Wanna know a secret?

One that nobody else knows, not even Robert?

This is the first time I've ever voted for President.

I've been registered to vote for many years, and I've even voted several times, but I've always managed to forget, or be out of town, or cock it up somehow during presidential election years. Barack Obama has officially popped my presidential voting cherry.

Don't get me wrong; I have not always been a fan. At first, during primary season, I had serious reservations. I didn't buy it: the rhetoric, the idealism, the earnestness. It simply didn't matter what I thought, because I'm a registered independent, and we don't vote in primaries in CO. As the primaries wore on, though, I began to realize that Hillary Clinton was, in fact, a robot space alien fembot from planet Zorgon, and I began to root inwardly for this seemingly honest, articulate man from Chicagah. Then he won.

Remember when Lindsay Lohan was fun and cute? And acted in fun, cute movies? Funly? and Cutely? When did that change? When did she turn into the lesbian-of-convenience that we see before us now? I would argue that it was when made the cardinal foolish mistake of celebrity: believing your own publicist. Having a publicist is not a terrible idea; I wish I could afford somebody to go around and nudge public opinion in my direction, spinning things my way. But I would remain aware that I was paying this person, and their comments might not be entirely neutral. The second a celebrity forgets that, I believe they turn into Lindsay Lohan. that is what it seemed happened to Barack Obama after the primaries.

When he made some fool comments supporting the death penalty I brushed it off. But he started to seem too . . . slick? Too used-car salesman? I'm not sure how to put it. When he started rhetoricising the war in Iraq, couching his opposition in the need to put more troops in Afghanitan instead, I gave him a mulligan. You see, unlike some who use the name, I am truly pro-life. I oppose the death penalty. Life is sacred, all life, and it is not up to us to take it away. I am against all war, not just the idiot war that Crazy McCuckoobananas has gotten us into currently. War and killing are either wrong, or they aren't. This seemed to put me at some cross purposes with Barack Obama. Then, he made an appearance at Jesus Camp with McCain and The Purpose Driven Hobbit. "Marriage is between one man and one woman", he said. I felt like such an idiot. I had bought a lemon, just another smooth talking politician who will do anything to get elected, a Hillary Clinton, only better at it. So much for Democracy and idealism.

Lately, I have come down from that ledge a little bit. I considered voting for a third party candidate, but whom? Barr is ludicrous, Nader is irrelevant, and McKinney is immature. It has also helped that McCain has proven himself to be a senile, hot-tempered lunatic. This is not an invention of the press; it is recorded fact. Look at the video of him losing his marbles at the craps table and assaulting some random civilian. Read the account of him calling his wife a CUNT in front of reporters (imagine how he treats her when nobody's around). These are things the media doesn't even cover, possibly because it is would be impossible to be objective. Ultimately, look at the corrupt imbecile whom he has chosen for running mate.

At the same time, I have cooled down a little about Obama. His lucid and rational statements during the most recent debate have let me feel just a little more comfortable about voting for him, and at any rate it is a done deal now. The ballot is in the Colorado Election Comission's box, waiting to be counted. I suppose I can live with not getting married until someone a little more courageous comes along.

You guys alive?

Do we still write on here? I had this insane realization today that we actually have a blog together. I guess this is what happens when we all have lives. Vaisey, I hope your grandparents was just lovely with your long weekend. B, I enjoyed our convo while I was on the treadmill the other day (although everyone else around me prolly didn't).

Anyway, what's new with my life? Hard to say. Nothing really. Ummm...Jordan and I haven't talked for like 4 days. This is a big deal...almost a wonderfully big deal. Actually, it's not really a big deal at all. It's actually rather stupid that this comment even warrants the energy it takes me to push my fingers over the keys. I know I told you this B, but I have completely realized that God will never bring me the man that I deserve until I learn how to say no to the man that I don't. Whatever, this whole conversation is so overrated.

School is great. My sophomore are about to finish King Lear, and they'll be writing their first in-class essays on Friday. We start the Bible next...that should be interesting. My freshmen are creating their own epic heroes right now and writing their own epics. It's been interesting, but good. I "rented" out the computer lab all next week (we have 1/2 days everyday for parent-teacher conferences), and we're gonna go over MLA format and all that boring crap. Anyway, I just miss you guys and I wanted to know you still existed. I'm sorry this isn't more thoughtful or provoking. My mind is pretty much shot. I sat down on Sunday, waking up already feeling like crap, anticipating something close to a 4-page paper...it ended up as 11...second one in 7 weeks in a 100-level course. It's gonna be so great in December when I get my professional teaching license in the mail from the state of Colorado and it doesn't mean crap.

Oh...on a lighter note, I have offically been asked to prom like 47 times from the same boy. He's a junior. I'm his advisor in this 30-minute college prep class we have every two weeks, and his third period is next to mine. Today, he resorted to sending me love notes through the divider in the wall, and he made paper flowers for me. It's slightly hilarious, but, I mean, what do you do? I know he's joking, but he seriously just leaves his 3rd period and will come sit in my class...all of a sudden I'll look over, and I'm like, what the heck just happened? The teacher next to me isn't so bright...word on the street. Anyway, why don't guys my age act like that?

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Ugh.

I just felt the need to inform you both that I just wrote a 12 PAGE PAPER...in a 100-level class! An entire synopsis on the final week of Jesus' life...interesting topic...but, seriously?! I wrote one 10-page paper in college...ONE...in a 300-level coaching class (no bibliography). I had to write in APA style (a.k.a. hell) with an ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHY. It took me EIGHT HOURS! Okay, I think I just highlighted the main points. Sorry, I needed to complain to someone and my dog is the only one listening.

I haven't graded a darn thing...

I don't want the weekend to end...

I have 10 papers left to grade...praise God! One more essay to write, which I have spent the last hour outlining. School is kicking my ass right now. I feel like my teachers just decided to kick it up a notch since I'm officially in week 4...over halfway through my first two classes (and $5000 in debt). Pretty cool, huh? Plus...I have yet to receive a paycheck. We get paid on the last day of the month...Monday cannot get here soon enough.

Anyway, I don't know what else to say. I went on a 10-mile hike today with my dogs. It was lovely...I forced myself to get out of the house and step away from school stuff (if there's one thing I learned in the first two years it's that not taking a break may seem beneficial, but it will kill us in the end). It was beautiful...and no sprained ankles this time. My dogs were ecstatic.

Ummm...Jordan is still totally retarded. We're still talking everyday...not that my love life (or lack their of) really excites either of you anymore. Who knows. I did get the phone number from my high school friend in Seattle. We dated my freshman year when we was a junior...ha. We're going to try and get together in two weeks (since I'm chaperoning Homecoming next week...double ha). We've been talking like everyday for the last two weeks though...weird. Do you think that you ever completely lose feelings for someone you cared about? And are you still into the person that they were, or they person that they are? Or maybe it's both...and that's the beauty of it? I just need to see a familiar face. Plus, he is honestly one of the funniest people I know (after you two peaches, of course). Weird. I dunno. I don't even know what I'm saying, why I'm saying it, or if I'm even making sense. I'm an inferring something in this post? Brandon, you would know...you are now the king of reading strategies, I guess.

Okay, I have to sleep. My eyes are closing and I got church in the AM. Write back soon. Toodle-ooh!

Ugh...Grading....

So, it's been a while since I've posted. I really don't have much to say that you don't already know, but I feel like sharing. And, I feel like procrastinating. I don't want to grade papers, which is crazy, since I took the day off to do it and I've yet to look at one. Oh well. I digress.

Tomorrow is my first true professional development day at Cactus Shadows, and it looks about as boring as all of the others I've been to. First, I'm in a department meeting for 3 hours to talk about honors class, which I will never teach. I'm going to grade and I don't care what they say.
Then, in the afternoon, I'm supposed to go to a meeting to learn about something. Oh...how thrilling.

So, I'm officially behind. I have about 300 papers to grade this week, and I don't want to even look at them. I feel so lethargic. I think my allergies are worse here, seriously. Who would have thought in the desert, but they're bad. I also think that my asthma is getting worse. This morning I could barely catch my breath. It sucks. I'm going to have to go to the doctor, but it'll have to be when I get paid.

And...I have to officially become a member of the state of Arizona. Ugh. I hate it. I have to get my plates and a new drivers license that won't expire for 50 years. For real. (I'm pretty sure it's 50 years, it's crazy.) I'll be 74. You think my appearance might change? Whatever. It's going to cost a shit ton of money and we need Brandon's GI Bill in order to pay for it, which you never know when it's coming, but I need it by the 30th. How cool is that. Anyway, life is crazy here. I keep finding bugs in my apartment and I'm having it sprayed on Tuesday. Oh...the joy of the desert.

One other interesting thing:

Not that you guys are reading any of this. Pbbblt.

Last night the principal held a mediation between one of the night teachers and his students. The guy had a class from hell, and the Principal actually held a mediation. That's cool, and a little intimidating, because we're a charter school. If the students don't like the teachers, they leave, and we eat pork and beans. If this mediation doesn't work out, that teacher is likely to be the one gone . . .

Two thing/ks

I haven't had a professional eval yet this year, but there is an instructional coach in the district, and I kinda like her, so I asked her to sit in on what I thought was going to be a really cool class. This jinxed it, I guess, because they were MONSTERS! I didn't get shit done, and I was mortified. I was certain she thought I was the worst teacher in the world. We talked the usual teacher speak about reflecting o n the lesson and what to different next time, but I was just convinced inmy mind that I was shit for teacher, and I should go kill myself right now before this school also decides to fire me. BTW, I know you guys probably wonder where this inadequacy complex comes from? Probably from getting FIRED.

So I decide not to kill myself after eating my feelings a little. A lot. And I go to an inservice later in the week. Allfour campuses of this charter school meet once a month on a Friday for PD, and this week the theme was pre-reading strategies. Sarah, who witnessed me crash and burn, is conducting the PD, so I am reminded of the huge suck that is me, until I read the PD schedule for the year as it is passed out. I notice that next month, under during reading strategies, she has listed at least four of my active reading techniques, things that I invented myself. I had talked to her about them, and she had seen me teaching one of them, so I asked her, "You stole my shit, didn't you?"

"Sure did. It's good shit. You're a good teacher. Everybody has days like that."

Huh.

And secondly,

We went to the Denver Art Museum, Robert and I and our friend Marcus, who later that night asked us in a drunken haze whether we wanted to have a threesome, to which we gave a resounding no--there's one friendship that is now pretty awkward, but I digress. There's a statue on the fourth floor of the Hamilton building that I find just fascinating. It's not really anything special, just your typical nude cut in marble with an unrealisticly sized wang. I stare at it for a minute, as one does with art if one has any class at all. Robert comes up behind me and says, "PP, it's you!"

"Don't be ridiculous." I reply. "Mine's not that big."

"No, PP. I mean the leg" I look down. The statue only has one leg, and its stump is shaped just like mine. I didn't even notice.

My aunt asked me yesterday if I have adjusted to living in Denver, and I am still not sure how to respond. I don't even think to ask the question of myself. The whole idea of "How am I doing in this strange city?" or even, "How is life here different?" doesn't occur to me. I live where I live. Things are as they are. I have one leg. How have I adjusted? Funny, I don't remember adjusting.

Random Shit...I Think...

I felt the need to get onto this crazy thing and post even though I, literally, have no time for it. I woke up at 10 today, graded 3 papers, wrote two essays, and then graded 7 more papers, which brought me up to a whopping 8:30 PM (I think I ate something once or twice, and oh yea, I might have gone to the bathroom). So, I decided to go play in my soccer game at 9. I needed a break. Now, I'm back at home, chuggin away on some Beowulf analysis papers, which makes for a peachy Saturday evening (actually, I take that back, Sunday morning now). I would have gotten home sooner, but I play with some older siblings of my basketball girls and their parents were there, and they know how to talk an ear off...that is for sure. But, I can't really complain, they love me. I went from being absolutely despised by parents to being the greatest thing that ever happened to them. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

My first week of classes were awesome. My freshmen are finally starting to liven up...thank God. They're surprisingly obedient though (but yes, I'm waiting for the breakdown). I have basically come to the conclusion that I will never assign homework because I don't have time to grade it, and I also trick them into writing. We do "Free Writes" for the first 15 minutes of class everyday. I give a topic, but they don't have to write about it. So, they have countless stories, which I will never look at, but then they are going to pick one to take through the drafting phase. Oh, my excitement. I must say though, that I'm just not sure what they learned in middle school. We are going to read "The Utterly Perfect Murder" on Monday, and they hardly knew what I meant by using the term "conflict" (and they were clueless when I said the words external and internal)...seriously? I tell them to "Show, not tell" in their writing, and it's like I'm speaking another language. I don't think I'm amazing, but we've been writing for a week and their already 10 times better than where they started (every day 2 people must share what they wrote to the class). I know, it was summer...they forget, well...everything...but, you bet your ass my kids walked into high school with "Show, don't tell" tattooed on their brains. I must get over this, I know.

I feel like my advanced sophomores are done an injustice. We read all these books, and all the writing in the class is so utterly tedious and academic. So, I make them do the same damn free writes...and they love it. I want them to still appreciate what writing can do. Is this wrong? I feel like my co-teacher is so strict, but yet my principal hired me because I voiced how passionate I was about making good writers (and making them respect what writing can do). Whatever.

Well, it's back to the books...and the papers. PS, I'm totally into my "Bible" classes right now, actually. I feel like God is preparing me for something, but I just don't know what yet. It's like too many things have gone "wrong" for it not to mean something. I mean, seriously, my plate is beyond full right now...but I'm surviving...just as we always do.

It's probably worth taking the briefest of moments, since I can't sleep anyway, to describe something pretty cool about my school.

For the most part, I'm not really able to brag about my kids in the way you can, Steph. Many of them mean well, yes, and some of their abilities are even acceptable, but I can't count on them to buy in to anything we do in class. For the most part, I have to trick them into learning. One of the more well meaning kids today even asked me, "When are we going to be writing essays and stuff?" I smiled, because they all had half an essay on their papers already. They were just used to somebody telling them, "Write an essay", and I had tricked them into it. Muahahaha!

But there is one kid for whom this just wasn't working. In a regular school, Natalie would be in honors classes--not for her hard work or her natural ability, but for both. This technique of mine was driving her batty. The frustration on her face when we do things like grammar dice or whatever was piercing, and she really deserved something better. This is where I became really impressed with my school.

I took her aside after class last week and visited the principal with her. I explained the situation, and asked Rhett if we could do an independent study. That's right, an independent study. It blew my mind when he said yes. I now meet with her for a half an hour after school twice a week and give her reading and writing assignments that she simply does on her own. At our first meeting last Thursday, I asked what she liked to read, trying to decide what kind of class we wanted it to be, and she said her favorite book was Rain of Gold by Victor Villasenor. We talked about that book--which I have read and enjoyed--and decided that if she liked that, she should read A Hundred Years of Solitude. Seriously. She is reading AHOS for the next two weeks, and doing projects about it as we go. This is seriously the greatest event of my life right now. AHOS is like one of the greatest books ever written, and I would never get to teach it in a high school class, even in an honors class, because it is soo looong. And she says it's only going to take her two weeks, after which I think I'm going to have her read Fateless by Imre Kertesz. If I wasn't a lazy writer, I would go back and add the fact that we decided to make it a Multicultural Lit class in the part where that information belongs, but meh.

Columbia River

This school bleeds purple and gold. I feel absolutely awful for gloating, but these kids are wonderful. I put my kids into home groups (accountability groups) and we went over group norms and I had them act out all 10 "skills" (10 groups, so 1 per group) and then every student wrote them in his/her notebook and signed the bottom, saying that they would promise to work hard to abide by all of these norms within their groups and within the classroom. It was fabulous. The greatest part was when I told them that they could get out their cell phones (the one and only time I would ever say this) to exchange phone numbers and e-mails in case of absences or questions about assignments, and the principal walked in with literally every cell phone raised in the air. It was fabulous. I about died. I feel like I've told this story...did I post this? Maybe I'm just losing my mind. PS...I'm owning my online classes. My professor made me group leader of team #1 today...how utterly exciting.

Anyway, my sophomores start Socratic discussions over Beowulf on Monday and Tuesday. I've had to split them into two groups (the first group will go on Monday, and each student within the inner-circle will have a student taking notes on his/comments from the outer circle...then, they switch the following day with new questions...supposedly, this helps with grading, says my co-teacher). Plus, my classes are HUGE. I have at least 32 kids in every class...and my last class of the day...freshmen (blah)...I have 35! Thank God it's not my first year teaching...I'd be in hell. Needless to say, the room is tight, but we make it work. I set an example with one girl in the second day, and everything has been pretty smooth sailing. Did I do that? Am I actually becoming a better teacher?

Anyway, I went to the football game on Friday at my school...first home game. I had to park 5 blocks away. Yea, insanity...and the student section stood for the entire game. Needless to say, we won. I guess we're pretty good. The spirit that emcompasses this school absolutely amazes me. Sorry...gloating. And my AP and Principal have already stopped by my room during instruction time to just to poke their heads in and say hi. I didn't even know I had a principal in my last school with how much he didn't exist.

Consensus: Online school...sucks; life in general...okay. Bring on basketball season.

I admit it: I was a pretty unsuccessful class sponsor last year. I had great ideas, but somehow I just couldn't get the sophomores off of their asses. I don't feel too bad about i t; my replacement seems to be having even less success. But I still feel like the kids I taught for two years--as freshmen and again as sophomores--deserved a better prom than the measly five hundred dollars we raised could buy.

Recall that I am rolling in dough, and it just keeps getting better. I went to get my prescription yesterday, and it was only ten dollars instead of fifty. Evidently it's available as a generic now. that's another extra forty dollars a month. Who better to spend it on than the now Junior class at Sierra High School in Colorado Springs?

Always the teacher, I decided to make it a matching grant. I wrote them a check for 250 dollars, but they don't get it until they raise $250 of their own. I met with Cale Szysomething,whom you might remember, and who is now their class sponsor, and is now evidently shtupping Megan McDaniel, whom you also may remember. I had to walk by Megan's room to see him, and there was instant hullabaloo when the kids in her room saw me. "Mr. Payne!", came the chorus of instant disruption. The odd part? Megan looked like she was about to cry. She missed me that much, I guess. I gave her a hug, at which the kids of course went "Oooooh! I knew it!". Little did they know she was putting the bloom on the rose of the guy in the room next door.

As I left, I ran into Jodi, who evidently has my students as juniors. "I've been meaning to talk to you!" she yelled, startling me a bit. "What did you do to those kids?"

"errrr . . ."

"They are the most well prepared kids in the whole class! They know more than my seniors! 'Mr. Payne taught us this already,' they say, and they're right. Sentence structure, grammar, the whole shit. They know it already. And what's more, they add 'I don't know how we know it either. all we did was play games in his class . . .'"

grin.

Oh my God...is that what I think it is?

So, last week, I was walking from the main campus to my classroom on the East campus. It was fairly late (4:30ish--and school is out at 2:22) and I came to the gate, which was locked. I've heard a bunch of teachers from the East campus talk about how their keys don't work in the gate, so I assume the same thing. I start to walk further up this road, because there is a car gate, and I can't remember how it's shut. So, as I near the gate, all of a sudden I hear a rustle in the weeds by me. And...to my dismay...a bobcat pops out and runs. Yes, you read that right...a bobcat! So, I start walking back to the gate, the whole time thinking, Is that a Bobcat? I'm pretty sure it is. I've only seen them at the zoo. Yes, that is totally a bobcat. Oh my God, my heart is pounding. Meanwhile, the bobcat sits by the trashcan staring me down. Freaky. So, I reach the gate, and decide to try my key. It works...miracle. So, I walk in, all the time looking at the bobcat, but I can't re-lock the gate without turning away. As I do, it disappears. I walk super rapidly to my classroom, freaking out that I'm being stalked by a bobcat. I get to my class, gather my things, and call my mom, so I have someone on the phone in case I'm attacked and killed by a bobcat outside of my door.

The next day, I go to school, still a little freaked out about the bobcat. As I open my door to my classroom (remember, we have walkways outside, not halls) what is there at the threshold but a dying lizard. No joke. Guts strewn about on the floor, but still breathing. Of course, I'm super girly. I can't apologize for it...it's who I am...I've grown a lot and can kill spiders now, but I cannot pick up a dying lizard to throw outside. I ask my 2 boy students who are there, and both say "no." Sadly, I'm stuck with the girly boys. Anyway, one of my girl students (Bianca...I only mention because I always think of Blanca from Street Fighter when I see her name...anyway, I digress) picks up the dying lizard while saying "You're all a bunch of girls," and throws it away in my trash. Now, usually, I'd have her throw it outside, but it was all too fast and I couldn't ask her to pull the dead thing out of the trashcan.

Anyway, I have this dying lizard in my trashcan (by the door...complete opposite part of the room from my desk, thankfully). I start to tell my first period class about the bobcat and the dying lizard, and about 1 minute into it, I feel something crawl on my arm. Usually, I might remain calm, but remember I'm in the midst of the story and still have those things fresh on my mind. I immediately freak out...jumping and making noises and throwing my hands about...normal Jervaise freak-out mode. Anyway, turns out it was a bee, who lands on my poster. I eventually swat him out into nature, where he belongs. My students are hysterically laughing and it is crazy...my heart was racing for like 20 minutes.

It's been a week, and I still haven't seen the bobcat again, or had a dying lizard by my door, or a bee land and walk on me. I remain hopeful that these three instances were the end...but probably not...why again do I teach in the desert?

On another note...Brandon saw a gecko in our apartment about 2 weeks ago. Oh goodness. I'll freak out if there is one in here when I'm cleaning.

It could always be worse...

1. I started my online classes today. I have a 500-750 word essay due every week about the history of the New Testament (which has required a day's worth of research about the Old Testament to even understand what's going on). I must also post a 1/4 page response to a discussion question every week, while also responsding to two other classmate's comments. Everything must be done in APA style format...I am an ENGLISH major...I operate in MLA. APA is the dumbest thing I have ever seen...EVER! WTF?!?!

2. I have like 200 pages of reading to do for the first essay, which will be due by Sunday. PS...my books aren't here yet...I finally got my class schedule figured out on Friday.

3. This is only ONE class mind you. The other class I'm SUPPOSED to be in, my advisor disenrolled me from, as opposed to enrolling me for a sooner date, which means that I officially missed the first assignment to post a biography in the "Cyber Cafe" (sounds marvelous, huh?).

4. I have 8 pages of class transfer forms to fill out since they're not accepting any of my credits. Do you think I have a syllabus from the American Government class I took my sophomore year of college in Grand Junction? Not so much.

5. My laptop just broke down...yea, black screen, not-turning-on broke down. I called customer support. Nothing worked. And, oh, guess what? There is the added bonus that the one year warranty expired FOUR DAYS AGO! Needless to say, I have to call back during "business hours" tomorrow.

6. I NOW WORK DURING BUSINESS HOURS!

Salmagundi

I normally wait to blog until I have something narrative or thematic to say, but I'm feeling pretty miscellaneous right now.

Robert and I liveblogged Hillary's speech together yesterday. It's things like that for which I love him, seriously. He's' so smart and epigrammatic and aphoristic and handsome and affectionate. It's at personalbibliography.blogspot.com. Afterward, we unpacked our joint journal and started writing in it. I call it the Dorkronomicon, but Robert prefers Untitled. The entry was simply, "Robert is a gaytheist. Brandon is a fagnostic."

I feel a little spacey at school this week. The kids are really lethargic and uninterested, and it takes soooo much energy to be crazy and pumped up so they get engaged. I thought it was just me, and I felt like shit for teacher, but the other teachers in the building cincurred, so I felt better. I even talked to my homey Belinda, who teaches English in Widefield, and she said the kids were the same there. Maybe it's a global phenomenon. Jervaise?

I'm pretty fucking pissed at Obama. It's bad enough that he made some dumbass statements about the death penalty--to which I am pretty broadly opposed. It's even worse that he voted for the stupid Homeland Security bill. What really put a bean under my saddle were his comments at goateed hobbit Rick Warren's Jesusopolis last week. He actually said that he believed marriage is between one man and one woman. What a monkeycunt. I'm not planning on running to Boston and getting married to Robert, but it would be nice to have the option. America clearly did not learn the first time that separate but equal is not true freedom.

I share a room with my teacher during my planning period--BTW, Whiny McGripealot, I teach six periods in a row, so my planning period is the last of the day. Watching him teach is excrutiating, and I have to leave the room on occassion so I don't throw up, because that would distract the students from their valuable learnding. For one thing, he thinks he knows Spanish. He calls roll at the beginning of every class--who doesn't know names by the second week--and butchers all of their names. 97 percent of our students are latino/a, and they are not offended if you say their names with an English accent, but he overdoes the accent and it is terrible. "Norrrrrrma Gutierrrrrrezz?" he says, and I have to hide my face so the students don't see me cringe with them. That is bad enough, but he als o happens to think he knows how tot teach. My first two periods are ELA, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I spent today teaching them the days of the week, and they only mostly get it. He has some of these same kids for some reason, and he is trying to teach them compound predicates. You get the idea. What a penis wrinkle.

The highlight of the day, though, bears sharing. In my drama class, i started the kids on the basics of stage combat, because we're going to do a short version of The Outsiders. They loved it. I have one kid in the class who speaks no English, but she's an awesome actress, so I let her do her acting in Spanish some of the time--that's the point of the class after all. All those kids are great, and some of them are really shy, but I've convinced them to stay in the class because they need to get over that. Maybe I'm not such a shitty teacher after all.

Weak one down.

I'm tossing around words to describe my first week with students. Full of surprises? That seems like an exaggeration. The students did surprise me; their writing skills and attitudes are better than I was led to believe. But the week was not full of surprises, no, not full. Stressful? Not as stressful as the weeks leading up to it. Busy is not the right word either. What about heavy? The week was heavy. That's it.

For one thing, I seem to be off to a good start. I don't know if I told you guys about my plans, but the week was centered on classroom processes and social skills. On Monday, I played a game with them. Everybody had to stand up, and if you won you got a piece of candy and a seat. the catch was, I didn't tell them the rules. they had to stand in a certain sequence of spots in the room, but even the ones who did it had no idea how they had won. The point? That's how it feels not to know the rules: frustrating, even maddening. I then went through a little bit about how American society has a secret center, where only a few people can get in and really make it big. The problem is, nobody tells you what the rules are. My goal for the class is to get them the tools to make it. How to get along with others, how to improve yourself, and how to speak and write without sounding like an idiot. Tuesday and Thursday, I went through things like how to pay attention and how I will handle discipline--at which I am getting really good, BTW--and set up the tribal rules for small groups, just like we learned. Huge successes, all of it. On Thursday, after a quiz, I took them outside and make them sit in a circle in the shade. Each of them had to rate his or her emotions on a scale of 1-10, and share anything else they felt like. Now these kids are all at risk. Every one of them, by the official definition,many in more than one category. I expected them to take a while to buy in to the way I roll, but several of them said, "I am a ten today because I really like this class." I was blown away. I fell in love with these kids right then. Lots of them are gangsters, pregnant, don't speak English, or all of the above. Most of them have a chip on their shoulder, because what I say about American society is really true, and they don't see a way out. But I think I just might be able to pull some of them through the keyhole this year.

On top of which, I went out bowling with my new coworkers last night. We were dirty drunk whores, and I can't bowl worth shit on my prosthesis--no balance--but it was a great time, and I think it's going to be a great year.

Hehe

Okay, I know this is my third blog tonight (please make sure to read them all...yes, THREE). I hope you like all my additions to our great blog...read carefully...hehe. The good part about today is that I still know how to crack myself up. Woohoo!

Goodbye

I drove by her today
Silver BMW shining under summer sun
Tears rolled down her naked cheeks
Lips mocking another heartbreak song

She forced her lips
Into unpleasant words
Pursing “Goodbye”
Before breaking into sobs

Her right hand grasped a silent phone
Left hand on the wheel
Eyes glazed with saline solution
Wishing this weren’t real

Her body shook, keeping rhythm
To a dying chorus
A detoxification of hated love,
Loved hate, leaking loss

You had to look to see her
The pain in blind eyes
Searching for satisfaction
Hopeless cries

Pupils dilating, not knowing what to be
I know, she was me

Lights Out

Okay, so I just got home from the baseball game and pure craziness happened. The lights went out in the entire stadium, and I was left in the pitch black. Ahhh! Yes, insane. Anyway, life has been pretty hectic today...I only broke down once, a plus. I found out while filing my FAFSA that my ex-husband lied to me about my federal tax returns...he told me we got $1200 when we really got $2550. He forged my signature, cashed the check and then give me only 1/4 of what was rightfully mine (which he really never gave me because I ended up paying him). Jerk. Anyway, I e-mail his mom today because I'm at a loss of what to do. She calls me petty and then starts tallying off all these things I owe her for (i.e. tax return filing, a plane ticket to see her son after basic training, etc.). I almost threw up. She told me I should consider us even and basically get over it. This is a "Christian woman." No wonder we get a bad name. I told her it wasn't about the money...we all die one day and we can't take any of it with us. I also told her that if she felt that I owed her, then to please bill me, because I'd rather go poor to my grave knowing that I owed her nothing than to be indebted to her with an extra $900 in my bank account. It was the principal...it was the fact that she was condoning stealing and lying as a means to get ahead. I told her that I thought that, as a parent, she would be concerned...obviously I was wrong. I also told her that I felt that bitterness was the most evil trait to carry around in our hearts...I had to move out and move on...but I had moved on, and I felt sorry that she had so much anger in herself towards me (especially when she made the same decision at a young age and was thankful for it). More was said, but I could write forever. Anyway, my mom called, and I started reading her what I had wrote...and I started bawling. I finally broke down...I went through the whole day smiling through the pain, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. How can people be that condescending and cruel? I know I'm better. How dare you call me petty. He stole almost $700 from me. That may be petty to you, but NOT to me (that's not even a month's rent). And like I said, it's the principal. The sad fact of the matter is that, as educators, we can try so hard to teach our kids what is right, but at the end of the day, most of them are going to inherit the values and principals (or lack their of) handed down from their parents. When I got that e-mail from her, I finally realized why John said so many things that he did. I am just so thankful that I walked away and so thankful to know that God has a bigger and better plan for me...I'm reminded of that everyday.

I miss you guys. I don't really know where I'm going with this post...venting, I guess. I'm keeping "Dream" by the way, which I responded to in the original post...you ungrateful punks. Hehe. Love you both.

A Quote to Live By...

So, I recently rediscovered my favorite quote, and I think it fits all of us right now. Maybe we all should embrace it. I am and I think it's helping...that and the fact that I move into my own new apartment on Wednesday. :)

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." --Mark Twain

This being said, I think it's true. We would all regret our current decisions twenty years from now if we hadn't tried this new adventure in our lives. We are mean to explore...dream...and discover. Sometimes, it may be harder; but, now, we just need to embrace what we have in our life at this moment. I seriously feel this way...and I hope that this makes your day brighter.

Remember, this is coming from the girl recently had a serious meltdown in public screaming at her boyfriend. Oops....crazy Italian side came out. :) (Seriously, though, it was awful and I hate remembering it.)

Hugs to you both. I don't know about you, but it makes me feel a little better thinking that we are all going through similar things and knowing that I'm not alone in all of this new beginning stuff. We've sailed away from the safe harbor...and I just KNOW we will get through it...

My mini-revelation of the day....

It's interesting to me that I've been living here for almost a month, yet I still don't feel at home; and it's not just because I don't have any of my furniture. What makes a person feel like they are at "home?" Is it security? Is it being happy? Is it just knowing that you have support and love surrounding you at all times? I'm not sure exactly what makes me feel like something is home, but I'm not feeling it here.

It's not that I'm unhappy, because I'm really not. Well, we did decide no one sees this right? I hope so...Brandon doesn't know the address. I love being with him, but sometimes I am just frustrated. As I walked from the main campus this afternoon in the 105 degree weather (which is considered "pretty cool") I kept thinking, Does Brandon really realize what I've given up to be here with him? I've given up a good job, where I'd be department head (most likely), although I would have had a shitty schedule. I'm super far from my family, which is very hard for me. Essentially, I'm alone and irritated with his brothers. I could normally get away and go to coffee with my cousin, or hang out with you two after class; but, here, no one is my friend. I'm lonely. I know I said that if I'm okay with living here I better be okay with what I'm putting myself through, but sometimes it is hard. I'm fucking irritated and tired of fucking cleaning. I feel like I'm the only person who cleans the kitchen, and Brandon tells me not to, but I have to because I can't cook in a dirty place. I hate sharing a bathroom with them. I hate when they do shit with my kitten, such as try to give him human food or brush him. That just fires me up. I hate that they eat all of the food we buy and they do give us a little money, but they still just eat a LOT...like more than you would think is humanly possible. I'm also irritated that they've invited themselves to come along on our trip home. I want them to help pay for gas, if that is the case. They should offer, but they won't. I just don't think it's fair, nor okay.

Anyway, I'm just feeling a little better. Brandon and I move out as early as next Wednesday, or on the first. It all depends on if I can move it to save a little more money. We'll see.

As I said earlier, I'm not really upset, but some days, it is just hard to be here. Always from everyone I love and from everything that is familiar. I know it's just for a little while, but it remains hard, nonetheless. I just need it to be easier. Maybe I'm just too tired to function today...who knows.

Here’s what I do know: I’m in love, which is always good. I’m loved by my family and friends. I’m missed by my students at Ellicott. Cohabitation with siblings should be outlawed, or I should be given a medal for not attacking two Fraser boys. I have no idea what to make for dinner. I have an awesome deal at Express, and although I still don’t know what my salary is when I get paid next Thursday, I’m going shopping tonight to get a good deal. I’m watching the Olympics and I’m continually amazed that these people are my age or younger. Seriously, when did I get to be the age of the people on tv in sitcoms or athletes? It’s weird. I am thankful for what I have. I need to always remember how blessed I am.

As for my dearest Brandon Payne, I checked out your very old blog, and I’m so impressed with you. Your car accident picture made me tear up. I’m so thankful that you survived, as you are a blessing to me. You are an amazing young man and teacher and I just know God has so much in store for your future. I remember my first encounter with you, but I know you won’t. I was a first-semester sophomore at UCCS and so stoked to be in English classes, that I took Shakespeare with Dr. Laroche too early. I remember you quoting the St. Crispin’s Day speech in class. You were a memorization master and I was always so impressed with you. I admired you from across the classroom with your literary knowledge. I knew one day you’d be an awesome teacher…and here you are. Congrats to you! I even remember you had a watch with a red face. (It’s amazing the things you remember, I remember all sorts of odd shit, but forget important stuff like what I paid to learn in college.)

As for my dearest Stephanie Kemp, God has thrown a lot at you lately. I don’t know how you are dealing with it. I’m falling apart and my shit isn’t even half of what you or Brandon has dealt with in your lives. It is just crazy. You are so amazing and are famous in your town. How cool is that? I am forever amazed with your strength through all of this adversity and your consistent faith. I remember meeting you the first day of TIRP and thinking how good you were with everything put together and I wasn’t prepared at all. You are an amazing teacher with fabulous ideas. I know you will succeed. I’m glad I got to become your friend.

As I walked out to my car today, I thought how cool it was that we've remained friends. I love the fact that we all still talk and share. If there was anything good about TIRP it was you two...seriously. My friendship with you two has taught me a lot. I’m thankful for it. You teach me lessons. Thank you. Now I'm thinking of deleting this blog, but I don't think that is what this is all about.

P.S. As I look at the length of this post, I know it is not of "mini" status, but I just can't bring myself to change it. :)

Speaking of blogs,

I keep a few also. They are all on blogger, but I use a different id to access them, since Robert has access to them and I DON"T WANT HIM TO SEE THIS ONE. I don't really keep secrets from him, but I do edit, and this is my no-no special place where I don't have to do that.

personalbibliography.blogpost.com: this one is a literary analysis blog. For every book I've read for the past three years, I have written a brief reaction or sometimes an entire paper on it here. I am a few months behind, writing about what I've read lately, though.

rookieteacherbrandon.blogspot.com: this is my revisionist biography. I write about shit that has happened in my life, they way I remember it. This may or may not be the way it actually happened, but I am a compulsive editor.

thelifeofbrandon.blogspot.com
I haven't written on this one in two years, but it covers the period immediately before and after the accident, so it is pretty revealing. I went back recently and added a lot of the poetry I have written in the intervening years.

feel free to look at any or all

Pics...

If you want to see my other blog, visit here: http://vaisey.blogspot.com/.
I just updated with pictures from Sedona.
My love to you both...I'm so tired...watching too many Olympics.

My Turn

Okay, well, I guess it's my turn. I just got done with my very first day of new teacher training, and I feel guilty saying that I could not imagine a better school environment. But, be reminded, if you thought Colorado was difficult for getting a teaching license, Washington is 20 times harder. I have been given my own mentor who mentors all new secondary teachers...but this is all she does, mentors...nothing else. And, did I say she's amazing? I am actually the one who took over for her, and she basically told me today that she will give me all her lesson plans, all her handouts, everything, and I can use whatever I want. Did I say that I would make out with her if I swung that way? Yea, amazing. Crazy enough though, this mentor is responsible for observing me once a month over the next year (did someone say TIRP?). The cool thing is though that it's illegal for her to say anything to my principal...so it's strictly just me and her. My principal will have to observe me twice in my first 90 days, and then once a semester after that (similar to Colorado). PS...to get a professional license here, I have to have taught for three years and I have to turn in an entire portfolio of artifacts (much like our teaching portfolio). I honestly feel like I am back in TIRP...it's insane...only, I'm lost without both of you.

The plus side, the support is amazing. We have an entire week of training: questions answered, techniques taught, curriculum guides handed out. It really is unbelievable...not to mention that I get to spend the entire afternoon with my principal tomorrow in my buildling. By the way, Jervaise, you work at "Creek" and everyone calls my school "River." I find this ironic for whatever reason. But, I met two really cool girls today. One of them played competitive rec league basketball at Oregon and she wants to be my assistant coach, which is SO exciting. I can't even begin to curb my enthusiasm at this point. The other girl is the new head soccer coach at a nearby high school. Plus, there's a hot guy that sits at the table across from me...not bad, not bad.

But...I miss my girls. One of the moms called me today because she wanted to tell me that the girls missed me and that they were thinking about me and they hoped that everything was going well. It's amazing that you can leave that impact...and WE ALL DID...you know that. But, if we don't move on, we'll never grow...as people, as educators. Like we all said before we left, if life sucks, we can always go back. I miss you guys terribly...

Teaching in the "Creek"

I feel it is important to explore the differences and challenges between teaching at Ellicott and teaching at the "Creek." (Yes, the students and teachers call Cave Creek, the Creek.)

At any rate, it's official: I'm admitting it and not ashamed. I miss Ellicott. Sure, I'd be forced to do awful things that would drive anyone crazy at Ellicott, but I miss the teachers I loved and my students. It' s so hard to be at a school and have to earn respect again. For example, at Ellicott, if I went into any class meeting, there was immediate silence, because they knew that they didn't want to make me angry, and that I had something to say. I'm just sad to have to fight for this again. Now, my three classes of seniors are pretty good...although my 4th period is a pretty chatty group. I think it's because the class is right before lunch.

As for my sophomores, they just piss me off. My 2nd period with them isn't a horrible group. They are pretty good, but 7th period will be the bane of my existence. I already hate them. Not all of them, but this one group is just awful. All they talk about is doing drugs and going to raves. They are freaking 15...when did this become okay? When was it okay for your parents to give you cocaine? Or your parents know you are doing coke at 15? Or going to raves to do Ecstasy. I just don't understand. I know that popping X was becoming the big thing at Ellicott, but here it's an epidemic. I can't understand. I hate that my students do it, and I hate that this one little Jessiee is a snot and I want to attack her. She's just a jerk and I know, already, that I'm going to have to write a referral. I hate referrals. Oh well. This class will be the bane of my existence. However, now I have a reason to push for a phone in my classroom....I'm going to need it to call for Security to come get the students and take them to the discipline office.

Ugh. I hate it. I just feel so exhausted. I can never catch up on my sleep and it seems like the longest week ever. I need to be better at leaving on time, because I can't stay as late as I have been for five days. I'll fall apart.

I'm sure this school will be better, but right now, I'm struggling. On a good note, I think I've written the best syllabus ever. Check it out on my website: http://ccusd93.org/education/staff/staff.php?sectionid=1718&sc_id=1218393275. Don't judge me based on it. I haven't had any time to make it better.

Oh...I totally have Olympic Fever and can't stop watching the Olympics. I hope I'm not alone. It's just so amazing and cool to me. :)

Denvention

For the third time in sixty years, the World Science Fiction Convention has come to Colorado. I have been to science fiction conventions before, StarCon, ComiCon, et cetera. I have attended Klingon speaking workshops and panel discussions on which super hero would win in a fight, all night Robotech marathons, and other similarly pathetic events. Picture, if you will, the spectacle: costumes, spock ears, obese Xena impersonators, virgins of every shape, size and species!

Now flush all of that. The WSFS is something completely different. Oh, there were people in silly garb here and there, but we could have counted them on our fingers. This was not a fan convention; this was serious business. The typical attendee was a slightly obese male, age 50-60, Libertarian, with a pony tail and a bolo necktie, a writer of dubious merit and credentials. I was pleased to note that out of the thousands of attendees, I was among the most attractive.

The events were reflective of the attendees. The first one we went to was "Tales From the Slush Pile". Three editors read selections from the most terrible submissions they had ever received, including one which asked the burning question, "What if Sir Lancelot was a dolphin, and King Arthur a teenage girl?" Hilarity, to be sure, but a little bit uneasy--what if some of the writers were in the audience . . .?

I confess: I was out of my depth by a wide margin. Sure, I've read Science Fiction, and am informed enough about it to teach a class on it. But I was a low level demon in nerd hell. I went to an entire seminar devoted to the later works of Robert Heinlein, thinking that I had read some of his stuff and would find it informative, but I was abased. Every person in the room seemed to have his entire oeuvre memorized. I couldn't think of a single relevant thing to say. There were similarly intricate panels on politics in Sci-Fi, the best 20 novels of the last 20 years (some of which I added to my reading list), and the like.

But the piece de resistance was to come at the end of the evening: the Hugo Awards ceremony. It was a big to do, although everyone's version of formal dress was a bit . . . upholstered. the award itself looks the same every year, but a new base is designed by the host city. Denver commissioned a cheap looking plastic mountain, cloying with foil stars. It looked terrible, and the award itself is basically a vibrator.

Well-played Colorado. I was surprised that many of the recipients didn't come to receive their awards in person. Of course, some of them were big name movie directors or producers, and Michael Chabon won for best novel--no doubt he's too busy fellating kittens. But Connie Willis, a Colorado native, was the only winner of a big award to take the triumphal walk to the stage, wave to the cameras, and make a brief speech--just like you see on Oscar night.

In short, maybe the Hugo awards aren't as big a deal as I had thought. If people don't even bother to come receive them, that's one giveaway. The other clue is the categories for which they are offered, including one that I consider a travesty: best fan writer. that translates into my mind as "Best guy who couldn't get his work published, but is a really enthusiastic!!!" I guess when the WSFS rolls into Denver again in 20 years, I might pass.

A Poem

I smile to justify your anti-sincerity
Your coniving, curdled lips
Once kissed
So harsh, so stoic, so polluted

Foot still in an ice bucket...

You guys suck...you little workers who don't have time for me anymore. It's okay, I have my new teacher orientation all next week (8-4...I haven't seen 8 AM for awhile now). I'm just sitting here miserably soaking my foot in an ice bucket. Guess what though? I haven't texted Jordan all day. I know, not that cool...but totally a big deal for me. And I have every intention of waiting for him to contact me before I say anything. Ha...take that. I did start crying this morning for no apparent reason, but it lasted a good 1 minute before I was over it. I think I have my grad school stuff figured out. I'm going to go through Grand Canyon University (I find it ironic that I will be getting an Arizona teaching license). $20,000 later I will be making $8,000 a year. No complaints. My life is going to suck next year, but I'm used to it as this point. It will be like I'm going to TIRP, only I won't have to deal with ice woman. Another good thing is that they'll take up to 12 of my graduate credits from UCCS, so that means I can get out of 3 classes (glorious) and another 12 credits is strictly student teaching (which I'll have my own classroom, obviously, so it won't really be hard...and I'll totally turn in my case study from last year if I have to). God has His ways...I'm trusting it at this point. I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning at this point, but I am surely being tested. My motto: "I don't know how to fail." Conceited, I know...but totally me. Maybe I should get that tattood on my side? Still pondering the ink. Well, anyways, I need to finish reading "Beowulf" among other things...seeing as how I'm not going to have any time to plan lessons or grade next year (I need to figure out a system). I like how Rick had the kids do like 5 papers, but he only graded 1 (and the kids didn't know which one). I was also thinking of having them journal everyday, but I want to come up with a system for grading that doesn't require a lot of effort (like check plus, check, check minue, zero). Brandon, did you try those home groupings that we discussed with the guy from Manitou that one day? I'm pretty sure you did. How did it work? I have honors kids. How am I going to push them...hell, they probably know more than I do. Speaking of knowing more. I really liked this passage from "Beowulf" but I can't really grasp what it's saying:

"But death is not easily/escaped from by anyone:/all of us with souls, earth-dwellers/and children of men, must make our way/to a destination already ordained/where the body, after the banqueting,/sleeps on its deathbed."

We're always on our deathbed? Waiting for death? PS...Seamus Heaney is fabulous. And do you pronounce Heorot as "heart?" I know, I'm so not an English-er...and I love to make up words.

Robert just left for Washington D.C.. He won't be back until Saturday at the earliest, and I feel cheated. We were supposed to hang out this morning and have a nice breakfast before he left, snuggle, etc.. Instead, he got called into work to repair some dum [sic] machine before he leaves, and we drove through McDonalds. We ate in the car.

Cohabitation has been fine so far. It hasn't been Valhalla, but neither has is been purgatory, and i was silently expecting the latter, so we're satisfied. Except when it comes to one thing. Before I go any further, this blog is completely confidential, right? Nobody else has the address, right? Or ever will, right? Right? Glad we could clear that up.

The sex is weird. I don't know what the deal is, but I am not satisfied, and I suspect neither is he. Two nights ago in bed, it was so awkward. I won't get specific, but there was an argument as a result, and I lay there in silent turmoil. No doubt you both think I say whatever stupid, bitchy thing comes into my head, but not so. I have my little secret resentments, things left on the editing room floor. They're usually not anything big--those things I deal with--just little scraps and leftovers, a chicken wing, some moo goo gai pan from last weekend, a half a cup of balsamic vinegar . . . it all goes into the casserole dish and bakes for a week on low. Two nights ago, the timer went off, and it was time to take it out of the oven.

I didn't want to say anything. I hate making Robert mad, because I want him to be happy, and he doesn't deal well with direct conversations about difficult or awkward topics. The casserole was bubbling, though. I had twenty different grievances brewing in there, and it had to come out, to wit:

"I'm sad, because I don't think you're satisfied sexually" (This was not as grown up as it sounds because, although these were the actual words, a pouty cutesy voice was used to take the edge off).

"It's OK PP. The great thing about us is that sex is not the most important thing. We have other things going for us"

"That sounds like something boring people say to make themselves feel better about having bad sex."

"Work in progress, PP. Work in progress."

At which, I let it go. So here I am, stuck at home alone for almost a week. So much is right about us, as he says. We laugh at the same things and people, we don't take shit too seriously, we still give each other the sparklefarts, even after two years. Et cetera. I already miss him.

Can't Sleep...

Okay...yes, I am posting again today. I can't sleep because my ankle is throbbing. I just talked to Jordan on the phone, and it was just...well, awkward is the only word to describe it. We hadn't talked for almost a week. I almost kind of felt nothing...from him and for him. I don't really know how to describe it, which is totally not the point of this post so moving on. As I was saying, my motherf-ing ankle is killing me so I wander downstairs to get some water...and my computer is staring at me (yes, staring)...so I decide to get on Craigslist, my new favorite pasttime when I have nothing better to do (and I need to laugh). I love searching the "missed connections," because it's somewhat cute to think that someone may have seen me through the course of the day and thought I was worthy enough to get my very own post (what a novel idea...I wonder if a relationship has ever started because of this passive flirtatiousness?)...but really it's the "men seeking women" that I'm after. I especially love when I get a good picture of an ass...seriously, who posts their own ass (Brandon, no comment please)? Anyway, I was just thinking that it's weird that we can all narrow ourselves down to a few things: 5'7", 130 lbs., dirty blonde hair, brown eyes (as if that makes me, or anyone else, sexy). We all picture something else when reading these "descriptions," if these things are even worthy enough to be called descriptions. Which celebrity is 6', 180 lbs. with brown spikey hair and green eyes? I don't know the answer to this; I'm just making the point that we all see who we want to see, and we all see someone different. And athletic build...what the h- does that mean? I work out once a week? I have muscles you wouldn't even know existed? I take the stairs to work? It's just so...vague. No one talks about what their teeth look like, or if they have any weird moles or acne issues, or whether or not their thighs are a little bit bigger than normal. Yes, some guys explicitly state that they want a "bbw," which I recently learned stands for "big beautiful woman," but unless you get a picture, you really have no idea what you're getting yourself into. This poses my next question, why no pictures? I mean, let's be honest...you have to be attracted to each other. I finally realized that people you work with or babysit or whatever, may see you on this sad classified and mock you, but the whole point is that you're looking for someone...why do you care, number one, and number two, would your co-worker or the people you babysit for or whoever, really say anything? Depends on the bluntness, I guess...because Brandon, you would so call someone out...I know you. I've finally realized that 50% of these crazies post the same ad over and over again (as if once weren't enough), 48% are total creeps (i.e. "looking for a single mom to be your sugar daddy," "I have a wife, but she doesn't satisfy me," or "You must be into threesomes because I think I'm bi.") and the remaining 2% may, or may not, be normal. I saw one guy who was moving from Denver (School of Mines), and thought it would be great to meet someone from back home. He was cool, but not THAT cool...plus, we're the same height so it would never work. I definitely need more friends though, so I thought, "Why not?" Now, he won't stop calling me. I have him on permanent ignore. Mean, I know, but not as mean as telling him to leave me the hell alone. He's going to Canada and wants to know if he can leave his car here for a couple weeks....ummm, no. I live on a marina...parking is limited, and not cheap. Are you crazy? Plus, he lives on the southeast side. PS, I don't do the southeast side. Anyway, back to the CL (Craigslist for you newcomers). So, can't we all make ourselves attractive? And are those real photos? Who is real? Can you really trust the people that say "I can't believe I'm doing this" or "I normally don't do this kind of thing, but I'm sick of all the fake chicks?" Does it matter if they would normally "never" do it and now they are? Why would it matter? But...in all it's weirdness, wouldn't it be kind of interesting if this is how we were forced to meet people? There would be less heartbreak...I think...because it's to the point. You want an LTR (long-term relationship) or you don't...everyone's honest about it up front...and you see the picture, you like what you see, and you make the move...WHABAM...it's that simple (only you know what the other person is looking for at the end of the night, what's important to him/her, which is not always the case when making a late-night move at a bar). I think I should post my ad...see what kind of dousches I get. As a side note, I want to call my soulmate...I think I'm going to grow some balls and do it (not literally, of course). Anyway, back to what I was saying, it just seems like such a novel concept...posting a classified (I mean, literally, you're selling yourself...without charging for it). It's quite bizarre really...but here I am, it's 1:35 AM and I'm totally into it...even if it's for humor's sake. But really, we all know that in the back of my head, I'm waiting for Prince Charming to pop up on the screen...but he never will because there's no way in hell Prince Charming does CL...could he?

My Adventures

Okay...so, it's a Monday and I have nothing to do. Jervaise is out conquering the desert, so I figured I should appreciate the great outdoors here in Oregon. I decide that I want to take the dogs on an all-day hike...fun enough. My neighbor gives me the details on a 14-mile hike about 45 minutes from my house. I decide to try it out. It's a beautiful day, about 80 degrees, not a cloud in the sky. I drive out there, and it's absolutely gorgeous. The dogs are loving life. Mile 2 comes, and bam, my right ankle goes down...hard (and I've suffered enough ankle sprains in my life for you to know that hard means HARD)...2 miles! The hike is 7 out and 7 back. I just got started...there's a waterfall at the end I'm supposed to see, the dogs are ecstatic...I can't turn back (not to mention the gas money I spent to get out to this place and the $5 parking pass...not cheap). I hobble on, it loosens up, and I figure this won't be so bad...I've played entire basketball games on black ankles; I can do this. The scenery is beautiful. Roxy is off lead and coming when called. The day could not be any better. So, mile 5...it happens again. I don't know whether or not I should turn around, cry, or strap on a pair (as they say). I had 2 miles left to the end...I couldn't turn back, so I settle for 'strapping on a pair' while crying. On the way back, I get to stick my ankle into the river at mile 8. It remained frozen until mile 9, which was pleasant. Then, the going got tough. Roxy decided to befriend a man going VERY fast...in which I rolled the stupid ankle yet again in my chase to keep up. Both dogs now leashed, I carried on (them pulling me more than anything...although Cali gave me 'the look' about 4 times, 'Mom...seriously, are we there yet?' Roxy could have done the darn trail again the minute we finished...at the moment, both have been passed out from the minute we walked in the door). I think I cried my whole way through miles 13 and 14...looking like I had a tree branch lodged you know where...and I was never so happy to see my car then I was at that moment (I managed a one-legged dance that only Brandon would appreciate). I drove the entire way home on cruise control, grimacing every time I had to touch the pedal. It was lovely. Seriously though, best day I've had here. The trail was beautiful (at least on the way there...on the way back, I was only concerned about where my feet were landing). Check out my photography skills on Facebook (Eagle Creek Hike). 'No pain, no gain,' right? My foot has been in an ice bucket all night...what an exciting evening...

PS - The waterfall was sweet :)

A Weekend of Revelations

So this weekend seems to be a weekend of revelations for me...one that is full of ups and downs.
First, I had my last three day weekend in who knows how long. This is seriously going to be a problem for me, as I've grown quite fond of my four day work week. Damn. Anyway, so on Friday, when Brandon got out of school, I decided to head to another mall. There happens to be a mall up the street, but darn it, they don't have my favorite store, so we had to venture out. We went up to northwestern Phoenix, which I'm sure is a suburb with another name, but I can't get all of the damn names straight here, but I think it was Peoria. Anyway, this was a totally positive moment. Express was having a sale...which is the best time to shop. I got 4 of my favorite blouses (that are short sleeved, and now a necessity in this land of eternal heat) for $20 each, which is a savings of $30 each! Good deals, but I also got like $30 off from my birthday discount and my member discount (God help me...I'm addicted and an A-List member, which means I've spent way too much money there over the past few years). Anyway, enough about that, but I know Stephanie will appreciate the good deals in shopping.
On Saturday, we attempted to wake up bright and early, but managed 9:00 instead. We went off-roading in Sedona. I loved it! The red rocks were fabulous, much like a VERY extended Garden of the Gods, but you can drive on it...crazy! We went down these "steps." I'll post a video, later. Very stressful times. Anyway it was lots of fun. Brandon and I enjoyed our day out in nature together. We also went to Flagstaff, since it was only about 10 miles from Sedona and we were hungry. We've decided we wished MMI was in Flagstaff. It's like a pretend Colorado, it can kind of fool you into believing you are home. There are "mountains" (not as big as Colorado, but they work) and trees and there is boarding there in the winter, plus it is a LOT cooler. Seriously, take a moment in your non-100 degree plus temperature to bask in it! Love it! Enjoy it...for me. Side note: Every morning when I drive to work at 7:30 a.m. it is already 88 degrees or higher. How insane is that?
On Sunday, I've decided I'm getting an apartment--with Brandon--alone. We think it'll be better. This could be because I might have murdered his brothers today, if it was possible. Or just had a meltdown. Here's why in a nutshell: I am NOT the mother of 3 adult men. I'm sick of them acting like it. So, here's the good news. I've spend a good chunk of tonight checking out apartments on the internet. There are two I like, fairly cheap, but nice, and I'm going to look at them tomorrow. Oh...another plus...it's finally raining here! This is the second time tonight. I know that doesn't sound exciting, especially in Colorado and Oregon, but in Phoenix, it's a blessing. I soooo miss the rain. Here's the sad part though, it smells sort of toxic. They have so much air pollution here that there are weekly air pollution reports on the news and in the paper. Crazy, hunh?
Okay, so this is a fairly lame post, but at least you know what's shaking in my life. Ha...
Anyway, it's getting late. I get to meet the entire staff of over 135 tomorrow...won't that be exciting! And, let's say a silent prayer that there are no creature by my classroom. That's right...I have to be afraid of the following creature in my room: ants, cockroaches (they get in...ick!), rattlesnakes, and javelina (they are like brown pigs, the males have tusks, and they travel in packs and are a little vicious and crazy because humans feed them here). Holy crap...that is scary stuff. I hate creatures I've just mentioned. Remind me why I live in the eternal furnace and teach in the desert with wild creatures outside my door?

Seriously?

Where the hell are you two? I know you're working now, but you can't expect me to do all the work. I have needs too you guys. Anyway, I think I'm going to get my tattoo tomorrow...totally wish one of you were here so I could cry and hold your hand (because let's face it, it is going to hurt like a bitch). I went to Redbull Flugtag today...hilarious. Check out my pictures on Facebook. You will love it. Wish you both could have been there...

Picture this: I'm laying in bed, one-legged and in my underpants, half-heartedly reading The Tale of Genji. Robert is in the kitchen nuking some dinner before he jets off to see Eddie Izzard in concert. He only has one ticket. Bitch.

Cue terrible scream. I can think of no other way to describe this than to say it was the faggiest thing I have ever heard. Imagine that Nathan Lane and RuPaul put their hands on hot burners simultaneously and you have some approximation. Robert runs to the bathroom holding his hand and whimpering, asking if I have a first aid kit.

I find my reaction to this little scena [sic] pretty revealing. I have a pretty calm head and a pretty unflappable manner in life. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I simply don't get startled very easily. You would think, therefore,that I would calmly assess the situation, analyze solutions, et cetera. Not so. You know that sinking sensation that accompanies a sudden terrible realization, such as remembering a job interview that you were due for an hour ago? Sometimes you get the same sensation seeing something terrible, like a child almost get struck by a car, or a kitten tossed into a river. That was only the first interesting thing I felt when I heard Queen Roberta pierce her index finger--ever so slightly, as it happens--with a steak knife: a heartsick terror.

After chiding him for his fagginess, I experienced another telling emotion. I began to cry. He had really scared me, and I imagined, briefly but clearly, losing him. I've kinda been a weepy mess this week anyway, and I even have teared up a couple of times during this teacher in-service we are doing--not at appropriate moments either. My table mate posits that I'm simply processing the stress of moving out of the only city I've ever known, and she is probably right. I've given up everything for Robert--kinda. He's all I've got up here, him and these Totino's Pizza rolls I'm eating while he watches Eddies Izzard. Bitch.

I homeless...

So, I'm trying not to be Ms. Negative, but I'm currently unable to detach, so here I am: I'm irritated and fucking pissed. Why you may ask? Well, that would be because I don't know if I can get into a damn house. Yes, this is quite the problem. Remember, we (4 adults) are crammed into a 1 bedroom apartment right now...that's right, it isn't a type...4 adults and ONE bedroom! I'm sleeping on a fucking air mattress...in the "living room." I'm sharing a bathroom with three super icky and dirty boys! (Okay, maybe two, but Brandon does have his moments. I swear his brothers are rubbing off on him. He wasn't like this at my house.)
Now onto the real problem. I really loved this house, and I finally got called back. But here's the problem: I'm probably the only person who would qualify by the strict rental rules in this state. Well, maybe it's all states, but it is at least all of the property management places I find here. You have to make 3 times the rent to qualify, pass a credit check and a previous rental history check. Herein lies the problem: I'm the only one to pass the money check. I would probably pass the credit check, I've never defaulted or anything, but I'm sure my debt to income ratio isn't so awesome. As for the rental history, I really don't have one. I just lived out of my Mom's for the first time really last year, but I rented from within my friends house. They signed the lease, and I sure as hell wasn't because they aren't the most financially sound. They choose to not pay bills; it's weird, but I chose to help them out and get the house they wanted. However, I wasn't on the lease, so technically I don't have any rental history. I'm totally fucked. I think Brandon and I are going to end up in our own apartment, which isn't horrible, but I really don't want to be in an apartment. I'm just super bummed.
As for the credit thing, Brandon is the 2nd of 5 boys. Boys #1 and #4 currently reside with me. #1 is SUPER lazy. He admits it, but it's frustrating, because now we're all paying the price...me and Brandon the most. Here's a quick story: Brandon is deploying to Iraq, but has a dirt bike he bought months earlier. #1 says that he'll just take over payments, and pays like 1 or 2 payments in 18 months! Now, B's credit is screwed, and #1's, too, because he bought a bike for his then girlfriend, and they broke up and he never paid one single bill...in 2 years! Oh...and we all have to sign the paperwork and it just won't work for one of us, because we are all living there. As for #4, he's probably okay credit wise, but really doesn't have any because he's 19.
So, now, as if I don't have enough on my mind, now I have to decide to settle with an apartment or find some poor kind soul who is renting on their own not through a property management company. Fuck me! It may be a blessing in disguise to be alone with Brandon, but I'm bummed to be in an "apartment." Oh well. It'll work out. Just pray I can find a fucking apartment now...I suppose. Ugh...I'm officially sad.

Your thoughts...

Okay, so I am totally into getting another tattoo now that I am out and on my own. I've thrown around some quotes, but I'm stuck on "Be not afraid of greatness." It's my favorite Shakespeare quote, I've loved it since high school, and I have it plastered all over my room (signing yearbook after yearbook). It's powerful. We don't decide to not do things because of fear; we don't do things because we are scared that we won't succeed...there's a different. Anyway, here are some fonts. I want to know your expert opinion. I want to put it on my left ribcage (below the bra line...I think...I'm playing around with it) reading from left to right.

Okay, nevermind...I can't get the fonts to work on here. I'll e-mail them, I guess since that's the only place to put a darn attachment. Brandon, peachy to speak with you today. I'll keep working on the inner thigh/vagina tattoo.

Faith

I thought I found my soulmate today...maybe he is. I went to a job interview for 24 Hour Fitness (40 applicants and about 10 interviewers). I get the cute one...magically. Anyway, he's writing left-handed and I'm totally into the tattoo he has on his wrist. I'm staring...twisting my neck...doing everything I can to find out what it says. He finally looks at me and says, "What the heck?" shoving his wrist behing his back, trying to hide the fact that he does have a tattoo. I tell him I want to see it, so he reluctantly drags it out. It's a cross with the word "Faith" written underneath. I about died while screaming, "Shut up," "You have to be kidding me," and "No way." Why? Because if we recall correctly, I have a fish tattooed on my left wrist with the word "Faith" written inside of it. Like I said, I about died. Then I showed him the one on my foot, which allowed me to show off my amazingly cool shoes. He asked why I should have the job. I said (1) my shoes are awesome, (2) my tattoo, (3) I know what I'm doing because I've had the job before...and if I don't know, I'll learn how in 2 seconds flat, and (4) I'm arrogant. If that doesn't get me in, I don't know what will. Ha.

Seriously though, I was smitten. He has more tattoos...on his back...let's just say, I'd like to see them. I just suck at being forward. I mean, I am, but it's not like I asked to go out with him. Should I? He had my resume, my phone number, and it was completely obvious I was flirting. I couldn't have been more obvious. I giggled the whole way out of the damn gym.

What are the chances...same word, same wrist...and we get each other for an interview?

Why are all my posts about the male population? I am pathetic.

I'M SO PROUD OF BOTH OF YOU!

Book Recommendation

"How to Read Literature Like a Professor"

it's fabulous...and something every high school kid in America should read...even if you photocopy only a few chapters...or talk about them

He's just not that into you if...

Okay, I'm dieing here. I miss him...it's killing me! Seriously. I hate to play the pathetic victim, but I am living in Obama-land where tree-hugging crazies worship organic anything while shoving safety pins through their clothing. I met a guy...found out he's 20...almost shit myself. I am making it a horrible habit to compare everyone...and I mean EVERYONE...to him, and it's not boding very well for me...no one will ever be him, and he'll never be what I need him to be (at least, that's what I think...but I'm horrible at reading things). Brandon, bless your heart, bought me "He's Just Not That Into You..." God-knows-how-long-ago. I think I'm able to make some additions (you tell me).

He's just not that into you if...

1. He only calls you every night for crazy, sexy, kinky phone talk. Seriously you guys, I could put a phone sex operator to shame (Is it okay to admit that? Maybe that's why I'm typing it...I feel more normal). This is some marketable hot shit...and every night...no joke (sometimes, if we're lucky, it's mid-day too). He turns me into the horniest person I know...and I obviously do the same to him. This is a guy who's never had sex (although we've come MIGHTY close), and he talks about how he can't wait to have sex with me in every room of OUR house! WTF?! He gets off by me telling him that no other guy can compare to him and I only want his dick FOREVER (sorry for the vulgarity). Seriously though...and you can't call yourself my boyfriend (at least as far as I know)?! What the hell do I do with that? And can you understand my confusion? We text all day long (generally), and we talk on the phone like twice a day. Once is normal (which could be that I'm a retard because I don't know how to work a voicemail or we could have a deep, meaningful conversation about anything and everything...side note: this is one of the things that I LOVE about him). The other though, always sex. I'm not complaining. It's hot. But what the fuck does it mean? And when he's home or in California for a soccer tournament, we have limited phone conversations (in which he'll come back to the privacy of his own room in Colorado and tell me about how much he missed talking to me...or he'll miss out on a trip to the beach to stay in his room by himself to call me). He gets annoyed when I tell him to move out here, but he finds me as an aggressive bitch a total turn on (where I rant and raid about how he's such a pussy for not getting his dumb ass out here and doing completely x-rated, dirty things to me)...he begs me to get pissed and tell him that there's no way in hell I can be his bitch when he won't get his punk ass out here. Does this even make sense? Can you even follow? I don't know if I can...it sounds so awkward written down.

2. It's always too late to answer a serious question. Because every time I bring up whether or not I'm wasting my time by continually devoting all my time to him, he tells me that it's too late to get into this deep conversation (but it's never too late to phone hump...but please keep in mind that I'm the one that gets called...when I called on my birthday, so-called man was already asleep...and let's note that the jealousy factor has been kicked up. During these phone tirades I must continually tell him that every dude that has asked for my number is a stupid idiot (in more or less words) and no one could compare to him...which they can't (or I just keep telling myself that), but he loves hearing it). We've had serious conversations, but they're more about him going back to Cincinnati and what life in general will bring. He's totally freaked out by past relationships. He told me that it was hard to handle me having been with other guys, and I was married, so I'd obviously had sex. I told him that I forgave myself, God forgave me, and if he ever wanted to be with me, he'd have to forgive me too. He said that he respected my decision to leave, but it was a difficult pill to swallow. I told him it was gross to think about any person with another, him included...and his excuse was that the few chicks he had been with (remember, no sex), were all "cool" (by whose standards, I'm not sure).

3. You buy him floor seats to a Nuggets game for his birthday, send him stuff you know he'll like, but you only get a phone call on your birthday. I'm not a big birthday person, and he's DEFINITELY not (a mixture of him being a guy and him being him)...but am I wrong to want just a little something? We talked about getting a plane ticket, which totally fell through (obviously)...and I know he just moved and doesn't have my address (although I did send him a hoodie I found at the Nike outlet)...but, a card...something. Maybe this is dumb...although I know that you will both argue it's not (dang excuses!).

4. He can't move to you, but revels in the idea of you moving to him. Enough said.

5. He can't invite you to his sister's wedding. You know that he talks about you to his family, but there's this totally scary thought of actually bringing you home that he just can't deal with.

Am I a complete moron?

I'm posting a classified, God help me. This is what it's going to say:

Calling all jocks...not I-was-good-in-high-school-once, not I-lift-weights-improperly-like-a-meathead, not I-watch-football-on-Sundays. I need a dude that can beat me at HORSE (and I'm good...damn good). I need a guy that can outdrink me at a baseball game while reciting statistics of players from both teams. You must be well-versed in Sportscenter lingo...if you don't know who Stewart Scott is, don't answer. You must have owned at least one pair of Jordan's in your life, and if you've never heard of Nike Dunks, exit now please. If you have season tickets to any sports team, brownie points for you. If you have a gym membership (and use it regularly), keep reading. I run (a lot), so you have to keep up...but please, I'd rather spend the weekend camping without hearing you complain that your biceps are getting smaller. I have two dogs...they sleep on the bed...if you don't like it, deal with it...if you can't deal with it, find a chick with a cat. If you can't love them, I'll never love you (and that would make dating pointless). Also, must be smart. As in, have a degree, a job, a potential job or at least know what the heck you should be looking for in the classified section. If you think teaching is an 8-3 job, go fuck yourself (seriously...not just for me, but for every teacher out there). Must sit on the couch with me when grading and rub my feet. Don't agree with everything I say...I'm not always right...but when I am, don't be an ass, tell me. Sarcasm required. Life's too short to take everything seriously. Laughing is my favorite pasttime. Looks aren't everything, but I want to want to do you (like AT LEAST twice a day)...if this isn't going to work out for you, get a dog.

Should I post it? Oh...just imagine the dousches I would find. I'm well on my way to a handful at this point.

PS...I found the mall today...amazing...

I've made the trek...and am settling into my new "home"

So, I've made the trip from Ellicott to Phoenix. It was crazy. Let me give you some highlights of the trek:

• Leonidas, my kitten (he's 10 months old), had an interesting start to the trip. I tried to put a Dramamine into some cheese to get him to sleep on the journey. He spit it out. Then my Mom and I held him down and threw it into his mouth and held it closed. He then made himself throw up and the pill. Then, I tried putting it in peanut butter. He started to dry hack. So, we tried mashing it and putting it in tuna and tuna water. He didn't take it still. Crazy cat! So, he just got to enjoy the ride crying for the first hour--non-stop! Then he stopped and was much better.
• Leo doesn't like mountain passes or the windows down...he's an a/c cat! He'll cry when he experiences either thing, but overall the second trip was better.
• I stopped in Durango for the night to enjoy time with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jamie Lynn. We went out and had super yummy sushi and good conversations. It was great.
• Leo and I left a little late, but Jamie and I enjoyed our breakfast. We made the almost 7 1/2 hour drive from Durango to Phoenix. It was really weird to drive past two places I really wanted to go to: Four Corners and Grand Canyon. Oh well. I had Leo and it was WAY too hot to leave him in the car. There's always the next trip.

So, now I'm settling into the little apartment while we look for a house. Well, now I'm sleeping on an air mattress, but with the man I love, so all is well. Life throws some crazy things at you, and I'm there. We've already looked at two houses. One is okay, but I don't really love it for the price. The cool thing is that there are 3 palm trees in the front yard. How cool is it to have palm trees in your front yard? Maybe it's only cool because I'm from Colorado. I'm calling tomorrow to look for more house options.

I've applied for my provisional license in Arizona. Tomorrow is my first day, and I've got jitters. I remember how nervous I was before my first day at Ellicott, and I feel that way again, but it's a little different. In Ellicott, I at least knew where everything was...I'm clueless at Cave Creek. I'm a little nervous, but I think it will be fun! I can't wait! Tomorrow is the start to this new adventure in my life. It'll be interesting. I'll keep you updated.

DENIED

Dear Stephanie Kemp,

After receiving your application for a Washington certificate, you were sent requests for missing/additional materials. To date, we have not received the requested materials. Therefore, we are denying your certification based on the fact that we have not received and/or verified required materials listed below:

Other: Has not yet completed the alternative route certification program and does not have three years of teaching experience.

____________________

So...I have that going for me. Some quotes:

"The will of God will never take you where the grace of God cannot protect you."

"To write you have to live and to live you have to be willing to risk everything it takes."

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go, things go wrong so you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." -Marilyn Monroe

"I gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face...I say to myself, I've lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along." -Eleanor Roosevelt

"Forget about the people in your past. There's a reason they didn't make it to your future."

Miss you today...

Selected excerpts from end of year student letters

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Leaving my comfort behind...

So this week I have done some of the hardest things of my life. Seriously. I'm moving...finally scattering to the third wind to which this blog refers. All I can think to myself is what in the hell am I doing?
Here's why:
I'm going for the experience, to be with the person I love, to teach in an amazing school, to feel like an adult, and for so many other reasons.
Here's why I'm freaking out:
I'm leaving my Mom, sister, and cousin behind--who are the most important people in my life. Who I've never been separated from for more than the month I was already gone this summer. I've packed my room. Said goodbye to my students, colleagues, friends, and family. Although it isn't forever, it sure feels like it. I feel so upset and overwhelmed. I can't stop crying (Brandon, I know you are cringing right now, and Steph, I know that you feel my pain.). Why is this so hard? Oh...wait! I know...it's life. For some reason I live in this crazy land that tells me that everything is a romantic tale, and when it isn't, I kind of freak out. And here I am...freaking out. Not because I am afraid of my choice. I feel like this is all part of God's plan for me...somehow. Today, I looked through all of my old things that students made for me and did. It was so hard to realize that I won't be teaching those kids this fall. I love them, which is something my Brandon can't understand. I don't think I've cried this much saying goodbye in my life. I hate that someone else will be in my room, teaching my kids, and possibly fucking up all of my hard work. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just being hard on whoever they get to replace me, which is a funny concept. I don't think Ellicott will realize how much I've actually DONE for them the past two years, and this year is going to be a wake up call to them. How tragic that today as I walked through those purple doors, I knew I'd never be Ms. Murr there again. I am forever just "Jervaise," or that "teacher who was here for a couple of years...but I can't remember her name." I know I've made an impact on the kids I've taught, but I've grown to love them. I'm sad to not teach them every day and see "Random Banana" on my whiteboard. (Long story short: some of my favorite new seniors as sophomores decorated my whiteboard in fruit whenever I left my room. On the last day of school my first year teaching, they covered my room in real and fake fruit and always just wrote the phrase on my board to annoy underclassmen who didn't know what it meant and to make me smile. This year, one of them told me, they were going to wear shirts that said that on the first day of school just to make me smile. Ugh...I miss them already.)
Now, I get to drive for 13 hours on a trek to the land of extreme heat, to teach at a school with 1800 students. How the hell do you go from 260 to 1800? Holy shit! I know I'll survive and it'll be good for me, but it is really scary. This is the first time that I've admitted that. I'm scared. I'm scared of everything that goes along with this move. I'm leaving my comfort zone behind...and opening myself up to the great big world. I'm excited for what this will hold...but a little weary. As for my friends. The people I've grown to love the past two years and feel blessed to know...we've been scattered to the three winds. We are all experiencing something new this year, and I feel that this blog will help us. I miss you already...and still, somehow, despite all of the moving and saying goodbye, think I'll see you on Saturday morning, where we'll be desperately unhappy in the presence of our dear friend Judi. Hee hee! :)
At any rate, it's getting late. I still have to pack what I'm bringing with me and get ready for bed. Here we go as we embark on this incredible journey called life.