Wacked Out and Wired

It's Christmas break, and all is well -- I've had a great dose of family and frivolity, as well as a nice bit of laziness. I'm, therefore, reticent to blog much -- it takes angst to blog well, and my life is free of angst at the moment.

Well, there is one thing. My game, My Heroes Ability (MHA), on facebook is near death. Ever since my wedding, you can't even get onto play. We've raised a ruckus -- signing petitions and writing to Zynga (the evil company who bought the game and killed it) and so far, we've gotten platitudes back. Yes, we will try to fix the game -- no, you are not forgotten, and blah blah blah. Yesterday we got a popup saying it is being worked on, but this morning, I can't even get on to the game to check my wall for notes from my friends from around the world.

Before you go thinking it's all silly, let me tell you a story about my MHA friend Omar from the United Kingdom. On the Saturday before Christmas, Omar (O, the healer) instant messaged me on facebook and told me that his four-year old son was in isolation in the hospital with meningitis. He just woke up all loopy, and Omar rushed him to the hospital. Now, a week and a half later, his son is in a sleep-induced coma and still in isolation, having troubles breathing on his own. Talk about an eye opener...and Omar was reaching out to me because I also have children. He is all alone, as his wife left them when the baby was small.

THAT is the kind of relationships I've formed on that silly game. And Omar has helped me to appreciate what I have this holiday season.

Back to RL (real life). I'm content. Life is good. My hubby loves me, and that's all I can ask for. My children are busy and vibrant and healthy as we head into the new year, and we shall enjoy our traditional fondue New Year's Eve party -- minus Son #1 who has plans with friends. Son #1 is my only angst, really, as I never get to fucking see him. It's not his fault, really -- he is just enjoying his own life and I'm glad he has good friends to bring in the new year.

Oh, by the way, the 2008 yearbooks arrived right before the holiday break. They are beautiful, and aside from a few complaints, I think we did a smash up job. We had to distribute them in a different way, which caused me stress, but it worked out okay. Ranae and Kiwi are to be commended for working their asses off for this book -- thank god for dedicated kids who have a common mission.

So, guess the coffee has kicked in, and I feel wacky and wired this morning. Now I just need a new photoshopping project or something to keep this hyper-active brain calm. Maybe I'll start to read that Twilight book i've had for months, or maybe I'll clean up the upstairs office. Or maybe I'll just sit here and clickety clackety all day.

I have options, and I have time. This feeling is truly glorious....think I'll just sit back and enjoy for a second before life starts happening again.

Best Laid Plans

Well, the wedding was a total bust. Facebook had server errors for the entire two hours, so I spent most of the time clicking on busted links. Fun.....NOT.

Plus, the dohickey to upload pictures to your profile was broken the entire day, so nobody could dress up in Phoon photos, so I got no wedding pics with Phoons in them. That was the entire purpose of the wedding -- to get everybody into Phoons.

*heavy sigh*

Oh well, Liana, my friend from Wisconsin, did get a pic of everybody trying to participate in the raid. Tool Time Tim, my MHA hubby, is in the center, doing a Phoon in front of an elephant. He had uploaded his picture earlier, so he's the only one in costume. I'm in the top row, second in from the left with my LivelyLibra picture on. The rest of the pics are people in my group; they showed up in full force and had fun killing my hubby the whole two hours.

Ok. Enuf of this.

On to real life: my hubby is talking politics and the economy, again, this morning. We are hopeful that the new administration will be able to sort this current mess out and save us from ourselves. Check out change.gov -- Obama's attempt to have transparent government.

The kids are doing well, son #1 is busy as ever, but we spent quality time at Thanksgiving, and will have a few days around New Years to hang out, so all is well there. Son #2 is having a grand time on his early Christmas present -- a brand new laptop computer.

And finally, school is going well. Haven't heard about the damn 08 books, but I'm prepared to deal with all the complaints....by ignoring the fuckers. Sign up for yearbook class, which currently has openings, to help us get the 09 books out the door faster.

And finally, I've been chatting still with Jedi and Pi, and they are still great great kids. Both kicking ass in college, but Jedi has really felt the pressure this semester -- cellular biology is one tough course, and a neurosciences degree ain't easy.

Ranae is doing well in school, too, and is a college newspaper photographer. But she wants to come back home next year and be closer to her boyfriend and family. . . she'll excel wherever she goes, so I'm not worried about her.

All in all, I'm not worrying....7 school days until our two-week Christmas vacation, or Winter Break to be more politically correct.

Bring it on.

Wedding Plans

I'm getting married, again. This is the fun of online games: one can play play play and have fantasy weddings and cut open heads and heal others with no guilt.

On my game (My Heroes Ability on Facebook) we have theme raids where peoples get all dressed up and we go and kick some ass. My wedding will be Saturday, and I've invited most of the active groups on the game, so we'll see if we get a large crowd.

I hope to get some screen-captured pictures of everyone dressed up with a Phoon photo....my future hubby, Tool Time, is a phooner too, and that's how we met. Then he introduced me to this addictive game, and the rest is history.

Ok. That's enough mumbo jumbo for today. It's colder than hell and I have to get ready for the day. Reality bites sometimes.

So, if you are confused, good. Just know that I'm turning into the biggest online geek this side of the Mississippi.

But, I'm combining reality with fantasy; I used photoshop to create this wedding invite -- all by myself! That's something I couldn't have done six months ago......so go me.

Dancing Nekkid

I've been doing a lot of nekkid dancing in chat rooms lately, and have been far too busy to blog.

Ok. That's crap. I have been hanging out in chat rooms, and I have been cavorting with young professionals from around the world. In these chat rooms, flirting sometimes happens. It's all innocent flirting, more like creative writing. Someone will slap someone around a bit with a large trout, then someone else will get sad and go off in the corner needing some cuddles. It's all very innocent and quite fun when you have a whole snow day to play.

I haven't been too busy to blog, more like too damn lazy. Plus, my head seems to be in a good place so I have very little to bitch about. I have a good anti-depressant cocktail now, thanks to the old shrink. My classes are all going very well, except for the continued technology problems that plague us.

The 2008 yearbook isn't in yet, but I'm hoping it will be here by Christmas break so all the college kids can come back and get theirs. If not, oh well, no sweat off my balls. See, I just don't seem to care...

/me dances nekkid in the corner.

See how much more fun it is to dance than it is to whine about real life?

Relationships

I need to become the love doctor.

Relationships are the heart and soul of my existence, as well as the bread and butter of my career. One thing I've learned about myself is that if my love life is in shambles, I can't function. I shut down -- space out -- give up. Luckily, my love life has been strong and solid for many many years now, and I rarely have to feel like that.

But my students are another story: they are in the experimentation phase of their lives, and love so deeply at that age that every break up seems like it's the end of the world. I have both girls and boys crying and aching after relationships end -- they can't function either. I counsel and I hug, but I can't truly help their heart aches, which hurts my heart at times.

Love. What a concept. I know of a doctoral program in San Francisco where I could get a Ph.D. in Sexuality....for a mere $12 grand. I keep thinking I need to write the penultimate teenage love novel, or a guidebook for teens to natigate their hearts better. Nobody talks about it, but it seems to be the guiding force in our lives.

Hmmmm. Maybe I have a future in that.

Dr. Bleu to the rescue....stay tuned.

For Chris

I have hope. Americans elected the first half-black president, which is progress. I cannot believe how overtly racist some Americans were during this election, and how fear and hate drove their campaign in the end.

I also have hope in my personal life. I had a health scare this week, starting when I mysteriously got dizzy and fell on my butt. It ended with a CT scan that turned out negative (which means I have NO brains, I think) and a diagnosis of a "virus" attached to my nerves. I'm taking icky medicine that makes me sleepy and have cotton mouth, but it's better than the dizzies.

We also put the damned 08 yearbook to bed this week, which is very very good. We will get it before Christmas break, I hope. I'm only the LAST yearbook to be published at our plant this year -- but I like distinctions like that. I'm the worst, the laziest, the most tardy yearbook in the land!

Next week is gonna be a bitch though: have parent conferences late on Monday, have deadline night for newspaper on Tuesday, and then an extended day of teaching on Wednesday. I'll be ready for turkey break fer sure.

Tonight I get to have the gray roots of my hair died, which is always fun hanging out with my Auntie Suzie. It takes her forever to do, but she is family so I'll give her my business as long as she has her shop open.

There, Chris....I blogged! Not too fucking exciting, but it's at least some progress...

We can always hope that I'll get off my lazy butt in the future!

14-hour days

When I wake up on newspaper deadline night, I fear the upcoming 14-hour day. But I know I'll have fun and time will fly, so it's basically a wash.

I like hanging out with the juniors and seniors who are on newspaper: they are a really eclectic group of students who are dedicated to this paper. They play too much and work too little most of the time, but that's to be expected. It's the play time that they'll remember years from now: and it's what helps me bond with them in a way that astounds me sometimes.

Plus, they end up putting out a pretty good quality newspaper, in spite of the occasional drama and in spite of the occasional tears. Journalism is an intense media -- and deadline night brings out the best and worst of some kids.

Ok. Time to get ready for the eternal day from hell. It's only the hours that make it so bad, plus the fact that the couch is gone and I won't get no chill time.

Oh well. The press must go on.

Goals Reached

I have been obsessed for the past six months with a goal. A goal to hit the magic level 80 on My Heroes Ability on Facebook.

This picture proves that i just achieved my goal this morning, after cutting open some heads.

The only problem is that many of my group members get bored after they reach 80 and group hop. I am not going to group hop, I am going to stay a Spirit -- the second most feared group on the game.


As stated previously, /me is a big geek. But it's fun to reach goals. Now if I could just get the yearbook done from last year, things would be good.

Priorities.

Nicotine Replacement Therapy

I quit smoking cigarettes for the hundredth time yesterday. And I'm cranky.

Last time I quit it lasted for 3 years, so I know I can live life without the fuckers. But I'm tired.

Slept for 15 hours yesterday trying to avoid the cravings. Woke up wanting to smoke. Writing in short phrases with no subjects. Ugh.

I know I shall persevere. But in the meantime, here i sit, sucking on tampon-looking nicotrol inhalers that cost us $200. Fucking insurance won't pay to help you quit smoking; they'd rather pay for your lung cancer because in the end it means a shortened lifespan.

I don't want to be a statistic. But I don't want to be an addict anymore, again, and/or forever.

Oops....one day at a time, or in my case -- one second at a time. Breathe in....breathe out.

Waa waa waa, poor me.

Open a New Window; Open a New Door

I feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel good (doodle ooo doodle ooo).

Sing it like James Brown.

It's amazing when the cloud lifts: the cloud of the stomach flu and the cloud of being a woman.

Seriously. By Wednesday I felt so much better; I was joking around with kids again, I could put two brain cells together and check papers, and I wasn't having "the chills" every 30 minutes.

Ok. Enough about me. Now that I feel better perhaps I can blog about other things....like how we STILL aren't done with the damn yearbook from last year....like how proud I am of Ranae for being a university photographer and getting paid for it....and how I'm noticing a Freshman Fatigue happening in almost all of my students who go off to college.

My former students are having a hard time transitioning from being big whigs to being nobodies, I think. The American High School is structured so seniors rule: they work hard for 3 years so they can have open campus privileges, they work hard so they excel in athletics and activities and they get rewarded for every thing they do.

Then, enter college life: moving into a big unfriendly dorm with thousands of other students, starting the academic career in big lectures with no personal contact from professors, and all the while trying to figure out who the hell they are. No wonder they freak out; some from the work load and some from not making friends as fast as they'd like and some from partying too much or too little.

I can't remember which musical it's from, but i do remember singing this line over and over one summer when I was teaching Upward Bound: Open a new window, open a new door....travel a new highway that's never been traveled before! (editors note: a simple google search shows this is from the musical Mame.)

But in traveling those new highways, we leave behind our security. In order to open new windows we have to close old ones, and aye, there's the rub. I wish my former students didn't have to cross those thresholds....those life thresholds that make us more mature but zap the kid out of us concurrently.

Alas, that's the rich tapestry of life....going from being sick to being well and going from being dependent to independent. I just wish the journey didn't have to be so painful.

PMS Culprit

Turns out I had the most notorious of all afflictions: PMS. This must be what aging is all about -- raging hormones and raging sickness during THAT time of the month. Fun fun fun. So it wasn't in my head, totally. It was also in my uterus. That glorious uterus: the one that allows me to find things around the house that the boys can't find; the one that allowed me to birth two healthy sons; the one that makes me feel sicker than a dog once a month.

So I'm off to work today feeling like hell. It's getting colder too, which is making my brain do loopy loops. What a combination: PMS bitch from hell meets Depressive bitch from hell.

Watch out kids -- should be an interesting day in my classroom...and an interesting winter.

Morning Barfs

I woke up after a 12-hour slumber puking and pooping. I used to puke almost daily from stress, but I've gotten that calmed down. I think I'm really sick, but I'm not sure. Nonetheless, I called in sick and I'm glad as I haven't been able to be too far away from the toilet.

As a teacher, it's often easier to just go to school than to leave sub plans and worry all day. But we're at the point of the semester where I've got the kids trained well: they are all working independently on projects and don't need me much. OK. They might need me, but are gonna have to tough it out for a day.

Maybe I'll attack that pile of stories that still sits there menacingly. Maybe I'll put away that pile of clothes that stares at me when I wake up. Maybe hell will freeze over.

Wish I were pregnant. Then I'd know why I barf. But that's impossible, as hubby's been fixed and my eggs are drying up as I type.

Oh well, why ask why? It's just me: it's part of who I am, what my brain is, and where I am in life. Either that or I simply got the flu.

Midnight Trivia

Well, the birthversary day went very well. We ended up having too much conversation and not enough action, but we can rectify that any day of the year!

I was up playing trivia in my chatroom until about 1 AM -- and I won! I was also uploading a youtube video for son #2 (Born to be Wild), creating a powerpoint presentation for hubby AND chatting with various peeples. I would say I am evolving like a pokemon: and using my powers for good, not evil.

Now I've got to attack that HUMONGOUS pile of papers that has accumulated over the past two weeks, but I don't wanna. I could plan for engaging classroom lessons 24/7, but those dern papers just sit and stare at me menacingly. My depression doesn't help that, the piles in my life accumulate in proportion to how my mental health is doing. I'm worried right now about the intrusion of the law into our lives, so I'm grinding my teeth at night and waking up in a panic at times.

It's ironic sometimes how things can be both the best of times and the worst of times. How life can be rolling along smoothly, then it hits a roadbump and you're turned upside down.

Oh well, I know that Robert Redford was The Sundance Kid, and that President John F. Kennedy was killed on November 22, 1963, and that I can kick ass on oldies trivia when I'm playing with a room full of younger people. That'll have to be enough for today.

BIG 10-4

Today is a glorious day: my birthday, my husbands birthday, and our 10th wedding anniversary.

We are going to be lazy all day, and celebrate aging and love.

And in honor of this day, my game on Facebook is going to have a special raid for me. I made this avatar (below) for the occasion.

/me is a geek.

But I've mentioned that before. So, if you're around at 8 PM EST, you can join us in fighting heroes...

And, as always, I hope to get a little less conversation and a little more action this evening....nuff said.

Ten years ago, we were on a cruise ship in the Caribbean, making a baby. Here we were then (above).

I won't post a current picture....it's too depressing how much I've aged. Ten years of happiness, mixed in with a little stress now and then to keep things lively, have aged me. Hubby is still looking good though, he just gets distinguised while I get older.

All in all, I hope today is a good day. No sheriff and no stress.

Cross your fingers.

Worried, all over again

It looks like we are still fighting the law, and the law will probably win. I'm worried about our situation -- best case scenario is that hubby's name won't be mentioned in the paper again and he won't be charged. Worst case scenario is that hubby's crime will be plastered all over the papers and he will do jail time and lose his job. Meanwhile, we wait for the Sheriff's car to pull in the driveway to deliver a subpoena...

...fun.


Not.

Getting it...

I think I am finally getting it. Getting life, getting school, and most of all -- getting that damn software that caused me so much stress all the way through the original Thresholds...

The Adobe Creative Suite CS3 is what I'm talking about: inDesign, Photoshop and Illustrator are the programs we mainly use in putting together the yearbook and newspaper. I can do enough on those programs now to problem solve and to teach them. I think I even know enough on my home computer to capture the screens and windows and make handouts of how to use them...and that is a big fucking deal.

I played yesterday with inDesign and made a double page spread of our phoons from Graceland. I actually had FUN doing it; my brain didn't split apart into millions of shreds like it has in the past. (See Above) And in order to post it here, I had to package it and export it into a jpeg. I messed up a bit, and the text boxes are stroked instead of the pictures, but I'm learning.

The getting "life" part is a bit harder to describe in words: I get what it takes to make a good marriage now. I get what it takes to be a good parent, not a friend. I get what it takes to be a good teacher, AND a buddy. I only wish I could get the part where my mental stability and general well-being are concerned.

But the best news, is while I might or might not "get it", I surely am on the right path.

Numbness and Wellness

Woke up early today on account of a vivid dream....I had just been told that I had terminal cancer and I had to tell my family. It was realistic and I felt in my heart that I was going to die...and I was fine with it.

On the one hand, it would be a relief to check out early....and in reviewing my "accomplishments" I would say that I've helped others to achieve their potential. How many people can say that? As a teacher, I get the opportunity to truly further my students...to smile at them, to laugh with them, and to cry with them.

On the other hand, I'm not done yet. I have more children to nurture, including my own. My boys aren't grown up yet, and they both need me to provide my whacky mothering skills until they reach adulthood. And hopefully beyond.

I don't have a death wish; I'm sure my dream was as a result of a young colleague of mine who's husband has aggressive brain cancer. There is a benefit for him coming up soon. But I do feel life is hard at times, when my depressive thoughts seep in, and it might be nice just to rest. A permanent rest. A deep, satisfying rest.

But other than that, all is well. I am well, Mentally and physically, i am thriving. I am truly loving my job this year: I finally feel like I know what the fuck I'm doing. I have lots to learn, but I have the fundamentals down and am teaching the hell out of these kids. High standards and high energy and low stress -- that's what I strive for.

I think I might go into my darkroom this weekend to relax. But then again, I might just sit here and play on the puter all day. Either way, I'm doing well putting stress behind me and putting fun in the forefront.

So I'm numbly well.

Told you so...

The economy is tanking. We told you so....

Mental Update

I saw my shrink last week. He asked how I was sleeping, and I said fine, now that I've started drinking wine. He then asked how my weight was doing, and I said fine, now that I've started smoking again.

So, he upped my meds.

That's the answer to everything: more anti-depressants. Oh well, I'll take them dutifully and start to get a bit numbed out to the world...it's fucking better than being all anxiety ridden and thinking the world is just too damn big.

I feel fine, truly, and haven't had the Mondays quite so badly, well, not really at all I guess -- so THAT's good. But he warned that it might take longer to reach orgasm. SHIT. Already takes forever. TMI? I don't care.

See, the meds help me say, "Fuck it."

But what I don't understand is, my home life is awesome and I'm not really stressed out at work, except for the financial books and the damn yearbook, so why do I still puke occasionally in the mornings and why can't I sleep sometimes, and why does my brain do flip-flops on itself?

Oh well. Fuck it.

School Update

Well, we were dead on with the economy worries last week: it tanked in big ways this week, and could tank more over the next few weeks.

But this entry will focus on school. I don't want to jinx it, but knock on wood, everything is going remarkably smoothly. I know what I'm doing with my software for the most part, the basics anyway, and my new hardware is cooperating, except for the occasional glitch and one hard drive that tanked the first day and is lost in the tech underworld.

I have 20 students enrolled with 14 computers next term, but my fearless department-head guy named Gurnie is gonna try and help me with that. Oops, I inadvertently started bitching.

Kids are well behaved and attentive and charming. Seriously, I don't have one kid this term that I dread seeing every day: yes, we teachers are human and do have favorites and klunkers. Kiwi is plugging away on last year's yearbook, but the card company still won't return my phone calls, emails or hard copy mailings. So this book might not come out until Christmas.....oh well, no sweat off my uterus. The kids are used to it by now, and nobody complains very loudly to me.

My former students are still keeping in touch too. Jedi is kicking ass in college, but worried about his beautiful girlfriend who has comprehension problems and a wee bit of depression. Ranae is wanting to come back home at semester, but maybe now that she's a college photographer for the newspaper she will be hooked into the culture a bit more and find herself.

I talked with Rachmo via Skype last weekend and she is a beautiful tatooed young woman who is my soul mate. I can live vicariously through her, and pretend I am still wild and free. Pyroman and I talk often too via gmail chat, and he's busy hacking computer systems and using his talents for evil, as usual. I haven't heard hide nor hair of Steakboy for months, but heard he's having continuing health problems and women problems...I love that boy extra much but he's too busy for me these days it seems. I bombarded him with emails yesterday though, so we'll see if he responds.

I also talk to other students: Tood, the cool Mexican dood who hasn't quite found his niche in life yet; Mr. TV Man, the high school graduate turned producer for a local TV station, who is turning conservative on me again; Vancent, who bought a Harley and is coming over to hang with us a bit this week; and KFin, my little waif of a friend who I need to call soon, as she demands it occasionally.

Smooth shift so far, as my hubby's friend says. That's all I really want, is smooth shifts in life. Is that too much to ask?

What goes around...

On this fine Sunday morning, Elvis is crooning gospel tunes in the background and my husband is waxing philosophic about politics. All is normal.

But what he's saying is a bit unnerving. If one believes that history repeats itself, then we are headed toward another great depression or major economic collapse. The government just bailed out two major mortgage companies, and people are losing their homes at record rates. The so-called war in Iraq has made our national debt the worst in history. China owns us. Period.

In 1933, President Roosevelt said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Now, the Republicans tell us daily that we have to be afraid. We can't be weak on "terror." What the fuck? Oh well, we just need to kill all brown people, is what the masses are really saying.

Speaking of that, I know people who don't want Barack Obama to win the election because he'll just get assassinated. Other people who are mildy racist are becoming full blown racist now that a HALF black man is up for President. The KKK is becoming more active again. I wanna puke.

Is this 1950? Are we gonna keep all brown people in their place, or are we going to embrace our fellow humans?

I wish things didn't go around so predictably. I'm not that smart and I can see it.

This has been your Sunday morning public service announcement.

The Middle

I feel like I'm in the middle of lots of stuff right now. I'm in the middle of my life, to start. I will turn 45 in a month, and I am starting to feel my age. I am comfortable with it all, not trying to avoid aging -- but I would like life to slow down a bit. Seems each day blends into the next, and then a year goes by.

I'm also in the middle of last year's yearbook. I can't get a return letter from the playing card company -- and we need that release so they can print our cover. We have 51 pages left to final, and it's slow going. Ranae isn't going to be in town until homecoming, and we better have this book done by then. Kiwi is plugging away on it, and we plan to work late next week a day to try to get 'er done.

Finally, I'm in the middle of a dilemma: should I retire from this job or start trying to be an educational consultant? What do I wanna do with the next 20 years of my career? What is my "spiel?" Should I get back into sexuality education? Should I stick with journalism? And should I then go for my doctorate degree?

Hmmmmm. I also woke up in the middle of the night thinking about these things...and I've been upping my meds as per the advice of my shrink.

Oh well, I guess it's better to live life in the middle than always judging how it ends. How will my life end? Will I have achieved all my goals? Will I have made an impact on others?

Hope I can blog in heaven or hell, wherever I end up.

Member of the Week

See? This job has indirectly turned me into the biggest geek on the planet.

I've been playing this game so much on facebook that I got voted member of the week by my peers.

How fucking cool is THAT?

I sit here, safely tucked into my rocking chair in my office, clicking away, healing people who get messed up in battle zones, and chatting with the cool people in the chatroom -- meeting wonderful young professionals and students from literally around the world.

I have friends in California, Florida, Malaysia, Brazil, UK, and even close friends from Indiana, Wisconsin and South Dakota.

Ahhhh, it's fun to be a member of something, and it's fun to go into a chatroom "where everybody knows your name."

/me is a big geek.

Laboring on Labor Day

Well, the Allister test failed. His poetry has much more interesting spacing, and his word documents don't transfer to blogspot well. But Allister is not a failure, in fact, he will be famous some day. I love how full of passion and angst his poetry is. More on him later.

For today, I get to go into school on my day off. Ranae and Kiwi and I are gonna crank out some pages this morning, cuz we gots to get this fucking book done.

We have pages to send off, we have pages to proof, and we have pages to create. I have brand new PC computers to start the new yearbook with, but we have to finish the old on the two old macs.

So I'm psycho. Finish the 08 yearbook and start the 09 yearbook simultaneously, run two businesses who need money badly, and teach a full load of classes.

But I'm not dreaming about it. I am not obsessing about it. I have found a balance, I think. I'll only know when I look back at this period in retrospect.

Meanwhile, I shall labor for a few hours, then come home and sit on my ass and fight heroes on facebook. That has been my escape for the past few months. That's how I found Allister.

Allister...

...is my friend who writes poetry. This is a test. This is only a test.

Lustful Synapses

I have empted the bin

that barely had

enough room

I could squeeze in

beside your screams

hardly knew

that you could speak

outside of saw blades

against my nerves

it’s the crackle

snap

or the crunch,

and sometimes

sluck, sluck, sluck.

oh shit

did we touch?

I can’t remember

Did you impress my sensation rod?

I cherish the ones that can

there is a podium where they all

wait to be visited

sitting cross-legged

holding themselves

small so more can

be slushed onto the center

reinvoked a lustful steam

of memory flashy

and back to intensity

of sensation

the outward upsurge

of stiffing

that is a recall to moment

both tingling and exuberant

the crackle of our synapses

snap of the bed springs

the crunch of foil

and the sluck, sluck, sluck

of one entering another

The Approaching End

All regimes come to an end, and the passing of the torch from one yearbook staff to the next is like the end of an empire. In this case, Ranae, the current editor-in-chief, has been on staff for 3 years...she is like my niece (not a daughter, she has a perfectly capable mother) and best friend too. We confide in each other, and we work together very well. She has been coming in for a couple hours every day she can, but she juggles several jobs and friends and so we haven't been putting in the marathon hours we have needed to do in order to get this book done.

That's probably why I haven't blogged very much. I'm trying very hard not to care that the book is in bad shape....still haven't resolved the cover copyright problem, have a bunch of pages here to proof and send back, and there are still completely BLANK pages that were blown off by previous staff members...and Ranae's going off to college on Wednesday.

That means Kiwi, the new editor-in-chief, will have to take over and finish the book. AND SHE COULDN'T FIT YEARBOOK INTO HER SCHEDULE THIS YEAR. The girl is involved in everything, valedictorian with hard classes, and she just couldn't fit it in. But she still wants to do the job, so we squeezed in an independent study class in the mornings, where she will be able to slowly make progress on the book.

The new yearbook staff will begin proofing last year's yearbook on the second day of class...and I hope to get it done before my birthday, which is 10-4. That's how late we were my first year here. The school is getting used to not getting their books until Thanksgiving, so I'm trying very hard not to get my tummy in knots and avoid sleepless nights.

I am doing a very good job.

I think.

The Vacation Entry

Due to the lack of wireless internet at the Heartbreak Hotel in Memphis, TN, this vacation will be covered in a retrospective manner instead of a daily report format like I had intended.

One word: AWESOME. We had a blast, no major glitches combined with Southern hospitality and clear blue skies for 5 glorious days made for a great vacation. Our pilgrimage was successful in every sense of the word. Elvis lives in Memphis Tennessee, as the billboards around town remind you frequently.

The photo is a montage I scanned of our tickets and maps, etc. We did Memphis in three days, and our heads were full of music and images until our brains hurt. Soul, Blues and Rock and Roll permeated our senses at the hotel, museums and gift shops.

Graceland was glorious and serene. People who say it is gaudy and touristy have corn cobs up their butts. Sure there are lots of tourist traps, but we did our share of buying trinkets: shot glasses, sun glasses, purse, key chains, trays, coasters, guitar tabs, stickers and even a zippo lighter for the 9-year-old. Yes, I'm an excellent mother.

My husband loves Elvis, so this was a perfect vacation for us. He was happy and aside from having heart attacks at how expensive everything was, he lived a dream in a sense. He's been rocking to Elvis music since he was a small child, and truly worships his memory. We learned so much about the man behind the music -- now hubby can really be a Cliff Clavin about Elvis.

And returning home was as remarkable as the vacation. I love the feeling of relaxation after a good vacation -- one that cleanses the soul and refreshes the body.

Enough waxing philosophical: we had a damn good time.

84 Pages

We submitted 84 pages today! Woo Hoo!

We can use our original cover, if we sign our lives away! Woo Hoo!

We have a plan for kicking the asses of those who are not showing up to help! Woo Hoo!

Ah, the glamorous life of a journalism teacher.

Hope

Ranae and I are going to kick ass today and submit over 70 pages to the plant. All I gotta do is get off my butt and take a shower and get there. That is much harder for me to do than one would think: I hate showering. I'd rather sit around in my own stench than hop in the shower. I like being clean; I just hate the process of getting there. In the winter, it's too damn cold when you get out. In the summer, I'm just too damn lazy.

Well, I have hope for the day. We heard back from the card company and I am sending them the artwork today with the hopes they let us use our cover, that has been designed for 8 months now.

I heard yesterday that several seniors are refusing to come in and help; this frustrates me to no end -- it is THEIR book, not mine. I'm just thankful that Ranae is dedicated and works whenever she can. And I hope that next year our online software makes it so we can meet deadlines and I don't have to work all fucking summer.

Hope springs eternal.

The More Things Change...

...the more they stay the same, is how the old adage goes, I think.

I've been going through old photos and scanning them and making these little movies with music and credits and everything. I'm applying what I've learned on the job the past 3 years and actually doing something productive.

I've restored old photos, and preserved many memories well into the future. It feels good.

But I've noticed that even though I appear to be aging rapidly when I look at photos from ten years ago...I feel the same. The same insecurities I had when I was in high school; the same hatred of my body; the same longing to be loved. But I guess I've been lucky -- damn lucky -- in that department. I'm happily married which is more than I can say for most people I know. I love my husband and he loves me.

So I guess I hope that I age gracefully, and can document the day I stop dying my gray hairs with aplomb.

Here's Son #1, newborn, and Sydney Vicious, the wifed haired fox terrier. I took this photo with my old black and white manual camera, and scanned it yesterday. It had a big rip in the middle, but I fixed it as best I could.

I've made progress. I should celebrate. Go Me.

Hey Baby, It's the Fourth of July

That is an excellent song by the band "X" if you ever get a chance to check it out. I tried to find it on youtube to include it here, but the name is impossible to search.

I found it!!!! Well, an excerpt of it anyway.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=6N-c0tnasTE

OK. Now I can relax. I'm into making movies too. . .as of yesterday. Here's my cow Phoon video:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=-oWBum4PtYw

Ok. That's the technological end of this fourth of July holiday. I got sun burnt, is the non-technological story of the parade we attended in a suburb of the capital city of this fine state. Son #1 plays the bari-sax, and he marched in this parade; and niece-in-law did gymnastics in it, so we had the motivation; but the parade sucked. I didn't feel it. We are not going to see fireworks tonight, so I don't have my usual fourth of July routine.

Bah humbug.

So what is this holiday about, I was thinking to myself as I was talking to my cyber-friends from around the world whilst playing games...should I bring it up? Is the US' name mud after Bush and his shenanigans? I opted to not. I'm embarrassed to be an American now....we need help, and soon.

"On the stairs I smoke a
cigarette alone
Mexican kids are shootin'
fireworks below
Hey baby, it's the Fourth of July
Hey baby, it's the Fourth of July"

Too Much Coffee

I'm peeing every 5 minutes and I'm all wound up with no place to go...I know better than to have two cups of coffee. I'm a one cup gal: except for sometimes when I'm feeling a little ornery.

I have an addictive personality, which one may have guessed from reading my innermost thoughts. Caffeine and uppers don't agree with my natural hyperness. Once, I accidentally overdosed on anti-depressants and I swore I'd never drink coffee again. I HATE being wound up and I need help calming down most of the time. Thus, the recent wine binges. Self-medicating is my middle name.

Actually, this pseudonym has no middle name. Just Delani Bleu. Period.

Didn't go into work today. Fuck it. No kids have shown up all week, except for the editor-in-chief, so why bother? I think a Christmas delivery on the yearbook is a nice, attainable goal.

Anybody up for a quick role-playing game? I'm up to level 67 in Mob Wars and level 57 on My Heroes Ability on Facebook. Yup. I'm a geek. Learned from the best. I still keep in touch, almost daily, with Pi, Shownarou, Jedi and Steakboy, plus KFin, MegaDick, Mexi-Boy and Rachmo...those kids will always have a special place in my heart.

Miscellaneous musings of an over-caffeinated brain.

Chapped Lips and a Canker Sore

Ah sheesh. I went in today and nobody showed up. Nadda. No one.

Some yearbook this is gonna be. We might break our old record of October 4th at this rate. I remember because it was my birthday. Sorry Ranae, I know you read this. Kiwi will have to finish it up on Marvin and the gooseneck.

What we've done is good, but this setback with the cover is bugging me. I've written to the company that we need copyright permission from, and I've emailed, and I've called, and all dead ends so far.

DAMN. FUCK. SHIT. PISS. HELL.

Sorry for that turrets moment.

And to top it off, I've got really chapped lips and a canker sore on my tongue. It's not fun, but I keep thinking I have tongue cancer like my step-dad. The odds would be against that, I figure. Maybe I'll go buy a lottery ticket.

Today I've been making music; burning CDs, downloading songs, lightscribing artwork on the CD....a little Foreigner Greatest Hits and Bodeans' Outside Looking In never hurt no one.

Fun with Photos

Just applying my new photoshopping skills:



I created the artwork for a group on facebook called SuperBitch & MegaDick: fighting the right-wing nuts at newstands near you.

All Dressed Up

Going to go sign the papers for the Cadillac. I got all dressed up.

We were going to buy a Saturn Vue Hybrid model, but they didn't have any. And oops, the Cadillac dealer is right next door...what's a poor girl to do?

Sunday AM and a New Caddy

Sunday mornings are great, when the whole family is here, and when you are playing with a new toy. We got a small suv yesterday, and it rocks. Fully loaded, originally stickered at $59,000 and after 3 years, we got it for $26,000. What a fucking deal.

It's sweet, fur sure. We will go to Memphis in style now. DVD player with wireless headphones in the back for the kids: OnStar and gps crap in front seat for me to play with, and BOSE damn speakers - w00t.

It cost more than our house, which is hilarious.

And I'm gonna get off my butt now and challenge Son #1 to a wii game of American Idol. Later, I'm going to check a stack of proofs that Ranae got done, and we're gonna submit a whole freaking load of pages to the plant soon. All is well.

Hmmmmm. Don't like it when that happens. Makes me think some impending doom is headed this way. Why is it always gloom and doom with me? Could be the gray skies we've had for several days. The state is already flooded, and we got torrential downpours the other day.

Ready, set, go: get off your ass now, woman.

Happy Hour

It's Friday and it's Happy Hour time...time for all American workers to stop work and start drinking. I don't officially go out anymore, that is for amateurs. I drink in house, and I drink cheap boxed wine, as previously mentioned. And I worked for 3 minutes today. HA. So there.

:P

I took an interesting picture of myself today with my trusty lappy. Here is Delani Bleu and Delani Bleu, a double self portrait. My mother painted the picture in the background of the picture when I was in high school, and the foreground is me, well, looking contemplative at age 44.

OK, looking old at age 44. Oh well, I don't care right at this moment, because it is HAPPY hour, remember?

We have been dealing with a young thief at our house over the past few weeks. I shall blog about Damien next. Yes, i said Damien. But today's topic is HAPPY hour, remember?

I have a mysterious cold sore on the other side of my tongue, and it only feels good if I stick out my tongue like a dog. Shit, today is about HAPPY hour, yeah yeah yeah.

Garçon, more wine?

Blood, Sweat and Tears

MKay, Stop reading now if you are squeamish: this entry is gonna be scatological.

First off, the blood: I am a woman on the verge of menopause, and thus, periods tend to become erratic, to say the least. This one hit me like a freight train, coming in the middle of the night and making me puke. Fun. I am woman, roar.

Second, the sweat: It's hot and our air conditioner has been broken for 3 years now. The daytimes are cool in our old 1920's house, but the evenings are hell. I'm sure hubby will get that new drain pan soon, along with the garbage disposal, bathroom sink and shower knobs. We have a few household projects piling up, and have the money just not the time. Or gumption, I guess.

Thirdly, the tears. As usual, they are for the yearbook. We got a nasty/nice letter from our publisher mentioning we've only submitted 27 pages so far, and are sitting on a batch of proofs. Ranae has been working this week while I've been unable to go in so far, but she's doing detail work and not getting pages submitted because of that. People still aren't coming in, and that whole list of things I thought I could deal with is still there...and I am not dealing. I'm about to bawl like a wet baby.

*Heavy Sigh*

Battle of the Bands, Part II

Well, I'm glad my agoraphobia didn't get the best of me tonight. I judged our local Battle of the Bands again this year and nobody made fun of me (to the best of my knowledge.)

It was a completely different venue this time, out doors, and lots of adults who were drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. Last year it was in a teen club with about 50 kids and me, so this year, I didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

Whew.

And my intro was great again this year, if I don't say so myself. I wrote it earlier in the day so I wouldn't be put on the spot and choke:

From her days listening to AM stations on her transistor radio, Delani Bleu has been a music aficionado. Her love of music drew her to the piano first, then the drums, violin and finally vocals throughout her musical career. Her claim to fame is teaching Corey Taylor (of Slip Knot and Stone Sour) ninth grade English. She now teaches journalism and City High School, where she jams daily with her students.

So this year, mine was the longest intro, and instead of an annoying music professor there was a drunk, cigar-smoking fool as a fellow judge. There were four of us, and I took charge in the judges chambers and we made the decision in about 7 minutes, instead of the 30 it took last year.

Son #2 almost ruined the night because he didn't want to go and made me 20 minutes late, but he ended up getting a t-shirt, pizza and an autograph from the lead singer of The Postulates so he was happy. Plus, he ran to the tree and back in less than 20 seconds, breaking his previous world record.

Music is always a good soul soother.

When's Vacation?

Dang nabbit. Fuck. I want a vacation NOW.

I should have no complaints: I've been doing exactly what I wanted all day, I have good music in the background, I feel harmonious and balanced. But yet I feel restless. Not melancholy -- restless.

I've got the Graceland vacation all planned and reserved, well, most of it. Here's the banner we have hanging up in our house for the next month until our ETD.

It's fucking 6 foot long, and I bought it for the new Saturn Hybrid Vue we are about to buy...but as you can see, it's a bit too big. I'm really bad with dimensions.

But I feel agorophobic sometimes and don't want to go. Whew. There, I said it. I like being home. I like feeling grounded and knowing where the kitchen and bathrooms are.

Could also be that I wanted to get that yearbook done before I left, but there ain't no way in hell it's going to be. We gotta put in extra hours, which we have planned already, so I just need to refuckinglax.

So, when's vacation?

A New Day...

It's funny what a 4 hour nap and a good night's sleep can do for a person. I woke up refreshed and ready to face the day. I am gonna KICK that yearbook's ass today, and I am gonna like it.

We're having a copyright issue with our cover art, of which I shall deal.

We're behind in submitting pages big time, of which I shall deal.

We're late in returning corrected proofs, of which I shall deal.

We haven't seen some folks yet at all, of which I shall deal.

So, whatever happens today, I think I can deal.

The Mondays on a Tuesday

I get the Mondays. I might have discussed this previously, but I am mildly bi-polar and I have swings every damn Monday. Unless the start of my week is Tuesday, in which case I get the Mondays on a Tuesday.

Take notes: there WILL be a quiz.

Mkay. The current brain cocktail includes uppers (Lexapro), downers (Abilify) and over the counter tummy medicine, due to prickish insurance policies that prevent me from getting my little purple pill. These keep me calm, and work especially well in the summer months. Nothing helps some of those winter months.

So back to today, Tuesday disguised as a Monday, because I have given myself Mondays off this summer to avoid said syndrome. So I went into work and immediately felt like leaving. I DID NOT WANT TO BE THERE. I survived for an hour, then escaped to Walgreens to buy toilet paper and a fingernail repair kit. Back for an hour and then gone. So I worked for a total of two hours. Waa waa, poor me. But I felt it creep up on the way home...that insidious voice inside my head that makes me feel as if the world is just too damn big and complicated.

It was a little voice though, not a big booming voice, so that's good. But I still think I'm gonna take a nap.

Avoiding Bras

Bras in any season are oppressive. Bras in the summer should be downright illegal for being hazardous to your health.

I avoid them at all costs; never wear one at home and wear big t-shirts or shirts with little strapped shirts instead of bras when i go into work. I only have two that I like anyway. I hate underwires and prefer training-like bras. I am not hugely endowed, so that makes it easy.

Why wasn't I alive earlier in the century so I could have joined in the bra burnings of the 70's. I hadn't hit puberty yet. Alas, I miss all the good stuff.

Maybe I should go into Victoria's Secret and buy a couple really nice bras. Then I might not want to avoid them so much.

Or they could invent one that was more damn comfortable, or I could lose weight. But that's the first place I lose it, so I'm not keen on that idea.

Bras and boobs on a Sunday evening. How's that for random?

Reminiscing About a Couch

The couch is gone. The couch I blogged about in Part I...the dreaded, wonderful couch.

Rachmo cut Jordizzle's hair on that couch; we drug Steakboy to that couch when he was having one of his infamous spells, and I took the infamous snooze during yearbook on that couch that Mr. Head Human Resources Guy pointed out during our disciplinary conference.

Ahhhhhhh. Memories.

But I had to get rid of it to pave the way for technology... no more laptops; instead, we get desktops. My already crowded room is going to be even more crowded once the conversion from Mac to PC takes place.

And no more wintery naps between work and parent conferences; when most teachers can run home and DO something, I'll be stuck at work with no couch cuz I'm a commuter.

So I think I used to hate that couch, but now I want it back. Or do i just want Rachmo, Jordizzle and Steakboy back?

Friday the 13th is preceded by Thursday the 12th

Tomorrow is Friday the 13th and Son #2 turns 9. We expect bad luck tomorrow: supposed to rain, half the family won't travel this far, half his friends don't like each other and they didn't have WWE decorations for his cake.

But today is actually a bad luck day too, so are the odds in my favor that tomorrow won't be so bad? What happened today you wonder from my foreshadowing? Well, nothing. Nothing happened at yearbook this morning, except Ranae was there working her rear off as she has been the past few days. Nobody showed up. Nadda. Except for Shownarou, who graduated last year, and who has come in to save the day a few times. I guess I do have good graduates that help when they can, and for that I am lucky.

I do have a about 50 pages to proof tonight, which is good. But I went through the Spring Play spread and it sucks big; too many spelling errors to have by the time it gets to me.

And Hubby just showed me two big old welts on the side of his swollen glands -- not a good sign of things to come. Grrrrr.

Lazy Summer Days

I've already started to forget what day it is...which is extremely good. My Principal said to take some time away from work and have a summer. I cannot do that, but I can enjoy my limited schedule (2 to 4 hours a day) and enjoy the feeling of losing yourself in laziness in the afternooons.

Son #2 has already gotten into the groove...he hangs out all day with his buddies in this wonderful small town of around 1,000 people. We can trust that he's going to avoid trouble (so far) and the town is his. He ripsticks, bikes, scooters and walks miles each day and is building solid skills in avoiding the troublemakers.

My husband; however, doesn't enjoy summer so much. He has to maintain this house and property, his mother's house and farm, and teach summer government. He's busy all the time, but getting better at being cranky about it.

Son #1 is off making memories of his own in a far off town with his father. He's involved in cross country, jazz band, jazz choir, show choir, music lessons and hanging with his friends. I'm involved in never seeing him.

Bitter much?

Oh well, I got lots to keep me busy. The yearbook has a life of its own, my internet connection is slower than normal because of a new wireless router, and it's time to wake up Son #2 to head off to the big city and get to work.

Oh, and I get my gray roots died brown today, which always makes me feel younger and more chipper. Gotta be chipper on these lazy summer days: I have to savor the memories to last me all the long, depressive winter.

Premium Unleaded

This is the song I was referring to in the last post. It's by The Postulates, a local high school band who rocks. They will be famous. You can say you heard it here first!

Premium Unleaded

Magical Evening

Every so often you have one of those nights where the stars are aligned and magic happens. My boys and I went to the IndieFest concert and experienced good music, fine company and no tornados. Son #2 got some merch: a CD and a keychain, plus some ice cream from the ice cream truck, so he was hap hap happy. He couldn't believe that he was only 3 feet away from the guy he bought the CD from when they were on stage -- his eyes were wide and his heart was open to the music, and my favorite local band did not disappoint. We were down front in the mosh pit and were all singing the chorus as the winds whipped and the lightening threatened off in the distance.

It was glorious. Son #1 was there -- he's here for a whirlwind 14-hour visit, she says sarcastically. I'll take him whenever I can get him, and I'm glad we had a good time, but damn I'd like to see him more. But if you want quality, we had it last night.

And as the lyric goes, "I sold my soul, for a gallon of gasoline."

Phone Calls and Saturday Tunes

I've got to go in Monday and call all the kids who need to come in and work on the yearbook. I should send home schedules again too and put some heavy pressure on those long-lost kids.

Why do I worry about them all, even my editor-in-chief, on a Saturday? Ranae is great and wonderful and too damn busy. She's in charge of a pool at a country club, and the storms blew out her pump, so now she deals with that all the time, at the expense of yearbook. Plus, she's in love it appears and stays up too late. But it is summer, and what did I do the summer after I graduated high school? Had a torrid love affair and worked my ass off -- and I have some wonderful rocking chair memories of that summer...

So what should I do? Do the work myself? No way...that goes against all that I've been taught and all that I believe in. I am the "adviser" spelled with an e on purpose. That's what journalism teachers are: advisers -- not student workers. Even the state free-speech law says that "students shall assign and edit the news."

Kick their asses is what I'm gonna do.

But first, I'm going to pick up Son #1 later and head to an outdoor concert of local bands. Local Indie bands, that is. That should be fun, and the storms are supposed to surround us but stay away until tomorrow.

Teenage Analogy: Teenalogy

I hang out with teens all the time. Have been for 31 years, since I myself was a teen.

I've also lived without electricity off and on my whole life, during power outages and storms.

And therefore I'd like to propose this Teenalogy: A teenager's brain: the electricity being out::being bored: being bored.

I've lived it. I have experienced what it is like to be in a teenager's brain with a cell phone in your hand when you are truly bored, which is all the time. Yesterday, our power was out and I went nuts. Hubby was sick with a flu bug and we escaped to a hotel. But in the interim, while he was passed out and the boy was playing outside, I texted 10 former students this "Power out. Bored. Entertain me..." and they did! I sent 50 texts and got 45 back within about an hour. It was righteous fun. And, at 1:30 in the morning when tornado's were headed our way, I got 3 texts and a voicemail message and a call all warning us to take cover. Powerful technology.

So this Teenalogy is designed to help all of us beyond-peter-pan-age adults to remember what it's like to be a kid and to give them a break when they seem to live with their cell phones in their hands. Join in the fun.

Me and My Big Mouth

I'm like the love doctor. I taught sexuality education for 3 years professionally, and kids learn that. They tell me things. I see dead people.

I learned that one of my students has just been tested positive for a STI. I feel so badly for them, and wish I could change places with them. I've been there, and it's no fun.

I learned that one of my students is getting yanked around by their ex, and can't move on with life. I feel so badly for them, and wish I could change places with them. I've been there, and its no fun.

But sometimes, when they reach out to me, I say stupid things. I help a bit, I hope, but I can be judgmental when I try not to be. It's hard when it comes to love and sexuality. I wish I could write THAT book. But not now. When I'm free, I'll feel more free to flap my big mouth.

Hail, Floods and Pestilence

Well, we got a good old-fashioned summer thunderstorm to start our day today: the official first day of summer vacation.

To celebrate, we woke up at 5:30 a.m. as usual. Tried to make the coffee but were almost out. Tried to read the paper but it wasn't here yet. Tried to get on the computer but the power kept flickering.

And now we're trying to get ready for the teacher's perfect summer vacation -- going into school! Hubby is teaching summer government, so he's in the shower getting ready to go. I'm working on the yearbook still every day, so I'll be heading out about an hour after him. Glamorous, eh?

So now we got hail and flood warnings. The pestilence is the current presidential election -- the Democrats have their heads up their rears and the Republicans could capitalize on that.

Happy Summer!

Mother of All Phoons

Well, Jedi did it. He bagged the perfect phoon. I've had it enlarged to a 24 x 36 poster to hang in my classroom, and bought a 10 x 15 for him. He's going to come in and do a slide show of his Caribbean vacation this week and I'll surprise him with it.

See, when you work so intensely with kids in extracurriculars, you develop these parallel relationships, as a colleague penned them. You get close and you share life and it's all cool. His wonderful girlfriend suffers from depression also, and I've tried to give him some tips on how to cope with it all. But he's a great guy and already knew it all.

He's going to school for neurosciences and journalism here close to home, and I'm sure we haven't heard the last of him. I'm so lucky to make acquaintances with young adults like him.

And Ranae has been running wild lately and I haven't seen my yearbook editor-in-chief much. But she promises to rectify that beginning tomorrow.

It always comes back to that damn yearbook.

Cat Shit

I woke up this morning to find cat poop in my purse. Previously, I have found cat poop on my computer bag, and on 3 other purses. I think our old female is trying to tell me something.

We have 4 cats now, and we have 4 litter boxes in the basement. You'd think that would be sufficient, but oh no, that little bitch has to mark my territory as hers. It's war now: I'm just in the right mood to put her down for not being able to control her bladder. She is probably sick somehow, but she's old and would medical treatment really be effective at her age? She's quirky as hell, but aren't we all?

These decisions are not fun. I know the animal rights groups would tell me to take her to the vet and spend lots of money on her. I know that others would say it's cruel to let her live like this; she doesn't enjoy defacating on my purses.

Is this the circle of life? Shit in inappropriate places then you die?

Too early in the morning for this shit, that's for sure.

Busy in my Mind

I'm busy with my mind, but not with my body. I can sit here for hours creating things on this new kick-ass computer I've acquired. It's got multi-media capabilities and an internal camera. This morning so far I've conversed with Shownarou via Skype and saw his new lip tusks he got gaged a few weeks back. I've spoke with one of the Badding twins via gmail chat about his yearbook page and overruled his judgement. I have chatted with my oldest son about our plans for meeting tomorrow. And I've ordered our Graceland, Sun Records, Hard Rock Cafe on Beale Street, and various Soul museum tickets and made Heart Break Hotel reservations. Oh yeah, I'm on a roll.

Plus, I've had bad luck on my mobwars game on facebook. I've been busted twice already today for attempting train robberies.

So, will this help me stay mentally acute in the face of Alzheimers, which runs in my family?

These things are on my mind this morning.

The Man

Dammit. It's as if I'm clairvoyant. The man came to my room during second period, when I wasn't supposed to have kids. Of course there were kids in the room; there are always kids in my room. He handed me my manila folder, and explained it contained THE letter that would be on file in my PERMANENT record. I was to read it, sign, and go to the Principal's office in a few minutes.

So, I obliged. I read said letter, which they had all wrong. They said it was my sex101 blog, which it wasn't. It was Thresholds and Other Ruminations. Remember that name.

Lol.

So the meeting in the Principals office was anti-climactic, and we talked Cubbies and motorcycle nights at local bars. The Principal said shit at one point, and the man said they had to cover their ass. . . and I'm the profane one.

Nuf said.

Final Final Finals

Tomorrow is high school final day. That means the last day of regular classes was today, and everyone in the school is happy about it but me. I still have two months of work left on the yearbook, and if history repeats itself, three or four.

Waa Waa, poor me. There, the pity party is over. Hell, who am I kidding? That's what this blog is all about.

The photojournalism kids started presenting their finals today, and they were good -- but the first few who volunteer to go always are. They make photo essays and present them orally using the projector and Adobe Bridge. It's slick -- unless the technology craps out, which is frequent. Like today after school the entire network went down and I couldn't burn the rest of the students' discs. Hope it's up by tomorrow, or else it's Plan B, which I have yet to pull out of my ass.

They have been instructed to put only their top pictures in the folder called "Final Final." Most of them do this, except for the stupid heads who can't follow instructions or read an assignment sheet. That's one of my big pet peeves -- because I so thoroughly give these instructions and utilize all brain styles that it irks me when a student just plain doesn't listen. Like I'm speaking like an adult in the Peanuts' movies: Whaw whaw whaw whaw whaw.

Oh well, the curse of most teachers, I'd assume. I've been told that you should only give students directions ONCE to train them to learn. I just whine when they ask me questions I went over and direct them to their clearly labeled assignment sheet of assorted colors.

So, I wish this was my Final Finals week, but I've signed up for another year. It could be worse: I could be back in 'da Hood. I'll have to have flashbacks to my alternative education years.

Ahhh, those were the days -- when I taught at the roughest school in the Midwest, with the best staff on the planet.

Now I'm in whitey white land with some of the smartest kids I've ever known. And I'm happy.

Until the man messes with me again.

Grape Propel

I love grape Propel fit water beverage. I have two or three a day. It is alway son my desk. Here's a pic to prove it. Me and Pi work on CreativeSuite CS2, which he has been trying to teach me for 4 years now. I still rely on him to help recreate the paper and to do advertising catalogs; he's one in a million for sure. (He has, incidentally, given permission for his image and identity to be used in this blog and subsequent blooks. At a price, of course; he is not stupid.)

Anyway, me and my Propel plug along at XHS. We are contracted for another year, as far as I know, and so we will put together another 9 issues of the paper and one yearbook. We are doing the yearbook online next year, and aside from the Kiwi incident, are all set for a year of getting the book done by June 15th. Then, I go on to other pursuits in the summer of 09.

Oh, and I gotta get that pesky doctorate. For credibility.

Like 25 years in the classroom in one form or another doesn't count.

Dr. Calvin and book signings and adult education for parents of sexually active teens, here we come. Guess I got some 'splaining to do, Lucy.