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.