually excited about it. Please pray he isn't dull/boring/overwhelmingly Republican.

3. Sixth period is up 10% in the passing rate for their last term's test. And five who failed only failed by one question. Things are moving up.

4. Loving my new Kindle to bits. (and the book I'm currently reading on it, too)

5. Dreaming of where I'll go for Spring Break this year. Hopefully somewhere warm, as Dallas has reared it's ugly, 28-degree head. Brr.

wa wa wa waaaaaa*

2011-01-02T18:39:00.002-07:00

*You can imagine that sound, right?

Hey, folks. We're coming to you live from going on 20-ish hours of me sitting on my couch watching television. By all accounts, it's a good start to 2011.

I usually create resolution-ish things right around the time some dude breaks up with me, so it's a breath of fresh air, really, to be thinking about bettering myself as a general rule, rather than in response to something.

The new year is one of those natural times to figure out all the things you'd like to do differently. The list of things I'd like to do differently runs the gamut of, well, everything, so where does one start with a resolution-ish thing on that front?

Part of that involves the token looking back on the year, compartmentalizing everything and putting it in a tiny box labeled "Gross generalization." I'm naturally prone to reject this. And this is the part where I could be really impressive and snotty and reference a particular part from Jean Paul Sartre's existentialist treatise Nausea about our innate inability to correctly reconstruct our past, but this is the part (more fortunately for you, I'm assured) that I'll refrain. Aren't I just so smug and smart?

To (also) refrain from overwhelming myself by resolving to change everything, I'm going to start with the first area: physical health. Some of you will remember that I ran (read: quickly walked) a half marathon early last year. Some of you will also remember the resulting weight gain when I used that accomplishment as an excuse to NEVER MOVE A MUSCLE AGAIN. EVER.

Except I didn't really, I just adopted 106 eleven to twelve year olds and they sucked the life right out of me.

So instead of coming home and sitting on the couch for hours before going to bed, waking up, going back to school, etc., I'm going to try and haul myself to the gym for some kind of physical effort . . . and then go to sleep, wake up, and go back to school.

First things first.

christmas coma

2010-12-27T16:25:00.000-07:00

Hello, everyone.

Christmas has come and gone, and I've done very little in the interim. No, really. More along the lines of nothing. So, less than very little and a lot more like none at all. Do you see what I'm saying?

I'm alternately soaking up every second of freedom from this break and getting anxious to get back to doing something with myself every day (besides spending money, of course).

I have been rereading The Pursuit of Perfect, however, and I think it will go a long way in helping me deal with the emotional strain of school more positively.

It's not easy to remain a perfectionist (even though I don't like calling myself that, because it seems I'd actually have accomplished more if I were a true perfectionist) (wait . . . did I prove that I am one just then?) when you're depending on 106 students to pull through for you.

Next year, I've decided, I'm also going to try and be more grateful and focus on the positive instead of the negative all the time. Wish me luck.

If I don't see you before then, Happy New Year!

happy anniversary

2010-12-17T23:14:00.001-07:00

At dinner tonight with a teacher from my school, I was remembering a conversation B-o-b and I had once about what it means to matter as a person, and how one's mattering fits in with the rank and file.

As I recalled the memory, in effort to retell said conversation, I realized: That conversation happened exactly one year ago tonight, and that night was the last time Bob broke up with me.

And then I was like: Whhhhhhoooooaaaaaa.

My friend tried to subtly move the conversation forward, to which I promptly replied: We can't move on. And then I was like: Whhooooooaaaa. That's craaaaaaazy.

The coincidence of it, yes, was crazy, but so was the fact that one year ago all that was happening, and my life felt, well, over, for the time being, and now I'm, well, here. And about two hours ago one of my students sent me a text message saying she's going to miss me over Christmas break.

Some things change.

(And happy birthday, Daddy. You are my cherished one. Forever and for always.)

apples, and falling from the tree

2010-12-14T20:45:00.004-07:00

Today I had a rather unfortunate interaction with a parent of a student at my school. This interaction was, as always, preceded by an even more unfortunate interaction with this parent's child.

Now, let me get this out there: my students? They don't mess with me. They've been well educated and are wise to the fact that messing with me equals things that will certainly be unpleasant for them.

Other students have the unfortunate circumstance of not being educated fully on this matter. And said student was not one who had received the memo, shall we say. But regardless, the same rule applies: do not mess with me.

The interaction with said parent was just as "pleasant" as it was with the student, and, in despondence, I wanted to say: I cannot teach your child not to be an asshole if you are one.

Insert token analogy: you are the tree; your child is the apple. That apple hasn't even seemed to fall yet.

At the choir concert later on, I then learned why it is impossible to get a child to sit still or not talk or not look at their cell phones when other people are talking: their parents won't do it either.

Heaven help me when I'm trying to teach them not to say ain't and to be civilized humans, too.

if all stays the same

2010-12-13T20:28:00.000-07:00

. . . this will be the Christmas gift I give this year:

I'm too busy digesting the number of my students who are failing. (and watching a lot of Netflix and generally avoiding my life)

heartbreak city

2010-12-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

One of my best and sweetest students just left the library after I helped him with his homework that's due today.

He looked a little downtrodden, like he was going to get in trouble just for asking me for help. When I asked him what was wrong he informed me that today is his birthday, and his mother (who he doesn't live with because he doesn't like his step dad) promised him she'd pick him up to take him out for his birthday.

And she didn't show up.

And I may or may not have had to pretend I was looking at something else to keep him from seeing the swelling tears.

I can't even express how painful that is for me to hear.

And this is why I'm sometimes a tad bit negative.

ups

2010-12-07T20:56:00.000-07:00

I've been accused, by some, of being overly negative. Those assholes. (get it?)

Admittedly, I can be exceptionally negative, so there's that. And in a heartfelt understanding of that fact, and also in understanding that most everyone gets enough negativity out of everyday life . . . I'll try (for a minute) to be more positive.

Positive things of late:

1. Two of my students wrote hand-written cards inviting me to their orchestra and piano concert tonight. My little babies looked so wonderful and cute up there on the stage that, yes, I teared up about it. I'm going to be that mom.

2. I put in all that data from my student's last six weeks test, and it wasn't as bad as I had originally thought (hence, me having put it off for 4 weeks).

3. I finished my first Christmas project/gift. (remaining positive by not pointing out that I still have many more to finish, with Christmas only being 3 weeks away)

4. I love my bed. It's the best bed in the whole wide world.

5. I regularly have 2-4 students in my classroom during lunch every day, just because they apparently like to hang out with me. They even ask me if there is anything they can do to help me. We mostly just talk about knitting. (Truth.)

6. Valerie and I are setting up a pen pal program with her students in Burkina Faso and my students here. I already told one class about it and they were all ridiculously excited.

7. The book club I started at school (we call it Bookworm's Book Club) usually has between 20-25 kids in attendance. The other teachers at school say this is a big deal. Just getting to hang out with the kids is really rad.

8. I came up with some seriously awesome prizes for the book contest I'm having for my students (long story short: they're spending the whole course of the year writing a book on any topic of their choosing. I'm going to pick the top book from each class (5 total), and then a panel of judges is going to choose the top three winners). The first-place prize is going to be Kindle with a gift certificate for books! Don't worry: I'll soon be plugging my grant on Donors Choose for you to generously donate to the cause. You're welcome.

9. I get to go home in a week and a half for Christmas. Two weeks of nothing and planning, and hopefully some skiing if I can manage it. I'll definitely be calling Tom!

10. I'm in the process of trying to finagle my way into this amazing store for an internship next summer. If it happens, the heavens will open and the angels will sing. If not, I'll probably just laze all summer. Win-win.

fear monger

2010-11-30T21:31:00.003-07:00

A couple nights ago, I couldn't sleep. I'd been crying in a state of panic—not sobby, weepy tears, but (because we're going for some good description, here) more out-of-breath, can't-breathe tears.

Basically I've succumbed to the Mormon stereotype of living in fear of dying alone. Wah wah wah, whatever. Let's not even address it, because I can't.

At that point I got to thinking about just how many things I'm afraid of. I already couldn't sleep, so I started making a mental list, separating the fears into three categories: worry, fear, and terror.

The list was long.*

*and then she realizes she's an everythingphobic.

Here I am, I'm lying in bed, already upset and afraid and BAM! the cosmic universe screeches, "That's because you're afraid of EVERYTHING!"*

*and then the stomach pit swells and there we are in fear of being . . . in fear.

The list(s) consist(s) of these:

Worry

what it means that I rarely manage to keep my room clean
paying bills on time
paying too much for things
owing people money
being left behind
spider veins, yellow teeth, premature balding, etc.
using too many minutes and having to pay the ridiculous 5 cent-a-minute ridiculousness
characteristically male facial hair (mustache/unibrow/etc.)

Standard Fear

paying a bill late
a bad credit score
never living abroad and regretting it
being irresponsible with money
any sort of car repair (and the $ that goes along with it)
calling people on the phone and asking for things (a.k.a. looking vulnerable)
never talking to boys, which will then lead to me never marrying one
never finding a boy I could be convinced is worth talking to
being yelled at by someone in charge of me/someone I respect
getting chubby and/or fat
that I have no self-discipline
job hunting (ever.)
buying a dog, and then that dog peeing on my bed while I'm asleep (or ever)
never going on a vacation that's an actual vacation
being poor
having children who won't listen to me and then having to watch them screw up their lives
taking big chances/never taking big chances
realizing I've exaggerated and overestimated my own abilities
never being famous (no idea what that is about)
never going to space, or being an astronaut, or doing anything at NASA other than paying the $20 to look at the behind-glass exhibits
never reading all the books I want to read
becoming dumb
face fat

Borderline Terror

dying alone
being alone
marrying the wrong person
never having children
that all the successes I've had in life are flukes, frauds, fallacies, etc.
going bankrupt
being mediocre
never doing anything awesome
being trapped
my teeth falling out (no. lie.)
my parents dying
succeeding and/or failing
failing at anything, ever, at any time
that my lack of self-discipline will lead to me never doing anything substantial
having to go back to high school because someone decided I never should've graduated (actual nightmares about this have occurred)
feeling second-rate
my (future, hypothetical) child/children dying
my entirely illogical belief that wanting something desperately cosmically means you'll never get it
being someone who spends her entire life living in fear

So, there are more to add, I'm sure, but that's probably not necessary. You probably get the point. And my heart is pounding just even considering these things.

And the gravity and length of that list is shocking even to me.

I don't want to live in fear, and best I can figure, being afraid of things that don't happen is wasted fear, being afraid of things that do happen is dragged-out fear, being afraid of things so that they DO happen is masochism, being afraid of things so that they DON'T happen is an uneducated waste.

I can't manage that.

So, I'll probably check out some kind of book about it. We'll see how that goes.

memory lane

2010-11-26T13:19:00.002-07:00

Last Thanksgiving I was recovering from the first Bob breakup and nursing my wounds at home with my family. I suspect that that breakup was and always will be my crowning moment of heartbreak.

I've always been one to be crushed by such things, and I was crushed by the disappointment and sense of loss, and the realization that a big part of me felt relief. (and this is one of those times you cross your fingers and pray he hasn't somehow managed to find this blog)

But within a week I was good as new, better than new even, and making the kind of plans the relationship had me absolutely terrified I'd never get to make. I was feeling freedom and possibility and a renewed commitment to my own self-actualization. Then he called and we got back together, and then broke up again, that time right before Christmas. (Emiley says he ruined the holidays. Rightly so.)

That break up wasn't my crowning moment of heartbreak. That break up was crushing, and infuriating, and demeaning—I felt robbed of the pride in myself I'd earned the first time around. I was angry, and I kind of even hated him a little bit.

But then I applied for TFA, moved to Texas, and then stopped thinking about him one bit, except for the occasional reminder.

And then I came back to Utah for Thanksgiving and it was like "Helllooooooo, BOB!" And I've been randomly missing him, reminiscing, reliving, etc. I even looked at our picture again. This is because I've had a lot of downtime. This is because this time last year, that was all I had going on.

Happy to say that life is different now, and I have a lot more than that going on. And even though I've missed him, I don't want him to call and don't want to go down that road again. But I still do miss him a teeny bit, and maybe a little (maybe a lot) hope he's a little bit missing me, too.

let's talk about me doing nothing

2010-11-23T17:55:00.001-07:00

There are a few items of business to discuss:

1. Sue came over on Sunday night. She really is something (in a good way). And she was genuinely excited to see me. Which isn't surprising, but it's awesome for someone to be excited to see you. Seriously. I'm a sucker.

2. I saw Lani/Ashley/Leslie last night. Glor-i-ous. I owned up to stalking Leslie creepily via her blog, and then Lou and I talked about her future plans. People have future plans outside of lesson planning. Did you know that?

3. Tara and I are going to the BYU basketball game tonight. I'm exceptionally excited to see Tara (note: she may even be creeped out by it). Kristine and Jordan will be there, too, and I'm excited for that as well. I'm just excited!

4. J. Crew is selling itself for $3 billion. I'm in the market.

5. I've been doing nothing since I arrived here Saturday night. It's equal parts awesome and slightly gross. Not taking steps to ameliorate it.

going home

2010-11-20T10:09:00.000-07:00

I'm headed out today. The flight's at 5:15.

Adrien and I are going to go to lunch, and we're probably going to talk about how ridiculously good Harry Potter was the night before last (we went to the midnight showing! we're such rebels!) And then she's dropping me off.

I'm excessively excited to go home. And excessively excited to see my friends, my family, and my most precious Lauren.

Odds are 10 to 1 that I never come back. Be warned.

cheer up charlie

2010-11-15T20:49:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, one of my instructional coaches caught me in a "fun" moment after school. I had just finished grading my students' end-of-unit tests, and with a student staying after school to finish his work (that he should've done approximately 10 YEARS AGO), I couldn't quite let it out, if you know what I mean.

I think my words were: I can't have a productive conversation about this with you right now. I mean . . . if that's okay.

She kicked the student out into the hall, shut the door and said: Pretending like you aren't upset isn't going to solve anything.

At which point I sobbed to her for approximately 30 minutes.

I told her about all the things that have been overwhelming me in the last 12 weeks (read: everything) and at one point may have said, "You probably don't want to know this much about me," and then proceeded to keep telling her that much about me. I mean, there was someone sitting there, willing to talk to me, and unfazed by my ugly cry. I wasn't going to turn that down.

The best part about our conversation was what she said after the snot was all cleared away: "So what are you going to do about it?" Uhh . . . I hadn't actually thought that far? was mostly concentrating on the complaining aspect? am generally too exhausted after that to do much of anything?

And, of course, she was right, and, of course, there was something that ought to be done about all of it.

So I am doing things about it, mainly I'm planning my lessons before first period, and I'm trying to let it go that my sixth period had a 48% passing rate on their last test. Yes . . . I am . . . ig . . . norrriinnngg . . . that. Attempting to ignore that.

I only have to make it until Friday.

public service announcement(s)

2010-11-10T18:02:00.002-07:00

Announcement 1: Target is now selling their famous (infamous?) sweat pants and tops. I only own three pairs. Go to hell, judgers.

Announcement 2: I have located my North Face fleece after a cold summer without it.

Announcement 3: I just turned down my blue Target sweat pants for the grey ones, because (and this was my actual thought process), "Grey matches better with the black of my North Face fleece."

Send help.

(Not really. A lady should always match.)

THIS JUST IN: I am in my North Face, sweat pants, hair in bun, eating fruit snacks, Pringles, and Toy Story macaroni and cheese, about to watch a movie while I knit.

Can't decide if I'm 8 or 80.

a.k.a. things are getting serious

2010-11-08T21:31:00.006-07:00

Things start getting serious when every phone call I make to/get from my father involves me crying. Giant, droppy tears, handkerchief-inducing style.

Things start getting serious when I cry in the grocery store/car/pet store/bathroom/etc.

Things move into moderately serious when I can't even talk to one of my students about her father leaving her when she was young without crying.

Things hover at moderately serious when I secretly weep about my students fathers leaving them when they were young.

Things still hover at moderately serous when, as soon as my last student I held after school for homework detention left on Friday, I burst into heaving sobs in the middle of the school cafeteria.

Things inch toward very serious when I have to step outside of my seventh period class for a moment to cry, and then get it together before I go back in.

Things readily become apparently serious when I can't watch "Ghost Hunters" anymore (one of my past joys) because I can't hear about anyone's sadness anymore. I can't take any more sadness.

Things become shockingly serious when I realize there's no one to talk to, nowhere to go, and even my best friends don't know anything about my life anymore because I'm keeping most of it from them. There's no one to go to anymore.

So I watch this, instead.

"I know that you were thinking about leaving, just take me, too."

Marry me, Joe.

small update

2010-11-07T21:25:00.000-07:00

The byproduct of last week was the first time I ever seriously considered quitting my job.

The only, and can I stress very heavily that word only?, thing getting me through is knowing I get to go home in two weeks.

That and a staggering amount of sleeping that's getting pret-ty serious.

chubby

2010-11-01T22:03:00.002-06:00

It's November, everyone, and I'm chubby.

But let me back up.

This weekend David came up from Austin to take me to the UT Arlington planetarium, seeing as I love space, and he knows it/has heard about it ad nauseum for going on two years now. We met a physics Ph.D. student who immediately (and not surprisingly, I mean come on) blew my mind with his knowledge of space. And then we sat down to watch a 3-D roller coaster space film thing.

We left approximately 7 minutes later. There may have been some dry heaving.

While waiting for the film, I thought it would be a good time to stand on the scale they have to show your respective weight on earth, the moon, mars, etc.

You should know: I hadn't stepped on a scale in 6+ months, in an attempt to steal a page from the playbook of people who don't look at their bank accounts when they know they're low, and those of us who don't read/watch/listen to the news—there's some things you just don't want to know. (It won't do anyone any good.)

But I was tired and weak and was presented with an opportunity to know beforehand how much I'll weigh when I'm on the moon FOR PETE'S SAKE! so sue me, I got on the damn thing. Ouch. I found I weigh approximately 1 pound less than my record heaviest—a time when I was taking three spin classes a week and doing 30-mile rides on the weekends.

David heard of nothing else for the rest of the night. Poor fellow.

As a result, I've come up with several options to counteract this problem. They are as follows:

A. Stop eating as much
Pros: The financial benefits could be significant.
Cons: I have very few pleasures left in life.

B. Start eating healthy foods
Pros: Science says it will keep you from dying young.
Cons: I'm averaging two meals of crappy food a day as it is. The odds of substituting those meals for healthy meals equals "unlikely" rounded to the nearest "it's-never-going-to-happen" power. Also, not that concerned about dying young.

C. Start moving my body more
Pros: Something about metabolism?
Cons: You'd be lucky to scrape me off the couch at the end of the day without suffering some significant damage to your shins.

D. Some combination of options B and D
Pros: "Experts" say this is the most reliable route to weight loss/maintenance.
Cons: I'm already saving the world here, people, I can't do EVERYTHING.

E. Purchase larger, baggier clothes to avoid acknowledgment of said weight gain
Pros: I already own three pairs of Target sweat pants.
Cons: I already own three pairs of Target sweat pants.

F. Keep my eating, moving and clothes-wearing habits, but add to that "complaining about weight"
Pros: Nothing has to change from what I'm already doing.
Cons: Complaining takes effort, but it's nothing I'm not up to.

My analysis suggest F is the best course of action here.

We should all be looking forward to many more discussions about my eating habits and weight. Case closed.

coping mechanisms

2010-10-19T21:29:00.002-06:00

All my friends here in Dallas are teachers, because, let's be real: they're the only people I ever see/talk to. On the one hand this is nice. We all know how each other feels and no one disparages those of us (read: all of us) who prefer a 10 o'clock bedtime over just about anything else.

On the other hand . . . we all know how each other feels, and we feed into the negativity, exhaustion, and complacency we all find ourselves slipping into during week 9.

Our interactions usually begin in earnest—all of us proclaiming how nice it is to think/talk/exist about/for anything other than teaching for onceinourlives, but then what do we talk about? Teaching. More teaching. Office politics. District policies that drive us crazy. Students that drive us crazy. And then back to teaching.

Fast forward 10-15 minutes later . . .

We're all so exhausted from talking about teaching, and considering all the things we aren't getting done while bitching, that we immediately regret/feel guilty about hanging out together at all. "In fact, I should probably get back to grading," someone ends up saying. And then they usually do.

In fact, they come home every day and work. On the weekends? They're working. Saturday day? Working. All day Sunday? Working. No one even dares to think about getting together on Friday nights—that's when your back and feet feel like an atomic bomb has been unleashed in your body. It's sleep or death.

But what do I do?

Yesterday I rolled in from work at 6:00 p.m., ate my Taco Cabana (I wasn't lying to you, seriously), started reading Mockingjay, and went directly to sleep.

This weekend I didn't plan a single thing. Not one thing. And I don't even know what I'm teaching tomorrow.

Take that for what you will.

hint: I'm a terrible teacher. Secret's out.

creature of habit (or exhaution)

2010-10-14T11:12:00.005-06:00

Every night when my roomate Lindsay comes home, she always finds me doing roughly the same thing:

1. Watching television/a movie/playing the Wii
2. Eating Taco Cabana

If you guys don't know about Taco Cabana, then I don't know what you know. I haven't spoken of/eaten anything else since I moved to Texas, get this, almost 5 months ago.

A scene from last night:

SARAH
(on the floor in front of the couch drinking Dr. Pepper and eating chips and guacamole from Taco C.)

LINDSAY enters apartment.

LINDSAY
Hey, Sarah.

SARAH
Oh, hey, Linds.
(food in mouth, slightly coming out the corners)

LINDSAY
(awkard silence)

SARAH
I promise I do things other than watch t.v. and eat Taco Cabana.

LINDSAY
(disbelief and hints of nausea)

SARAH
I mean, I don't do many other things, but there are some things that I do besides this.

LINDSAY
(inaudible half-assent)

SARAH
Umm . . . want some chips?

LINDSAY
(goes into bedroom and shuts door)

SARAH
(shame-filled. still eating.)

when i get angry

2010-10-12T16:06:00.001-06:00

I have a lot of anger these days.

Yesterday, I was so mad at my kids for not turning in their homework/projects/ANYTHING that I fell asleep at 8:45 p.m. from the sheer exhaustion of it all.

Today, I was so irate at a student's parent (who dared come in to a parent-teacher conference and tell us that we were lying about how his child was behaving in class) that I couldn't even speak.

Also today, I wanted to pull my own hair out while hearing the school's librarian berate students for asking for a permanent pass to the library instead of waiting for her to offer one to them (a policy she came up with). Yes, ma'am, let's make children feel like idiots for asking to come to the library, gasp, as often as they want. HOW DARE THEY WANT TO DO SOMETHING IN THEIR SPARE TIME LIKE READ?!

Every day, I'm angry that the people I know who are good and kind and genuinely interested in relationships are alone, while those who only seem to have their own best interests at heart, are not. It's like wanting a relationship/being prepared for one/deserving one equals a giant, fat "no thanks" via the universe. Tell me, where is the justice in that? (spoiler alert: there is none.)

But I'm no good at anger. I can't sustain it, and it settles inside me instead, where I'm duly prepared to ignore it, until such a time as I can no longer take it and burst into tears.

I'm angry.

fair day

2010-10-09T15:25:00.003-06:00

In Utah, the state fair is really nothing for me (and my friends) but a vehicle for free Boyz II Men concerts. Other than that? Not interesting or interested. In Dallas, they give all students a day off school just to go to the fair. This blows my mind, but I will take it, because that meant I had yesterday off.

I woke up early-ish, and called a massage place asap. My entire back has been tense and knotted up from months of carrying around my suitcase-like purse from classroom to classroom. The massage was amazing, and exceptionally painful, and even though they always tell you to put back lots of water afterward because of the "toxins" or some nonsense, I never do that. Not smart. Today my body feels like something uncomfortable; I don't even know what, but it's not good.

Yesterday was also my bestie Adrien's birthday, and her mom flew into town for the occasion. Moms are doing that these days, apparently. We went out to dinner just the three of us, and had an exceptional conversation. It was the first time I've really felt like me since I left Utah in June.

Topics included:

1. The Beales of Grey Gardens
2. The Kennedys
3. The Roosevelts (specifically Eleanor)
4. Madness
5. Romanticism
6. Sylvia Plath
7. The link between creative genius and emotional disorders
8. Birth order dynamics in families
9. Ayn Rand and Atlas Shrugged
10. Alan Greenspan (whom I adore)
11. How teaching is kicking the shit out of me and Adrien
12. Law school (gross)
13. Me becoming an astronaut
14. Me getting a PhD in chemistry
15. How apples have been genetically modified to the point of almost total deviation from the original, "wild" North American apple. Also, additional information on the history and breeding of the Honeycrisp apple, otherwise known as the world's best apple ever. (This information was provided by me, of course. I am the biggest nerd any of you probably know.)
16. The corporate culture of Disney and the one time I worked at Disneyworld for a month before I realized my cynicism wasn't a good match for "the happiest/worst place on earth." (Should've seen that coming, really.)

Even just typing out that list makes me happy. God bless Adrien and her mom for letting me ramble on about all the ridiculous things I'm interested/obsessed/fascinated/obsessed in/with/whathaveyou.

All in all it was good.

things i'm not letting myself think about at present

2010-10-06T20:21:00.000-06:00

1. Just how long it is until I get to go home for Thanksgiving. Seeing the ticket confirmation email in my inbox may have been the best email I've received in about 10 years.

2. How exceedingly annoying my sixth period class is.

3. How many hours I've spent playing Mario Galaxy 2 on the Wii in the last three days. It's not flattering.

4. Missing Steve. Wholly unproductive. He's done, I'm done. Everybody's done.

5. How early I told two of my students I'd meet them tomorrow morning for early-morning tutoring: 7 a.m.

6. That I'll have to round up several dozen of my students outside school before the bell tomorrow morning to spot-check their homework packets. They love it when I make them do homework on the front steps of the school at 8 a.m. Just love it.

7. The odds of me ever becoming an astronaut.

8. The odds are me never becoming an astronaut.

9. The one student I can't seem to get through to, no matter how I try.

10. When I'll finally get to have a baby or a dog. (Yes, or.)

spoke too soon

2010-10-05T21:21:00.000-06:00

One of my 104 students did end up failing the first six weeks—he got a lovely 40% on his end-of-unit exam. He was 1.5% within range of not failing, but I couldn't find it in myself to bump him up to that whopping 70%. For two reasons:

1) When I look my kids in the eye and tell them they're the ones who've accomplished something, I want that to be true. I could've easily given him that 1.5%, but it would've been 1.5% that he didn't earn.

2) I want to get these kids as ready for the real world as a sixth grader can/ought to be. And if you're within 1.5% away from the GPA cut off for college admission, guess who isn't getting in? Better that he learn that now than in six years.

Except, did I mention, the common thread among my failing male students is that they all plan on going into the military straight out of high school? The. military. I can't for the life of me imagine what they think it is they'll find there, but okay.

But only one failing student? I think that's good news.

when i get irate

2010-10-04T20:34:00.001-06:00

There are really good days with my students, when the "honey"s and "sweetheart"s are flying out of my mouth, and everyone gets stickers and lollipops for being so wonderful.

And then there are days like today. When I tell them to work on their homework silently for the rest of class, and did I mention silently?, no seriously, SILENTLY, or else it will be off with someone's head.

Usually this irrational anger comes from one of two places:

1) having to repeat myself an inordinate number of times
2) catching students staring off into space when no one, and I mean NO ONE, has any reason to be confused about what they're supposed to be doing

Today, it seems, my kids got together during lunch and, because they have nothing better to do (like, learn), plotted to do both things at once, in a shit storm of all the things Ms. C hates and will become irate at you for doing.

Strong language? I mean it.

In a moment of admitted weakness, I even said to one student today, "[Student name], what are you staring at? Do I have to come stand next to you and make sure you do your work? I'm not your babysitter." Except, am I? Because I SWEAR I AM.

And did I mention that on my first unit survey, many of my students suggested we do more "fun" activities in class? and that one of them even said, "Get closer to your students and then they'll do the work for you"???

Because, you guys, I'm not sure if the memo was sent out en masse and I just wasn't checking that day, but evidently a teacher's job isn't just to educate it's also to blow fire and juggle running chainsaws all so kids will feel motivated to DO THEIR JOB, WHICH IS TO COME TO SCHOOL, LEARN, AND DO THEIR GD WORK.

Ahem. Excuse me.

In other news: none of my 104 students failed the first six weeks. Not without me corralling all the near-failures in a room last Thursday until 6 p.m. until they finished their make-up, however. You guys. This is my job.

alter ego

2010-09-29T21:54:00.010-06:00

Sometimes I think/am curious/want to research random things.

On our road trip of 22-hours drive from Utah to Dallas, I asked Michelle to look up approximately 100 different things, including but not limited to: what is freon made of, how do they make erasers, etc. I asked her so often that I would so much as give her a sideways glance, and she'd immediately say: "I'm not looking that up."

The other day I was wondering how I could calculate how long it would take for a Dairy Queen Blizzard to fall out of its cup if it were held upside down, accounting for the pull of gravity, of course. All because I saw a billboard with an upside down Blizzard on it.

Basically what I'm saying is I'm really smart, and you should feel super intimidated by me right now.

Along this same vein, I found myself this evening wondering who I would be if I could be anyone else. First thought: anyone who has been to space. Obviously. But, more specifically, anyone who has been to the moon. Obviously, again.

But then I had all sorts of other considerations run through my mind, like: Buzz Aldrin went to the moon, without the pressure of being Neil Armstrong, but then he came home and was a cheating drunk and most recently (and most unconscionable of all) appeared on Dancing with the Stars. Shudder.

I haven't decided quite yet, but here is my preliminary list, with considerations included.

Neil Armstrong: First person to ever walk on the moon. First civilian of the original batch of astronauts, so he never had to the military thing. I'm not into the military thing. Then again, being the first also means everyone haunts you for the rest of your life (hence, why he does, like, one interview a decade). Also, how do you top being the first man on the moon? I know: you don't.

Jim Lovell: Definitely my favorite astronaut, but there's a very significant snag: he never actually set foot on the moon. Two moon missions and not one foot placed on the surface. That basically sucks. Then again, he does own his own airplane. This has potential.

Ed White: Exceptionally hot. But died in a freak accident, not even in space, but during a lame training simulation. We'll leave it at that.

Any current-day astronaut: They have loads of space time, and many of them have had long-term stints on the International Space Station. But, snag, none of them have been to the moon. The moon is a priority for me. Just fyi.

Big Edie Beale: I just finished watching "The Beales of Grey Gardens", and there's really only one word for Big Edie: captivating. It's essentially impossible for me to put into words my utter fascination with her, but I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that she lived in a run-down, once-was multi-million dollar East Hampton mansion with cats, raccoons, and her crazy daughter, and yet nothing about her was crazy at all. In fact, everything she says strikes me as oddly profound and blindingly normal, but in the absolute best way. And she was so very beautiful. Didn't ever go to space, though.

Sylvia Plath: Dead and crazy. The Bell Jar is approximately 152 insights into my soul, but her poetry goes wayyy beyond my realm of comfort. Besides, Ted Hughes? Hell to the no, people. He was the worst kind of person. Quote me on that.

That is what I have so far. But you can bet I'll keep working on it.

the updates

2010-09-28T21:06:00.003-06:00

1. We're down to only 8 of my 104 (they took quite a few out, phew) students failing. They have until Friday to get those grades up or their sorry selves will be my best friend/worst enemy until come June. Mark my words.

2. Things are over with Steve. Things that never officially started? And yet, still over. Over and out.

3. Razzle B Dazzle and I are running the Dallas marathon. Well. Let's be specific. She's running the full marathon, and I'm running the half. Another 13.1 miles, with plenty of opportunity for more heinously unattractive pictures. Excellent.

4. Modern Family is back on, and Cameron makes me the happiest woman alive. Also, so does Phil. Genius.

5. I've decided to start talking to people in my ward. General Conference is next week, so I've got a one-week buffer there, but don't count on me keeping this up for very long. My history with this sort of thing is, well, spotty. Mainly because most people rub my nerves raw.

6. Being a teacher is expensive. There's a whole lot of bitching come budget time when people talk about how much money is already going to public education. Well, friends, please do me a favor and also factor in how much money teachers are spending of their own salaries to buy your kids pencils and paper and whiteboards and dry erase markers to use in class. And then let me slap you.

7. Dre bought my plane ticket home for Thanksgiving. Not as in she bought it, but as in she booked it for me, for me to pay her back. Bless Thanksgiving. Seriously. Bless it. And Christmas break. And spring break. But, mostly, summer.

8. I'm eating cotton candy right now.

Good day.

hi (only good things)

2010-09-22T21:36:00.002-06:00

Pieces of good news and information:

1. Only 17% of my 120-some-odd students have below an 80% in my class. Could be because I'm very busy injecting knowledge into their wee brains, or it could be due to staggering amounts of grade inflation. Let's leave it at that.

2. My instructional coach (a.k.a. the head veteran teacher in the Language Arts department) came to observe me teach for the second time this year. After school, I dragged myself up to her office for some words of wisdom (things are running thin 'round here these days). Really I just wanted her to tell me no children were overtly being harmed by my presence in the classroom.

Good news is she didn't seem to think so. In fact, she said, "I'm actually really amazed by you. Never in my career have I seen a teacher as polished as you, so early in their career." I may have teared up after that. I'm an easy sell.

3. Roommate Lindsay and I saw "Going the Distance" last weekend, and I love Justin Long. I love him. No. Really. I love him, in a like "if you love it so much, why don't you marry it?" kind of way. Also the song "If You Run" by The Boxer Rebellion that's on the soundtrack. Geeeeeeenius.

4. I've nearly lost all of my summer institute-and-unlimited-meal-plan-plus-cafeteria weight gain. Could be due to crippling anxiety, but again, let's leave that, right . . . there.

5. A quick October trip to New York is in the works to see Danielle and Michael. I love them. They may not love the verbal vomit that spews on them incessantly when I'm near them, but I love them. These are the things that count.

6. I'm rereading Anna Karenina and remembering why tragedy is so beautiful. Also, researching local mental health professionals for when the realization that I really believe what I just wrote sinks in.

Good day to you and yours.

this is james (and the weekend)

2010-09-17T17:12:00.000-06:00

This is my friend James. James is ridiculous. And he told me to put this video on my blog for all my friends to watch. He evidently is under the impression I have 1) friends and 2) people who read my blog. He's so precious when he doesn't think things through.

Alas.

I've actually watched it a few times now—mainly to see the part when he's sitting on the floor taking on and off his sunglasses rapidly.

Also, happy weekend. I'm soaking in the Friday Night Lights and will be frantically searching for a Tim Riggins look-a-like. Hopefully one who isn't underage, though. Although if it actually were Tim Riggins, there's always Canada.

Good day.

okay, hello there (my birthday!)

2010-09-09T19:40:00.002-06:00

I've been missing for a little while.

Things have been happening.

I went to Kansas City for Labor Day weekend to see my brother and sister-in-law, and my sister and her two kids (my babies) Ava and Abby. Being around them was just glorious. Especially my little ones, who ran around like monkeys and punctured my ribs/lungs with their surprisingly bony appendages. Also, we ate a lot, because in my family, vacations (and every day life) are mainly geared toward eating our feelings. It's right. It's just right.

I got a cold from my lovely little angels at school that has now turned into some sort of respiratory situation. As it always seems to. I'm trying to avoid actual work as a way of fending off what will probably (as it usually does) turn into bronchitis. I get that a lot.

I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday in blinding pain, which then led to vomiting due to said pain, and then crawling to my roommate's (a nurse) room to sob and experience my entire body shaking from the pain. It was not awesome. Turns out, I may have ruptured a cyst. (Sorry any males who are reading this. Facts of life. Just ask your mother.) If giving birth feels anything like what I experienced that night, then I'm getting two epidurals, numbness be damned.

I'm currently watching "Things We Lost in the Fire" and Benicio del Toro is excessively attractive. I first saw this move with Brooke over a Fourth of July we spent in Vail. I miss Brooke. She was the best to watch movies with. She's on a mission now.

Saturday is my birthday—hello, 25! Dre is coming, as you know, and I'm happy about it. But I'm not happy about all the laundry/housekeeping I'm going to have to do before tomorrow night when she arrives. She cannot know the actual state I live in.

I've been spending all evening baking sugar cookies for my birthday celebration with my angels tomorrow. I told them I better be their most favorite teacher for that. I think I'll win them over.

I probably won't speak with you before then, so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! It might be time to start looking into Botox.

cryptic

2010-08-30T15:28:00.002-06:00

Normally this is a space where I write loads and loads about my feelings and shockingly unfounded opinions on a myriad of topics. I am feeling, however, slightly constrained by the limits of the public nature of this blog as of late.

Meaning: how on earth am I supposed to bitch about my job on the interwebs? I cannot.

Meaning: how can I talk candidly about being a total chump for Steve when he reads this blog, and, therefore, could witness me taking "chump" to all new heights? I cannot. (No, seriously. Seriously.)

Meaning: there are other things, too, that I'd normally divulge, but don't seem to be able to as of late.

So I will be cryptic, instead:

1. Please stop telling me I can do things and how to do things, and then tell me later on that I cannot do them and/or I did them the wrong way.
2. Shed several tears over poor handwriting, the poems my kids wrote about their lives, and general comments about sirens going off at night and kids who wish their lives were safe for just a day. *heartbreak
3. I'd like to be emotionally normal.
4. You think you deal with things, maybe because you ignore them, but then they somehow reemerge and are suddenly(?) the Horrible, Inevitable Thing You Assume is Going to Happen All the Time from Here on Out. And then you cry about it. And you are a bit of a crazy person.

I don't feel a bit like I got anything off my chest. (Very large sigh and general shrugging of shoulders.)

i survived

2010-08-24T07:59:00.000-06:00

Yesterday came and went. And I didn't once wish I were dead. So, I figure that's a good thing.

I had a classroom full of 35 kids for 5th period . . . and 21 desks. We were kicking it old-school style and sitting on tables, counters, etc. Well, I wasn't. I was at the front of the room.

By the end of the day, I was fairly certain someone had sucked all the energy out of me. Teaching for five straight periods is no joke, folks. No. joke.

Today I'll be catching up on all the things I should've taught yesterday, but didn't, because middle school periods are a time vortex and the next thing you know the kids are moving to their next class. I never thought the words "I need more time with them!" would apply to me and sixth graders.

Also, I know I haven't talked about it before, because he reads this blog. (Hi, Steve!) But I like him. Steve, that is. So, yeah. I figured you all should know. The end. (Can you tell I'm being very abnormally vague about this because he reads this blog? Yeah.)

this is it

2010-08-23T05:44:00.001-06:00

Today is the first day of school.

Throughout the day, I'll be meeting the approximate 145 students who will be walking through my door. I think this is one of those times TFA gets it right when they say I'm the only 6th grade language arts teacher these kids will ever have, and that's kind of a big deal.

Maybe shouldn't have been concentrating on making things out of Playdoh during all those literacy sessions I sat through this summer? In any case.

Here goes!

he's kidding, right? (and the weekend)

2010-08-20T18:22:00.006-06:00

I came home from a long, long day at work (putting together my little cart, dealing with the usual office politics, and meeting more students) to open my email and find this:

Really, B-o-b? Really?

Evidently the "I never want to hear from you ever again, under any circumstances, or for any reason" didn't exactly resonate with him. (see: the time I told him never to talk to me again.)

To be fair: we have been broken up now for eight months. And, when I saw his name in my email inbox I had NO emotional reaction to it. Like, none. At all. Nothing. Ooooh . . . except now that I'm letting myself think about it, I sort of am. (No! Unacceptable!)

But what should I do? It's not like we're going to chat or anything on LinkedIn, for pete's sake. But, oh! What if he wants to chat?! Then again, if he wanted to chat he'd probably just send me an email. Right? And, he's probably dating someone else by now, anyway. And, I hated his teeth. And, I sort of hated him by the end of it, too. And, knowing him, he probably didn't think anything of it at all, because he rarely did much thinking—at all—about how such things might make me feel. We (read: HE) were (was) way too busy talking about how smart/talented/wonderful he was.

Except remember the time he told me he had a crush on me? Ouch. And remember the time I wrote this blog post? I may or may not have just reread it. Damn.

Okay, okay. Get it together, chump. It's just a LinkedIn invitation.

But let's be real: this will probably perplex me for another solid hour. At which point I'll start thinking about what I want to eat for dinner, and then I'll probably never think about it again.

Have a good weekend.

(oh, and did I mention he designs jewelry/custom portraits/interiors of homes/etc. now? Instead of getting a job in architecture because, you know, THAT'S THE REASON HE IS IN GRAD SCHOOL??! Ahem. Glad to get that off my chest.)

back-to-school night

2010-08-17T21:30:00.006-06:00

Thursday night is back-to-school night and I'll be meeting, presumably anyway, some of my new students and their parents. This sort of thing was typically attended by the most eager of us back in my day, which is to say I'm expecting to meet all the parents I won't need to talk to during the year, and none of the ones I will.

Isn't it admirable the way I can find the negative in any situation? Yikes. Those parents/students at back-to-school night will be the thin threads holding together my unraveling sanity. (Still slightly negative? I'm not addressing that.)

So far school has been . . . interesting. I've never worked in a more political environment in all my days. Let's just say I walked in there Monday morning and no one was making any bones about who was in with whom and who was out. I presume it will take me a solid six months or so to notate all the hidden rules and norms all the veterans have under their belts. Any new job has an adjustment period, though.

For now I'm working on getting together all the papers my kids will need during the first week: syllabi, letters to parents (in Spanish and English — not that I'll be the one translating, let's be real), supply lists, unit calendars, student objective trackers, etc. The education industry is the real culprit when it comes to killing trees.

But am I doing any of that right now? Absolutely not. I'm watching and re-watching (for the millionth time) Thomas Lynch recite his essay "Tract" from one of my favorite, favorite books of all time — The Undertaking. It's sad, and lovely, and I may or may not have ugly cried the first (100) times I watched it.

Case in point:

"As for guilt—it's much overrated. Here are the facts in the case at hand: I've known the love of the ones who have loved me. And I've known that they've known that I've loved them, too. Everything else, in the end, seems irrelevant. But if guilt is the thing, forgive yourself, forgive me."

"Whatever's there to feel, feel it—the riddance, the relief, the fright and freedom, the fear of forgetting, the dull ache of your own mortality. Go home in pairs. Warm to the flesh that warms you still. Get with someone you can trust with tears, with anger, and wonderment and utter silence. Get that part done—the sooner the better. The only way around these things is through them."

Would it be creepy if I said I wanted to have his literary babies for the fact that he wrote those two paragraphs? Yes? Because I would.

You can watch him reading it, too (but I'm not promising you'll want to have his babies, real or literary), here.

wish me luck

2010-08-15T22:15:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is my first official day as a teacher.

We're all meeting together as a staff to talk about who knows what, really, and then a week from tomorrow I'll meet my sixth graders.

I'm nervous about this. I'm excited about this. I'm really just ready to get this ball rolling so I can have something productive to do with my time.

In preparation, I've written lesson plans and thought (or obsessed?) about class procedures, student jobs, all the things I'm going to have to fit on the cart I'll be rolling between the two classrooms I teach in. (Right now is when you're really jealous of me. And I can't say I blame you.)

Mostly I'm ready to stop emotionally over-investing in other, less productive, things. Basically what I'm saying is there are a few other things I'm eager to stop thinking about all the time so I can think about 1) things I can actually control and 2) things that don't make me feel like crap.

Wish me luck, folks. I might need it?

happy birthday to me!

2010-08-11T15:58:00.000-06:00

It is not, in fact, my birthday today.

BUT . . . it will be in 31 days.

And Dre! Dre! will be coming! I'm so very excited about it. So, so very excited about it. I can't possible turn the ripe age of 25 without her here to thank for it. (Double meaning with a slight underlying sense of resentment at being a quarter of a century old? Yes.)


Me and Dre (reppin' the cougars). Do try and ignore my appearance. I had just run 13.1 miles. Judgers.

All I'm saying is, things might get weird when I try and force her to stay.

the time i got owned by a towel rack

2010-08-10T22:09:00.005-06:00

I like to get things done.

I particularly like to get things done when I know that, in two weeks, around 120–150 twelve-year-olds will consume my thoughts, energy, and general will to live/get out of bed in the morning. It's time to get things done, before I have to regularly remind myself we all get to make choices, and this insanity just happens to be mine.

Moving into an entirely unfurnished apartment is an experience of getting things done. An "experience" involving lots of credit card spending and generalized anxiety attacks about said credit card spending. There are so many items one has to purchase to dwell in a home farther than 45-minutes from Dre. Have I told you? Dre has everything. Dre has everything anyone has ever needed, will need, will not need, and will certainly never consider or want to consider needing at any point. She comes prepared. Which, naturally, means I never do.

Today, for example, I realized I couldn't make Ina's Chicken Stew with Biscuits, because not only did I not have onions to caramelize beforehand, but I sure as hell didn't have chicken bullion either. Chicken. bullion. I made shepherd's pie last week and muddled through eating it because I HAD NO SALT. Who in their life has ever purchased salt, for pete's sake? Salt comes from the wellspring of Dre's kitchen pantry, where salt, sugar, flour and only heaven knows what else are in continuous supply. Or else Dad will go get it.

And it's not just food. Which brings me to my story.

I purchased a towel rack at IKEA to hang up the ridiculously cozy, white bath towels I bought for my new house. I was on top of things: I even purchased a tool kit (a TOOL KIT!) to aid in hanging up of said towel rack. But then, then . . . the screwdriver didn't fit in the small, cylindrical metal thingy that you're supposed to attach to the wall.

So, I complained about it for about a week or so (mostly in my brain) and considered all the alternate contraptions I could rig up to avoid having to move any part of myself outside my apartment door. Sadly, all I had to work with were large amounts of dental floss and a roll of double-sided tape, and even my ingenuity can't make something acceptable for towel hanging out of that.

So, tonight I finally went and purchased a thin, .99 screwdriver I was certain would fit in said cylinder. Which it did. And when I hung up the towel rack (and, thus, screwed two very large holes in the fresh new drywall of my brand-new apartment), this was the result:

A hung towel rack, yes, but one capable of sustaining approximately one facial towel and three Kleenex tissues, but only single ply. (as is evidenced by the left side nearly being ripped out the wall from the weight of one of said cozy, white towels)

Towel rack (symbolic of the adult universe): 1
Sarah: 0

the time i was awkward (part 578)

2010-08-08T22:14:00.003-06:00

There once was a time, long ago presumably, that I had what most people call a "filter." Meaning, a time before I said whatever came to mind, whenever it came to mind.

Evidently I'm not really into that anymore, and I say a lot of things that end up dropping like a dead weight of awkwardness—and I'm ground zero.

Speaking of which, is there another word besides awkward that could really encapsulate what I mean? Because I hesitate to overuse a particular adjective, but what else is there to work with here?

In any case, let's skip down to the evidence.

The following texting conversation occurred this weekend between me and a certain someone I know from TFA:

(Background — I regularly make comments to this certain someone that somewhat obliquely tell him he looks very attractive with a scruffy face. So, we're already working with a base level of awkwardness here. Be warned.)

Me: I may have had a dream last night that you appeared in wherein I quit TFA and we got in a plane crash. It was very disconcerting. Just fyi. *Funny. But, how normal is it to tell someone you're dreaming about them, really?

Him: Haha Oh, Sarah. You better not quit TFA and please stay away from any planes. I'm glad I appeared in a dream you had, though. *Reasonable response. I could've just left it there. But, no.

Me: Don't worry. The dream was traumatizing enough that I'll be avoiding both those things. You were scruffy in the dream, though, so it wasn't all bad. *I'll let you take a minute, here, to cringe at that. [minute] I know. I KNOW. The hell?

Him: Haha! You're so crazy. I'm scruffy right now, actually.*Now he's just being rude.

Me: Crazy is a word for it, yes. And you and your scruff! You would be on a day like this.*meaning, a day I won't see him. Seriously. . . . I KNOW. Why is this happening?

Him: I need to shave it off, though. But maybe I'll surprise you on Monday.*luckily here is where we start fading out.

Me: I won't get my hopes up. A girl can only take so much back and forth.*okay. that was just funny.

Fast forward to tonight:

Him: I just got a clean shave. I'm ready for a solid workday on Monday.*evidently now he's trying to placate my awkwardness. I'll take it.

Me: Oh, [his name]. So inconsiderate. *We ended on a high note.

Let me recap: I had a dream about a boy, I then texted said boy about having a dream about him, and then proceeded to tell him he looked attractive in said dream (like a total creep), and then have a fake-real conversation with him about him not shaving his face.

It's like I keep thinking I've hit an all-time low of no shame, and then things like this happen. But, the way I see it, if a boy looks attractive, someone ought to tell him so. Can't argue with that.

hi, there

2010-07-31T22:31:00.003-06:00

Hello. How are you? What is up? What's the 411? What's the latest? What is everyone talking about?

I haven't been around much because I haven't had much to say/haven't known how to say what I do have to say/have had a lot of conflicting feelings that can't be wrapped up in a bow and tied into a coherent product. And, let's be real, in no way will what I'm about to say be an answer to that.

1. I haven't made a quilt in a while (Michelle and Rachael's AND Jackie's are currently residing on the floor of my closet at my parent's house. Whoops.), and I don't really have time to do so. But this quilt is so beautiful, I might just not be able to resist:

I love the randomness of the colors and patterns, and I've been itching to quilt something less manufactured looking and more I-made-this-out-of-scraps-of-fabric-and-worn-out-shirts. Again, no time. But I need, I neeeeeed. Here's another look for you, in case you need me to justify this any more:

You're beautiful. I need you.

2. I found out on Wednesday that I won't be a sixth grade reading teacher—I'll be a sixth grade ELAR teacher, which really is just a fancy way of saying I'll be teaching those monsters how to write and diagram sentences. Is that ironic in this context? I feel like it is.

3. It's really started to hit me, this whole me living in Dallas thing. And since we were needing to get down to the real serious stuff about now, anyway—ahem—I have to say I'm lonely. Lonely for Em, and my most precious (yes, Bestie O'Neil, I stole that from you and now say it all the time), and my parents, and my siblings, and my friends, and the mountains, and the Salt Lake Public Library's intra-library delivery system, etc. etc.

Me and my most precious. Note: this is a typical look for her.

I keep looking to the people around me to know me and be all the things everyone is for me at home. And they aren't that. They don't know me, or understand me, or read my mind, or know exactly what parts of songs are absolutely going to slay me when I hear them. They don't already know about the time I followed some supermarket-parking-lot swindlers on a high-speed chase through downtown Salt Lake just to prove once and for all that you never give money to people on the street. That's an essential story to know.

They can't be that for me now, not two or three or whatever weeks in. The people who do know me that way didn't always. It's a process, and I've already met a lot of people I'm glad to have met and who have made this all a little easier on me. It will all get better, and it all takes time, blah blah. But for now I'm contented with that loneliness, so that's what you're going to get from me. You're welcome.

4. The good news is, I can finally take my Netflix account off it's temporary hold, and then all will be as it should be. AND, they just put up new episodes of Shark Week. I, for one, am glad there are certain things in this world one can always count on.

back to work

2010-07-23T07:40:00.001-06:00

Today I'm boarding a plane back to Dallas, and back to lesson planning and achievement gaps and generally working a little bit more everyday to become the most important person that ever existed. Which is really just to say: I'm looking to top Lady Gaga. Anything's possible (and I'm older than her anyway).

I'm halfway excited (ready to move into my apartment and get to work on working for a paycheck) and halfway sad all over again. I said goodbye to Em in her apartment yesterday morning as she left from work and then proceeded to (no exaggerations here, folks) sob for a solid 10 minutes. She really put it best when she said it felt so natural for us to be hanging out together again, and so unnatural for me to be leaving to fly a thousand or so miles away. (and, yes, we're creepy.)

This week I saw my most precious Lauren, my siblings, and almost all of my friends; I read good books, slept in a whole lot, and cuddled with my dog (who conveniently forgot me over the last six weeks and, therefore, forgot that we don't usually like each other/cuddle).

I'm trying not to remember that this time I'm leaving home for the next four months at least, which will really be the longest I've ever been away from my family and this place I've called home for nearly 25 years. It seems so much longer when you put it that way, and yet not nearly descriptive of how long it has frequently felt.

Today when I arrive in Dallas, I'll be paying the obscene amount airport parking is going to charge me due to my ineptitude and lack of experience with such things at DFW. Then, I'll be trying to purchase a bed—brother Keith says I may be air-mattressing it tonight if they don't offer same-day delivery—which really leads me to my next question: why is there not some adult-life handbook that specifies these things? Good thing I'll be playing it fast and loose and purchasing a twin. I'm planning on the store having at lease one of those in stock.

At any rate. Good day to you and yours. See you in Texas.

retrospective

2010-07-19T10:59:00.001-06:00

I've finally made it to mountain time, and am currently sitting at my kitchen table in sweat pants, catching up on gchat with friends and listening to Joe Purdy. Basically what I'm telling you is that everything is right in the world and is as it should be. Particularly about the sweat pants part.

I got into Salt Lake Saturday night and promptly went to dinner at Cafe Rio with Danielle and Michael. Bless them for meeting up with me so late and for asking questions and listening to me ramble about my students and gangs and, in general, my feelings ad nauseam. They are used to this. They are saints.

So far I've done the following during my stay: nothing. Actually, I take that back, I watched two movies yesterday and didn't move from my parent's bed (except for necessities, of course) for about 15 straight hours. "America's Got Talent" was also watched to an excessive, and probably wholly disturbing, degree. Although I won't say by whom.

I have, though, woken up every day at roughly 7:00 a.m. in a heart-racing panic about lesson planning, and whether I've missed my bus to school, and if I've printed out the handouts I need for today's lesson, and what I'll do differently today when I want to punch my kids for being twits, etc. etc. Hard habits to break, I suppose.

My plans for today include the following: taking out Ashley to lunch so I can pick her middle-school-teacher brain about procedures and lesson planning, and how she keeps herself from punching 12-year-olds. After that, it's dinner and lots of talking with Lani, who always helps me laugh things off and generally enjoy myself. Then back to sleep, because that's what I'm here for right? Let's all admit that.

Also, I have a few more episodes of "America's Got Talent" to watch. I'm just being honest, here, people. Take me for what I am.

have you ingested enough negativity yet?

2010-07-12T21:05:00.003-06:00

I know. I'm not chipper these days. I'm not funny these days.

But, here are the things:

1. I am exhausted. In ways I didn't even know a human could be exhausted.
2. I am largely at the end of my rope.
3. I am counting down hours and class periods and interactions and thoughts until Saturday, when I will pack up my car, drive back to Dallas, and then drive myself to DFW to hop on a plane to glorious Utah (or "mountain time," as my friend from Colorado calls it).
4. I've never been away from my family for this long. Ever.
5. I miss my friends.
6. I'm disappointed in how I feel about my students (e.g. I don't like them).
7. I'm ready to spend five days doing nothing related to lesson planning or backwards planning or classroom management planning, etc. etc.
8. I'm ready to move into my new apartment in Dallas and finally feel settled for the first time since March, when I found out about TFA.
9. I'm tired of waking up between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. every day. This is not an exaggeration.
10. I'm tired of listening to my roommate yell at her husband, father, sister, mother, etc. on the phone. Yes. Yell. And patronize, etc. She actually just said, "Stop [husband's name]. Stop." Because he was talking about something she didn't want him to talk about, because she just remembered something she wanted to tell him. This is not a joke.
11. I'm ready to have my own classroom with my own rules and my own stuff, and an actual CLUE what's going on before 20 minutes before I give my lesson plan.

The good news is:

1. A girl in my group dropped out, so another girl in my group and I have taken over her ESL class. Which means? Two lesson plans a day for this girl. Which would suck, except these ESL kids are little angels, who respect me, and (largely) each other, and who actually care about learning. Go figure. They often are my only saving grace right before I have to go interact with my original monsters.
2. I went to the Houston Space Center on Saturday with friend Adrien, and, don't worry, WE SPENT SIX HOURS THERE. Thank goodness for her and for her being willing to spend $25 just to get in, and for being as excited as anyone possibly could be for the nerd vomit I was about to spew on her. Turns out she appreciated it when I preempted our audio tour with the very details it was about to give, like an obnoxious know-it-all. Go figure.
3. I'm nearly fully over my ridiculous school-girl crush on AGB. Let's just say it was silliness. Except he is pretty and we do laugh at a lot of the same stuff. But it was silliness. (Like I said, nearly fully.)

I MUST be an astronaut. I won't survive this life otherwise.

would it really be that surprising

2010-07-09T21:15:00.001-06:00

. . . to any of you, if I said I really wouldn't mind seeing a few (read: most) of my summer school students ever again?

Case(s) in point:

Student response to the quiz question: What is onomatopoeia?
your the teacher you tell me

Student response when asked if I ought to be calling his parents
if you want to

Student response when I told the class they shouldn't be under the impression that they'll all be moving on to the seventh grade
student walked out of line, imitated my behavior and then walked back in line

The stories go on and on.

AND . . . my school administration sent home by best student because HE HAD A MARKER IN HIS POCKET that his math teacher (who I might slightly dislike) forgot to collect it from the students along with 10 or so other students (they had recently found graffiti in the bathroom and sent home any student they found with the contraband) . . . AND left me with the three douchiest kids in my class.

Three douchey kids who probably were just street smart enough not to get caught are left in class, and my best student is sent home after I've just tried (and failed) to comfort his sobbing self in the hallway. I kid you not. Sobbing.

Welcome to education?

I think so.

Good news: only one week left, and I can kiss that classroom goodbye, and hopefully only have one or two douchey kids in my class instead of 5 or 6. Fingers crossed, universe. My number really ought to be coming up.

it feels something a bit like this:

2010-06-29T18:02:00.002-06:00

three to go

2010-06-26T10:54:00.002-06:00

Here it is from week two, the good, the bad and the ugly:

The Good:
- When my summer mentor teacher raved and raved about me for fifteen minutes after my second lesson, saying she'd never seen anyone who was a more natural teacher than me in her whole career.
- When my group leader told me I was, in fact, a natural and that I'm the best lesson planner in our group by "leaps and bounds". (And then I cried. Yep.)
- When my kids were well behaved (and LEARNING, go figure!) for me, even though they gave their other teachers a hard go of it.
- All the great people I've met here who make me laugh, who commiserate with me about lesson planning and the lovely propaganda we get shoved in our faces.
- Not having to worry about feeding myself or getting myself to school or doing dishes, or any of that. I think I'd lose my freaking mind if I had to worry about that stuff, too.
- Air conditioning. It makes this life bearable.

The Bad:
- The exhaustion that lead to shoddy lesson plans and snappishness and emotional volatility and hurt feelings left and right for no good reason.
- Crying in the school bathroom when my kids were awful in class, they didn't learn anything, and stupid AGB is lame and loves himself wayyy too much.
- Broken head phones + people chatting it up around me = an inability to concentrate on work = shoddy lesson plans and disappointment in my performance.
- Feeling like a teen again, where everything is the end of the world and everyone's opinions of me matter more than my own opinion of me.
- Not even knowing what my own opinion of me is at the moment.
- Missing the deep connections I have with people back home, and the weirdness that results when I forget I don't have them with these people, but yet I'm acting like I do.

The Ugly:
- How I acted toward my kids on Friday. I was exhausted and they were seriously pissing me off. I'm not saying they didn't deserve it, but I ought to have been more in control.
- The royal cut down I received from the universe after internally gloating that I had my kids in order when the other teachers were struggling.
- And the resulting realization that I'm no better than anyone else here at this, and that it will take work from me, too.

Only three to go.

do this

2010-06-25T17:47:00.002-06:00

Just a few clicks of your mouse...

Chase Community Giving is back to give away another $5 million, and you help decide which 200 local charities receive donations.
On July 13, they’ll announce 200 winning charities

* One charity will receive $250k
* 4 runners-up will receive $100k
* 195 others will receive $20k

Please vote for WWHI! Click here to vote!

Danielle is part of Women's World Health Initiative, and would like your vote!

So go do it.

Thank you.

classroom management

2010-06-21T18:13:00.000-06:00

My first day as a teacher is officially over! Praise the sweet heavens of mercy above!

No, but really, my kids weren't that bad at all. They actually were really sweet and, I could tell, really wanted to show me that could be good students. Evidently, though, they weren't all that concerned about that in fourth period, when they had to be told 50 million times to shut up.

Oh, grade school. We meet again, and I remember the joys of you.

Tomorrow I have three lesson plans due (remember how I said you'd hear from me every time that was the case?), so I've got to get to it.

Happy Monday night to you all. You can call me Ms. C from now on. Because I am very legit and teacher-like.

i'm sensing a theme (and happy father's day) (and a brain dump)

2010-06-20T18:08:00.000-06:00

(HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DADDY! I LOVE YOU!)

Folks, yet again we meet on the eve of lesson plans coming due. And yet again I am blogging instead of revising, as I ought to be doing. At least you can rely on me for predictability, right? Maybe this week I'll make a calendar for ya'll to reference so you can expect blog posts the night before everything is due.

Whoa. Did I just type "ya'll"? Wow. I can't even bring myself to delete it.

The residual exhaustion works wonders in the way of blogging.

At any rate . . . things are going pretty a-okay here. Nothing is going on with AGB (America's Golden Boy), but that could be because 1) he has a girlfriend (did I forget to mention that teeny detail?) and 2) he's not that into me. The combination of those has been equaling a mutual ignoring from the both of us: me ignoring him so I don't look like that girl and him ignoring me, well, maybe not ignoring, but just not noticing me. We've come to an understanding of sorts.

But I tell you, people, my brain has been in a hazy fog for the last two weeks, two weeks that have felt more like a month than fourteen days. There's something to be said for living the same place your whole life, and that's that I know myself backward and forwards in Utah. I've been in so many of the same situations over and over again that I am never at a loss to make at least a prediction about how I'll respond to any given scenario.

But everything that's been happening here are things I've never experienced before. Different kinds of people I've never interacted with, high expectations I've never encountered (or that I couldn't just ignore), sleep deprivation that promises to be chronic, etc. etc.

Yesterday my friend Roxanne and I were sitting in my car blasting Joe Purdy (she'd never heard him before. the nerve.), and I realized I feel everything in those songs times about fifty million right now. Which is actually saying a lot, because Joe Purdy is the greatest lyricist I know of, and I never feel disconnected from his songs. But everything in the last two weeks has become heightened. In a lot of ways, ironically, it feels just like being a teen again, when everything was magnified and every interaction under a microscope. I find myself questioning my instincts in a way I haven't done since I was in high school. Maybe this is the universe's way of putting me back into the shoes of the kids I'll be teaching?

In any case, I've still got a long way to go, and it promises to be full of new discoveries.

four to go

2010-06-18T20:56:00.002-06:00

Folks, I'm happy to report that I have survived my first week of training. This may not mean much to you, but I'll just put it this way: practically everyone I know is going to the bar right now to get trashed to deal with the intensity of it all.

I'm in my dorm room after a nice shower, listening to Joe Purdy, and getting ready to watch "Stranger than Fiction" on my laptop. I think it's clear whose logic is more sound. (Read: mine.)

In the last five days, I've done the following:

Written 3 lesson plans.
Met approximately 50 million new people.
Developed 1 wholly inconvenient crush on a particular lad we'll heretofore refer to as America's Golden Boy. (Seriously, people. He's that precious. It's just sick.)
Cried on the phone to Danielle 1 time. Probably many more to come on that front. (Thanks, Danielle.)
Written 2 classroom management/investment plans.
Sat through 20+ sessions on everything from lesson planning, to diversity training, to literacy training, to how to write assessments. (Somehow I still know nothing. Go figure.)
Stared at the roster of my 14 sixth graders I'll be teaching reading to this summer 4 or 5 times. (Still can't wrap my brain around it.)
Wondered approximately 10 times how much of an ass I'll make of myself when I try to say their very Spanish names. (Let's just say this: they'll know I'm white.)
Gotten an approximate average of 5 hours of sleep a night.

In the next five days I will have:

Taught 4 lessons to those 14 sixth graders in a reading class.
Written 5 more lesson plans.
Probably gotten a total of about 10.2 hours of sleep.
Been put on "do not answer" on every family and friend's cell phone so they no longer have to talk to me about teaching 100 times.

I think it's safe to say we're all looking forward to that. Thanks for sticking it out with me.

Happy weekend, people.

lesson plans

2010-06-16T20:48:00.001-06:00

I should be working on my lesson plans right now. I have three. They are due tomorrow. I teach my first 80-minute lesson on MONDAY.

Instead, I am gchatting with Michelle, Krystal and Layton because 1) I like ghcatting with them, 2) I like to be distracted from things I don't want to do by ghcatting with them, and 3) because I feel like it.

Things are going alright around here. I've developed this weird fascination with one of the males in my teaching group. Bad idea. In truth I think it's some sort of combined exhaustion + overwhelmedness + he's pretty + I'm a giant freak + a whole host of other things = my MO

Which further = I need therapy/hobbies/some GD sleep already

The really excellent part is now I'm all teen-girl emotional about it and throwing mental tantrums when he fails to pay equal parts attention to me. (Probably because I'm around middle school pre-teens all day, and they're rubbing off on me?)

Oh, good grief, people. It's getting dire. Fast.

no time

2010-06-14T21:25:00.000-06:00

I want to update you all on all the really ridiculous things that have happened so far, but I have to go to bed like an hour ago.

Because, bear with me, I have to wake up at FIVE A.M.

That inspires a wish for death in the world of me.

I'll try and catch a second soon.

(p.s. thanks to you all for keeping up-to-date and for encouraging me even when we all know I look like a mousy wet dog who is the super awkward Mormon of the group. Seriously. I am. Evidently, I have few social skills when interacting with normal people. Try not to act too surprised by that.)

i have arrived

2010-06-13T14:31:00.003-06:00

After a four-hour drive this morning (make that four and a half; I pulled over into a picnic area for a nap to keep myself from a drowsy driving accident), I have arrived in Houston . . . and look something approximately like this:

But more mousy. And more wet.

The humidity here is utter insanity, I tell you!

I've only just arrived in my dorm room, so it remains to be seen if my soon-to-be roommate for the next five weeks is a total ridiculous twit. Odds lean in favor of that, so fingers crossed I won't want to cut her in her sleep. (Notice: this is all, of course, said in jest. I would smother, not cut, her. It's less messy.)

I'll take a picture when my stuff is here so you can see my quarters. Until then, happy Sabbath to you and yours.

here's the thing

2010-06-11T16:48:00.001-06:00

There is probably some really witty way for me to go about saying this, but I think this time I'll just stick to basics:

I am currently ditching lunch so I can sit on my bed in my (shared) dorm room and cry without 50 million strangers lurking.

I got in trouble twice during our all day-long meetings for doing a crossword puzzle so my brain wouldn't start oozing out my ears whenever one of my highly insightful (white) compatriots pontificated on their view of the horrors of racial inequality they witnessed at their 40k a-year-private school in South Carolina.

Tell me, [idiot], do you really lose sleep at night over this stuff? or did you just read the textbook we all had to read before we got here, word-for-word. My bet's on the latter.

So what I'm saying is I'm in a really horrible mood. And the crying isn't helping. And I sincerely wish I could go into more detail, if it weren't for the public nature of this blog.

The end.

and so it begins

2010-06-09T08:46:00.000-06:00

I have arrived here at TFA and am already overwhelmed to the power of what the HELL did I get myself into?

Therefore, if I have missed/not responded/or otherwise disengaged with you over the last 12-16 hours that is because I have been being bombarded with action items, acronyms and propaganda the likes of which you have never seen. That is to say: I think everything has gone pretty well so far, and I'll get back to you asap. Promise.

Oh, and I have good news for all of you (since I know you're all on the edge of your seats). It turns out I was wrong about my test, and I PASSED! Thank the heavens above, because holy sweet mother Mary and Joseph, I SWEAR that's some sort of fluke, and they're going to send me an email letting me know I actually failed and vomiting is not excuse for the amount of failure they witnessed.

Thank the heavens, everyone. Sorry for the false alarm, but I SWEAR I'll let you know as soon as I get the email letting me know they made a mistake.

food poisoning

2010-06-07T12:07:00.000-06:00

Yep.

Took my test this morning.

Spent more time in the bathroom throwing up then in the room taking my test.

And then failed it (the test).

Soak that in, folks. I'll be in my hotel bed trying not to vomit again.

on the road again (and thank you's)

2010-06-05T21:36:00.000-06:00

There aren't words, people. Really. THERE ARE NO WORDS.

Thank you to all of you who came to my going away party on Thursday, and thank you to those who wanted to come but couldn't, too. I was overwhelmed by how kind and thoughtful all of you were.

I think everyone has that secret fear that they'll throw a party and six people will show up, with three of them being their requisite family members forced into attendance. (I only had six or seven of said family members at my gathering. All in all a success.) Thanks to all of you, I put off that teen-movie nightmare for one more party.

It was the greatest way to set off on what has, admittedly, become a fairly frightening adventure.

And moving on.

As for the journey so far, well . . . I'll just say this: Michelle and I have survived the first leg of our trip. We are now in Albuquerque enjoying (loathing) the 102-degree weather, at 7:30 at night.

And the AC went out in the middle of the New Mexico desert, in 99-degree weather. So, yeah. We have survived. I'll let you know when we make it to Dallas. Hopefully a tire doesn't blow out or something.

party last call

2010-06-03T10:52:00.003-06:00

Hello, everyone. Sorry for my lack of posting. I've been consumed with last day of work + trying to study for my test (read: not studying for my test, and actually avoiding it like the plaque) + getting all my shiz together for the move, etc. etc. All that equals anxiety and no blog posting. So there you go.

Tonight is my going away party. Chances are you've gotten a text, email or an in-person invite from me. If you haven't, it's tonight at 7:30 at my parent's house in Orem. We're having a BBQ and a pinata. Yes. A pinata. I see no other reason for you to come than to get a chance to swing at that.

If you don't know where my house is feel free to leave me a comment or send me a text or something, if you have my number.

I hope to see all of you there!

p.s. Also, a BIG thank you to all my friends at work for throwing me a fantastic pizza party, for all the kind words they wrote on my card, and for this wonderful surprise:

They are the greatest bunch of co-workers a gal could ask for. And it didn't make me tear up or wish I weren't leaving at all. Duh. *sniff sniff

just when i had some semblance of faith in marriage

2010-06-01T13:58:00.003-06:00

I don't know how we'll recover from this one, folks. Al and Tipper were such an example of marital bliss, well into their 30th year, don't you think? I mean, remember this?

Sure, he might have looked like he was strangling her, but what woman doesn't want a man who can publicly humiliate her, AND disregard the clause of your prenuptial aggrement that says you won't to engage in any unscheduled physical contact AT THE SAME TIME?! That man has guts. And I respect that.

I, for one, am shocked. I'll let you know when my faith in monogamy comes back around. Who knows how long it will take me to rebound from this news.

there's a lot going on (and the weekend)

2010-05-28T10:47:00.002-06:00

My absence this week has been due to the following:

1) Panic. Utter panic about the content test I have to take in Dallas, one week from Monday. They're testing me on my knowledge of math, science, social studies and language arts for grades four through eight. Grades I haven't been in for approximately 1.37 billion years.

And, it has been even longer than that since I understood the math we learned then. Basically what I'm saying to you is that I never understood it.

2) Overwhelmedness. I've a lot to read between all the TFA material, extra pedagogy books I've picked up along the way to fill my brain and address the anxiety-produced stomach cramps I've been experiencing.

3) Exhaustion. I've a lot of worries about how things are going to go down once I get to Dallas, Houston, and then back to Dallas. I'm sure you can all imagine what some of them must be, but let's take a closer look, shall we? Here is but a sample:

Will my students hate me? Will I hate them? Will I get my own classroom, or will I have to be one of those vagabond glorified substitutes who has to carry around all her items in one of those rolly back packs? *shudder Will I be a good teacher? Will I actually know what I'm talking about? Will it be obvious that I don't know what I'm talking about? Will I worry too much about my students liking me? Will I worry not enough? Will I get too involved in their personal problems? Will I be too uninvolved in their personal problems? Will I get enough sleep during training? Will I want to procrastinate everything like I do now? Will I pass my content test? Will I sweat bullets during the exam? etc. etc.

It's not so much an acute sense of anxiety at this point so much as it is a chronic, underlying (yet elevated) level of stress that permeates every day. And what this means is that every day is spent going to work, studying for my test, reading for training, going home, watching something mindless on Netflix, reading more for training, going to bed, rinse and repeat. I don't have much available for much else, I suppose, including blogging.

Hopefully next week I'll have something more to offer, including a really fantastic story about the time Lani (a.k.a. Lou) and I conducted a very serious science experiment on Salt Lake's "Gravity Hill." You won't want to miss that.

Happy weekend to you and yours.

(p.s. Details on the going away party next week to follow. Thanks goes out to Danielle for usurpsing the party planning from me! She's a real gem. And, let's just say, there will definitely be a pinata.)

explain this to me

2010-05-25T11:40:00.002-06:00

Friday afternoon I dragged Amanda to the nearest Harmon's to procure some food stuffs for me. Like I've said, my hunger + lack of interest in eating is consuming these days, and she encourages me to move past that. What a friend.

We went in (with me thoroughly anticipating I wouldn't find a single thing I'd be interested in eating [minus a whole sheet of mint brownies, clearly]) and lo and behold, what glory was in front of our eyes: A SALAD BAR.

I was so happy about it. Ask Amanda. Things were getting desperate and my hunger-induced nausea was on the full frontal.

Salad is one of those few items I can't regularly gorge myself on, mainly because you can't buy good ranch from a grocery store that's watered down like a restaurant's. Ergo, somehow it's remained untainted in my pillaging of every available and convenient lunch-time food.

Twelve dollars later (yep.), and several very engaging conversations about the People magazine left in the cafe area, and we walked out to the car to head back to work.

And found this:

No words. Except to say that my car isn't the one on the left.

(I'd like you to take special note of the fact that there's a total of 10.02 inches between her passenger door and my driver's door. Which is really lucky, if you think about it, because had I eaten one more roll from the deli counter I probably never would've squeezed in.)

"Uhhh...," we both said, as the culprit who dared deem this an appropriate parking job got out of her car and proceeded to walk into the store. Me, being me (and also being someone who never passes up an opportunity to be ridiculous and slightly offensive) began saying, in a loud-enough voice: "Is this happening? Is this real? This is the worst parking job I've ever seen! I kid you not, I've never seen a worse parking job in the history of my entire life."

So Amanda suggested we take a picture.

Here is the car after we'd pulled out. (and, yes, I did stop in the middle of the lane to take a picture of the culprit.)

This person must be stopped.

(Also, please take note that everything weird that has happened to me in the last few months has, evidently, happened in grocery store parking lots. I have no explanation for this.)

save the date (and the weekend)

2010-05-21T11:37:00.002-06:00

I know all of you are horribly popular and sought after, so let me put in my reservation for your company.

Thursday, June 3rd I'm throwing myself a farewell party. It promises to be everything you've ever dreamed of, including (but not limited to): copious amounts of food, raucous laughter, a noticeable absence of cheesy get-together games, a noticeable inclusion of every cool person I've ever met in one location, and also there will be food there. (Is it wrong that I know exactly what draws people to these things?)

Basically what I'm telling you is that you ought to cancel any plans you have for that night. That whole night. Because your attendance is required if you want to show me you love me and give a lick about me moving away to the ghetto for two years (*and cue some manipulation; that never hurts).

More info to come.

This weekend I'll be at home reading and reading and reading for TFA, studying for my content test, hanging out with Krystal and Danielle (if all goes well) and generally trying to soak up any remaining hours of idleness I have left ahead of me.

I suggest you do the same (about the idleness part).

have you seen (heard) this?

2010-05-20T10:42:00.002-06:00

If you're spending a lot of your spare time watching television, like me, then you've probably seen those hazy, glowy, doe-eyed and fresh-faced commercials from Sun Chips advertising their new, 100% compostable bags.

And who, I ask you, can't get behind THAT? I feel warm and glowy inside just watching the fabricated family clad in white linen and khaki frolick through wheat fields in the evening. Advertisers know their shit.

At any rate. Em and I were shopping last night when she picked up a bag of said Sun Chips (and their 100% compostable bag) and put them under her arm. And, people. People. I kid you not. I have never heard a louder thing in my life. It was like she picked up the bag and it created some black hole of noise where no other sound in the universe existed but the pervasive crinkling it was exuding.

It was so loud, I immediately proceeded to touch every bag of Sun Chips in the aisle to display just how loud their combined crinkling was, all while screeching to Emiley (who was not two steps from me), "DO YOU HEAR HOW LOUD THIS IS?! THIS BAG IS SOOOO LOUD!!! THIS IS THE LOUDEST BAG EVER! CAN YOU HEAR HOW LOOUUUDDD THIS BAG IS IS?! EM, CAN YOU HEAR THIS?!"

The excessively loud culprit.

She could hear it.

As we walked to the car, I had a genius thought: how could we test just how loud this bag really is? I said, "Emiley, I'll crinkle this bag while you walk away from me until you can't hear it anymore." Naturally, I thought, she'd never go along with this. I mean, why would someone be so consumed with the loudness of a crinkling bag of chips to perform such an experiment?

"Okay," she said, and immediately started walking away. She got all the way across the parking lot and nearly to the street when a set of sprinklers deterred her from going farther . . . but she could still hear it. (Also, imagine you saw two relatively normal looking 20-somethings in a grocery store parking lot, one holding a bag of chips and crinkling it excessively and the other walking away toward sprinklers, all while the two of them are laughing and screaming, "CAN YOU STILL HEAR ITTTT?!" at each other. We do all of this for science.)

When we got home, we reversed our experiment (you know, to account for outlying variables and standard error and what not) and this time she crinkled the bag while I walked away. I got all the way down the block and was about to cross the street when I realized the farther I walked away the farther I'd have to walk back (my dedication to science can only take me so far), so I turned around. But, I could still hear it.

So what I'm saying is, no one here will judge you if you spend 10 minutes crinkling the Sun Chips in the chip aisle at the store because your mind is blown at how loud those bags are. That's what I'm saying.

near-death experience

2010-05-18T22:27:00.002-06:00

I'd like to take a moment from my normal anxiety-ridden posts about TFA, to bring you this story (by request of Amanda):

I hate eating these days.

I know. I know. Imagine me saying something along the lines of I can't help that I'm so petite! I just have a small appetite! Also, I'm way better than you, and I'm thin and pretty. Once you've done that, I figure you'll have more room for hearing me out, because that's totally not what I mean.

So like I was saying, I hate eating. I find it tiresome. I find it menial. I find it altogether useless. Granted, I haven't always been this way. There was once a time (when I lived with Brooke and Em) when I could hold my own and then some at devouring an entire Costa Vida salad, tortilla and all—and then had to be informed the aluminum container wasn't meant for human consumption. (Sometimes we have to be reminded of these things, so I'd rather you didn't hold it against me.)

But the last six months or so have been a tug-of-war battle between me and my stomach over how long I can hold out before eating something. And it's not even that I don't like food. I love food! Food is my world! But it's a giant hassle when you're well known to gorge yourself on the latest food de jour only to then never want to see the sight of that item ever again (corn dogs, microwave burritos, anything made by Lean Cuisine [or ConAgra Foods in its entirety, for that matter], macaroni and cheese, etc. etc.). This limits your options. As does carpooling to work and not working anywhere near any decent options that you haven't searched for food at about 50 million times already.

So what's my solution? Slim Fast shakes, of course, which has always served me well enough—at least in working to shut my stomach up until 11:30 when I can justify starting on lunch. Well enough, that is, until today.

Here's the (rough) breakdown of what happened:

7:30 - arrive at work, speedily head to office break room to retrieve the shake I'd stowed in the refridgerator the day prior
7:31 - nearly faint at the odor-induced nausea that results from opening the fridge door
7:33 - get back to my desk
7:33.04 - open can of Slim Fast
7:33.05 - leave can of Slim Fast on desk while I get up the nerve to eat it
7:35 - raise can of Slim Fast to my mouth, prepared to take a giant gulp so as to expedite the process of shutting my stomach up
7:35.01 - smell a strangely familiar, and strikingly atrocious odor
7:35.02 - realize the inevitable too late
7:35.03 - take a giant gulp of rotten, sour, whathaveyou rich chocolate royale Slim Fast
7:35.032 – Present - proceed to dry heave for the remainder of the day, and generally wish for death and/or speedy expulsion of the contents of my stomach [note: it never happens]

The moral of the story is this: you're better off not eating than drinking a rotten Slim Fast. (And you can thank Amanda for inspiring me to offer you that wisdom.)

very large headache + exhuastion

2010-05-17T14:13:00.001-06:00

People, we've got problems here.

Problems, problems.

Problems in the form of me being utterly exhausted. Physically exhausted, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Tired. Sleepy. Lethargic. What I'm telling you is that I'm exhausted.

Problems in the form of anxiety. Anxiety about failing as a teacher, about having mean students, about being shorter than 95% of the student body, about moving to a new state, about forcing myself to make friends and talk to strangers when I really don't anticipate wanting to, about studying for my content exam (in three weeks!) and not failing it, about finding a hotel to stay at in Dallas that won't make me bleed money, at feeling wholly unprepared and unsure of what's ahead of me.

Problems in the form of laziness. Laziness when it comes to exercising (I've done none of it), eating (I hate it and find it to be utterly useless), studying, generally moving my body in any way shape or form.

Problems in the form of denial. Let's just put it this way: I haven't cried once in like three weeks, even though I've pretty much felt like crying every one of those days. Oh, mercy.

What I'm saying, friends, is that things will get batshit crazy around here sooner rather than later. Consider yourselves warned, I guess?

chipmunk cheeks (and the weekend)

2010-05-14T09:35:00.005-06:00

I spent yesterday day working from home (glorious!) and the afternoon in the dentist's chair (not so glorious). This morning I woke up with my whole left side of my face swollen and reminicent of a run-in with some sort of tool and my wisdom teeth, or my jaw, or my entire face.

I'm looking forward to a yellow-then a greenish-then black bruise. I think the odds are slim, but it's been a life-long dream of mine to have some sort of black bruise on my face, and this seems a good a time as any for one. Obviously I'd prefer to procure one without violence, so getting one from the dentist would be win-win. Except that, technically, I would have paid for the bruise, which might just be one step above utterly pathetic. Sixes. Let's move on.

This weekend I'm hanging out with Emiley and going to a Bee's game with Krystal, Danielle and Michael. I'm going to try in earnest not to let my inability to open my mouth more than 5 inches get in the way of eating copious amounts of truly awful food. And, also, if the three of them aren't totally embarrassed by my gregarious sports-fan-like behavior by the end of the night, then I'll consider the venture a total failure. Lucky them.

Also, I will be reading and reading and reading and reading for TFA. And also managing my anxiety level about the whole "the majority of everything I've ever known my life to be is going to change in three weeks" thing. Good luck to me, and good luck to you and yours.

Happy weekend.

thin rope

2010-05-12T11:33:00.001-06:00

Folks, we're coming up on 24 days before I head out to the great state of Texas, and more specifically, to Big-D. (which I've decided to start referring to Dallas as, as evidently that's what the locals call it, and I am always overly interested in looking/sounding like the biggest tool I possibly can. It's a personal quest of mine.)(I dream big.)

For your convenience, I've taken the liberty of writing up a quick list of all the things I need to accomplish before then (and a rough estimate of the amount of time each task will require):

1. Read all of my TFA pre-institute materials (80 billion years)
2. Understand and absorb even 15% of my TFA pre-institute materials (infinity)
3. Spend time with friends and family before I go (time needed expanding expontentially as I realize the reality of my moving situation)
4. Manage my anxiety about teaching pre-pubsescent teens. (double infinity)
5. Finish all my projects and time up lose ends at work. (I can't even address this)
6. Convince Russell (a.k.a. Twiggy) (a.k.a. my father) to let me own some chickens. (this may take lifetimes)

I've got a lot ahead of me.

My apologies if my scrambled eggs for brains negatively impacts you in anyway. I feel as though this is inevitable.

wherein you all witness what a fool i'm willing to make of myself

2010-05-10T14:42:00.002-06:00

As promised, here is what I pulled together for Em's birthday present (which I gave to her only about a week and a half later. sixes.)

Here is the full preview. [Update: Just kidding. Go to the links in the comments section to see the project. The internets hate me.]

And no, I'm fairly certain my lack of shame knows no bounds. But I'm telling myself this what you like about me.

maintenance (and the weekend)

2010-05-07T13:31:00.007-06:00

In one of my many, many work meetings this week, my boss said something I haven't been able to stop thinking about: that everything in life in maintenance. That brushing your teeth, getting enough sleep, paying your bills, keeping in touch with friends . . . all maintenance.

I'd never heard anyone put it quite that way, and the phrasing struck me as sort of brilliant. If only because seeing these mundane tasks as elements of a greater, not as mundane whole makes me feel less like punching someone's lights out when I look at the interest I'm paying on my car loan. My apologies if I've punched your lights out for this reason. Or for any other.

In any case, there's a lot I have to do in life maintenance wise: daily (sometimes even hourly) check ups on my emotional state, periodic go-overs of my current level of bitchiness, maintaining a certain amount of sleep so as to not lose my freaking mind, eating every 30 or so minutes so as to not lose my freaking mind, etc. There's a lot of upkeep involved, and sometimes this can be quite exhausting. I often tell people my life over the last year has been nothing if not an intense education in living elementally, breaking everything down into the basic equation of survival.

For example, this is the kind of thought process that runs through my mind on a (nearly) daily basis:

I seem to be upset. Why am I upset? Did something happen? Did I think about something that made me mad/nervous/tired/depressed/discouraged? Was that thought based on logic? What was illogical about what I thought? Have I eaten lately? What did I eat? Am I hungry again? Am I tired? What time did I go to bed last night? Did I sleep well? Did I get enough sleep? Has something been on my mind lately? Am I worried about something? Is this something that's been on my mind/I'm worried about something I can actually control? Is this something I cannot control? Is there someone I can/should talk to about this? Is there a pill I can take for this? (joke.) Have I eaten? Is there something I can eat for this?

This sounds like a lot, I'm sure, but it is (quite literally, and not representative of my usual sense of hyperbole) really what I have to do multiple times a day, some days. It's a lot of maintenance. It takes a lot out of the time I would rather dedicate to whittling prosthetic limbs for war veterans and curing cancer. But it is what it is, right? (And that's what people say when they realize no one wants to keep talking to them about their problems anymore.)

Is there a point to me telling you this? Not really. Except to say that I've been in a self-induced, worry-filled, sometimes anxiety-ridden funk the last two days wherein I've allowed myself (for the first, real time) to consider if TFA is really something I can hack. If I can walk into a classroom of hormone-filled, pre-pubescent teens and tell them who's boss. I mean, of course, I'll tell them who's boss, but what I'm saying is they might just laugh at me and spew spitballs in my face. If I can rise above spending half my energy on maintenance and put it toward helping kids, I don't know, read.

But it's the weekend. So on that high note, I'll leave you, my friends, to your own devices, and it might be best if everyone left me to mine. Heaven knows Netflix and I will be fast friends this weekend, as I'm wont for distraction. And I don't know why old memories are haunting me today, but they really are. (read: Bob.) Howaboutyoujustgoaway! (that's me talking to them.)

Anyway . . . awkward.

Regards to you and yours.