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.