I am my own worst critic. As an introvert and highly sensitive person, criticism really gets to me.
So many of you know I am a teacher. Education is everything to me, I hope to write education-related books someday and my head in the clouds aspiration is to be a "power that be" person and be a voice of reason in education.
Anyways, I got an email from an administrator that my 6th period class is out of control. (No (@($ Sherlock). I have 38 students and the majority are those with many suspensions and endangerment of failing and all that. The "at risk" kids who are each a handful. I had two of my most "lovelies" out of class-one in the restroom, one in the nurse, or so they told me. They were actually way down the hall and had hidden their passes. They got caught by an administrator. Odd thing was, they were supposedly doing schoolwork. But they got sent back and the administrator saw a few kids with electronic devices. I try and control the use of them (not allowed) but a few kids will actually sit down and be quiet if they have third stupid iPod playing. So now I have to not allow iPods at all and keep better control of my class. Magically.
See the students tell me I have to tell at them for them to behave. Seriously, thy told me this. First, I don't yell. I have asthma and it somehow made it that I can't yell. If I do it comes out alien like. It's an unintelligible high pitched growl that quivers and cracks and cannot be taken with any seriousness. The crazy cat lady on the Simpsons is scarier and more intelligible than I. Second, should I even have to yell, if, say, I could?
I should have procedures in place and every minute should count as fast paced no time to waste instruction. It is it if they don't want to learn, I can't make them. I can nag. I can call home. I can fail them. But they don't care and tell me as such. They complain I give too much work but don't do any of it anyways because only the midterm and final count as a grade. Nothing else. So why work?
Anyways yes this is a lengthy rant. I feel powerless to get 38 students, most who don't want to be there and aren't held accountable, to "behave". I'm quiet and understanding and they walk all over me. But I can't even be quiet and strict or mean or whatever as it isn't in my nature.
Maybe I am not cut out for teaching.
Maybe I should just write my damned book and pray someone publishes and then buys it. I have to succeed at something, right?
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Summer Vacation's Ancient Secret
As a child with ahem, interesting parents, summer vacation never included Disneyland or backyard parties, kid-friendly hotels or Las Vegas.
Summers included loading the husky-wolf mixes, terrier mix, and tortoise into our salvaged Ford Ranger and driving up to Oregon to visit family. I would cram into the jump seat with the smaller luggage, terrier, and tortoise and stare out the window for seventeen hours straight. We would listen to Alabama and the Judd's as the Mojave Desert's mid day heat made the black truck without air conditioning even more oppressive. If we were lucky, we'd detour and spend a few days camping in the High Sierra.
We didn't camp in an RV or really with any creature comfort, sometimes not even a restroom. Just a tent with sleeping bags and a fire pit to call home. I do have find memories of these days though, as I loved nature and travel (still do) so every day was an adventure.
My parents had skewed but interesting ideas for fun along the way, like stopping in he aforementioned Mojave to rock hound. Hours spent with necks bent to the ground, in blazing heat, looking for some rare mineral or crystal while doing our best to avoid heatstroke, Mojave Green rattlesnakes, and black widows. Or we'd tour narrow desert-patina black canyons for ancient petroglyphs.
I recall one summer when I was probably twelve, and we were high up in the Sierras, 9,000 feet, where summer hasn't come yet. I was bundled up in pink sweats, moon boots, and my mom's spare brown jacket (in which it looked like I was drowning), my long hair disheveled, as we hiked up a creek bed. I don't know why we were hiking but I loved hiking and exploring so I did not care. We came upon a gentle hill by the creek side and I sat down for a moment, tired. I was getting bored and began poking the pine-needle covered earth with a stick, when I uncovered a nice round rock. It fit in my hand perfectly. It fit inside the rock it nested in quite well. This is when it dawned on me what it was, a metate, molcajete, grinding stone probably used to grind acorn meal.
This stone had been used at least 100 years ago, something that had not been touched or discovered by anyone for decades if. not centuries. We took a phot and I deftly covered it up in mulch, to be undisturbed again.
Summers included loading the husky-wolf mixes, terrier mix, and tortoise into our salvaged Ford Ranger and driving up to Oregon to visit family. I would cram into the jump seat with the smaller luggage, terrier, and tortoise and stare out the window for seventeen hours straight. We would listen to Alabama and the Judd's as the Mojave Desert's mid day heat made the black truck without air conditioning even more oppressive. If we were lucky, we'd detour and spend a few days camping in the High Sierra.
We didn't camp in an RV or really with any creature comfort, sometimes not even a restroom. Just a tent with sleeping bags and a fire pit to call home. I do have find memories of these days though, as I loved nature and travel (still do) so every day was an adventure.
My parents had skewed but interesting ideas for fun along the way, like stopping in he aforementioned Mojave to rock hound. Hours spent with necks bent to the ground, in blazing heat, looking for some rare mineral or crystal while doing our best to avoid heatstroke, Mojave Green rattlesnakes, and black widows. Or we'd tour narrow desert-patina black canyons for ancient petroglyphs.
I recall one summer when I was probably twelve, and we were high up in the Sierras, 9,000 feet, where summer hasn't come yet. I was bundled up in pink sweats, moon boots, and my mom's spare brown jacket (in which it looked like I was drowning), my long hair disheveled, as we hiked up a creek bed. I don't know why we were hiking but I loved hiking and exploring so I did not care. We came upon a gentle hill by the creek side and I sat down for a moment, tired. I was getting bored and began poking the pine-needle covered earth with a stick, when I uncovered a nice round rock. It fit in my hand perfectly. It fit inside the rock it nested in quite well. This is when it dawned on me what it was, a metate, molcajete, grinding stone probably used to grind acorn meal.
This stone had been used at least 100 years ago, something that had not been touched or discovered by anyone for decades if. not centuries. We took a phot and I deftly covered it up in mulch, to be undisturbed again.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
change of plans
I had a mandatory training to go to today. Exhausted after lack of sleep but ready, I ut on my sweather and eyed my son, which was easy as he was stuck to me like a baby monkey. Hubby walked in and said. "Crap, busy day, meetings all day. The kind that if I miss, I am fired." I eye my son again, listless and clingy, whimpering. I cannot send him into daycare like this, with a severe ear infection. I sigh and take off my sweater and turn on Sesame Street.
I grab my laptop and go to send in my substitute lesson plans, the ones I had because of being in training. The school site is down. I cannot send lessons. Crap. I call and no one answers. Double crap. Finally someone answers and I am able to send my lessons to the right person via a text. Phew. I call the training and explain my predicament. Now I am free to....watch Sesame Street.
I hakf ignore Elmo and start writing my Liebster award blog post. Yay, I won! Then my tummy grumbles so I look in the fridge to find amost-expired hamburger meat. I make tsco meat and head out to get tortillas, toting my sicky with me who is in better spiritd after his antibiotics and some tylenol. I decide to drop by the used books store except they aren't open even though it is 15 minutes past opening time. So I go get the mail and head for the grocer's and the book store is open! I mentally add it to myb"do after lunch" list. I get tortillas. I argue with the post office and get my complaint sent to the highest of higher ups. Then the phone rings.
It is my hubby asking when I am coming home. I figure he is just hungry, too. Nope. He says, "lock the doors and get home now". See, there is a cop killer on the loose. He was made national news and has killed a handful of people. He is now to be believed to be i nmy community. The highway (which I avoided as sidestreets get me to town faster) are lined with police forces, guns drawn. The schools are on lockdown. I cautiously but quickly drive home. I lock the doors. I invite my ocerprotective dogs inside for extra assuredness as I make my tacos.
Needless to say, I didnt go to work. Or training. My son Thank God is not in lockdown at his daycare a BLOCK from the police station, a prime target. I am not going to the bookstore. I a mhanging out at home.
I grab my laptop and go to send in my substitute lesson plans, the ones I had because of being in training. The school site is down. I cannot send lessons. Crap. I call and no one answers. Double crap. Finally someone answers and I am able to send my lessons to the right person via a text. Phew. I call the training and explain my predicament. Now I am free to....watch Sesame Street.
I hakf ignore Elmo and start writing my Liebster award blog post. Yay, I won! Then my tummy grumbles so I look in the fridge to find amost-expired hamburger meat. I make tsco meat and head out to get tortillas, toting my sicky with me who is in better spiritd after his antibiotics and some tylenol. I decide to drop by the used books store except they aren't open even though it is 15 minutes past opening time. So I go get the mail and head for the grocer's and the book store is open! I mentally add it to myb"do after lunch" list. I get tortillas. I argue with the post office and get my complaint sent to the highest of higher ups. Then the phone rings.
It is my hubby asking when I am coming home. I figure he is just hungry, too. Nope. He says, "lock the doors and get home now". See, there is a cop killer on the loose. He was made national news and has killed a handful of people. He is now to be believed to be i nmy community. The highway (which I avoided as sidestreets get me to town faster) are lined with police forces, guns drawn. The schools are on lockdown. I cautiously but quickly drive home. I lock the doors. I invite my ocerprotective dogs inside for extra assuredness as I make my tacos.
Needless to say, I didnt go to work. Or training. My son Thank God is not in lockdown at his daycare a BLOCK from the police station, a prime target. I am not going to the bookstore. I a mhanging out at home.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Stay at home mom
I suck at being a stay at home mom. And I hated it....yes, past tense.
I was unemployed for a year and a half, even though I have a MA and experience and bla bla. Long rant short, no one outside of education hires teachers in this economy, not even minimum wage jobs. There are 50-500 applicants per education job.
So I stayed at home and raised my son. I love him and watching him go from newborn to toddler was something I would not trade for the world.
But I hated being a stay at home mom. The mom part, albeit challenging, was fine. I mean I have worked in preschool through adult education so I love working with children.
It is the wife part, the homemaker part, I despised. I still hate the cleaning part. My house is a disaster. Partly I blame my son's poor health and 6 months of non stop double ear infections. Poor guy! So I could barely leave his side. I partly blame my parents because my mom's house...isn't a case of Hoarders but every surface is covered with trinkets, framed art, etc., every inch. I grew up thinking that was normal and it is a hard habit to break. Besides, I still must argue, why out away the can opener, toothbrush, Elmo doll, laptop, etc into a drawer if you are going to take it out and use it multiple times a day? Drawers are to put stuff away. Away away. I also partially blame myself cause I am lazy and hate hate hate cleaning. Especially folding and putting away laundry (yeah so it lives in the dryer or heaped on a chair), mopping, and anything requiring fine detailing.
I also at least hated cooking. No let me rephrase that. I love food and enjoy cooking but am slow as hell. I have lots f disasters. I forget ingredients. I try and get too creative and make inedibles. I also have an often sick child so it makes cooking a pain.
So I got a part time job. Yippee!
However, now I am expecting a second child due right when work is back in session, IF my contract is renewed. I have never been renewed, always victim if "Last In First Out" (google it!). I don't want to take 6 weeks off with a sub in my class. I don't want to only take 6 weeks off. I want more time. I don't want to lose my job and go through the pains of unemployment again. Of adding another temporary job to my repertoire of having worked over 15 jobs in 13 years.
I have began to come to terms with being a stay at home mom even though I am currently working. I want finances to magically do cool things so I can stay at home come August. I have began to learn to clean. Hubby wants a house that looks like a hotel. Ummmm it doesn't. I am so far from that but I am working on it. I am cooking almost every day and having fun doing it. My speed has increased and I have had less inedible disasters...although hubby is bummed I made goulash today instead of beef stew. I have psyched myself up to be a stay at home mom, in the face of adversity. I will either get renewed and work 6 weeks postpartum- boo a 6 week old in full time daycare. Or will struggle to find a job and end up doubting my abilities, while embracing being a stay at home mom.
Who knows what will happen, only time till tell.
I was unemployed for a year and a half, even though I have a MA and experience and bla bla. Long rant short, no one outside of education hires teachers in this economy, not even minimum wage jobs. There are 50-500 applicants per education job.
So I stayed at home and raised my son. I love him and watching him go from newborn to toddler was something I would not trade for the world.
But I hated being a stay at home mom. The mom part, albeit challenging, was fine. I mean I have worked in preschool through adult education so I love working with children.
It is the wife part, the homemaker part, I despised. I still hate the cleaning part. My house is a disaster. Partly I blame my son's poor health and 6 months of non stop double ear infections. Poor guy! So I could barely leave his side. I partly blame my parents because my mom's house...isn't a case of Hoarders but every surface is covered with trinkets, framed art, etc., every inch. I grew up thinking that was normal and it is a hard habit to break. Besides, I still must argue, why out away the can opener, toothbrush, Elmo doll, laptop, etc into a drawer if you are going to take it out and use it multiple times a day? Drawers are to put stuff away. Away away. I also partially blame myself cause I am lazy and hate hate hate cleaning. Especially folding and putting away laundry (yeah so it lives in the dryer or heaped on a chair), mopping, and anything requiring fine detailing.
I also at least hated cooking. No let me rephrase that. I love food and enjoy cooking but am slow as hell. I have lots f disasters. I forget ingredients. I try and get too creative and make inedibles. I also have an often sick child so it makes cooking a pain.
So I got a part time job. Yippee!
However, now I am expecting a second child due right when work is back in session, IF my contract is renewed. I have never been renewed, always victim if "Last In First Out" (google it!). I don't want to take 6 weeks off with a sub in my class. I don't want to only take 6 weeks off. I want more time. I don't want to lose my job and go through the pains of unemployment again. Of adding another temporary job to my repertoire of having worked over 15 jobs in 13 years.
I have began to come to terms with being a stay at home mom even though I am currently working. I want finances to magically do cool things so I can stay at home come August. I have began to learn to clean. Hubby wants a house that looks like a hotel. Ummmm it doesn't. I am so far from that but I am working on it. I am cooking almost every day and having fun doing it. My speed has increased and I have had less inedible disasters...although hubby is bummed I made goulash today instead of beef stew. I have psyched myself up to be a stay at home mom, in the face of adversity. I will either get renewed and work 6 weeks postpartum- boo a 6 week old in full time daycare. Or will struggle to find a job and end up doubting my abilities, while embracing being a stay at home mom.
Who knows what will happen, only time till tell.
Leibsters like lobsters minus the butter
liebsters, an internet blogging award like a chain letter kind if, but not. I'm I award 11 liebsters to bloggers with less than 200 followers, like the Grammys of blogs for us small fry. But I can't think of 11 people with few followers so I will break the cardinal rule. So be it. If you get a liebster from me, answer my questions of you (there's 11), write 11 facts about yourself and write 11 questions for the award winners to answer. Make it a blog post.
Oh and thanks to yetisaurus at therealyetisaurus.com for giving me the liebster. She seems like the kind of person I woukd enjoy hanging out with in real life.
So here goes. Voila.
Questions asked of me..
1.Have you ever shot milk out of your nose?
No but I was lactose intolerant most of my life. I do recall shooting squirt soda out my nose which burnt like hell but only fueled my laughter that had probably caused the shooting in the first place.
2. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?
That is a hard one, pasta? Cause its variable. But if I had to choose one exact thing? A toss up of hummus, fresh blackberries, or zucchini.
3. What's the most embarrassing wardrobe malfunction you've ever had, and where did it happen to you?
Oh I am sure there are lots especially after too much "beverage" in college. But in high school I remember a time that seemed like a malfunction. I was a nameless fairy in the school production of Midsummer Night's Dream and we had skin colored leotards and leggings. Attached was a small velour tankini bodice thing and around my waist, maybe 6 strips of toile fabric. Six. So most of me looked to be completely exposed and we were to frolic around going class to class to advertise the play. Near the end, you would hear kids say "here come the naked fairies". Kids would actually ask, are you naked?
4. Tyrannosaurus Rex or Velociraptor? Velociraptor. Cooler name, and T Rex has had the spotlight for far too long.
5. What's the most important thing you've ever learned that someone else taught you?
A simple thing but you only have one body treat it right
6. What's the most important thing you've ever learned that you discovered yourself?
Forgiveness, mostly of myself.
7. How long can you hold your breath?
Not very long. I would lose any competition. Having asthma, the feeling if no breath is sheer torture. I swim by doggy paddling so I can breathe the entire time.
8. What are you most afraid of?
Fire as in forest or home fire. I have been evacuated from forest fires too many times.
9. Have you ever accidentally glued something to something else?
I can't think of an example but somehow know I have done it. More than once.
10. Have you ever punched someone in the face?
Not the face. I bullied the bully boys in 6th grade and picked them up by the shirt collar and shoved them off the curb. I also slugged an ex boyfriend cause he would say overtly, "whoa she's hot I'd do her". In front of me. Without shame.
11. If you had to live 200 years in the past or 200 years in the future, which would you pick?
Past. First, if the world ends in the next 199 years I would have chosen the wrong deal! End of the world stuff scares me. I love history and find recent history the most fascinating so I would go back 200 years. I would want to speak to my decades relatives about their lives...I have so much to ask.
MY QUESTIONS for the winners
1. What is the strangest food you have eaten?
2. What is one political/ hot button issue you are really passionate about?
3. Do you believe the environment shapes someone- not the house, the family, but the actual place? Why?
4. What is your earliest memory?
5. If you have an iPod or similar device out all songs on shuffle. What first ten are played?
6. What are some words, when mispronounced or even accented, really bother you?
7. List up to 5 books you have read that were awesome. Feel free to say why.
8. Do people ever call you by the wrong name? What names do they give you?
9. If you were to be you, now, but go back to high school or college (manically looking the right age) what would you do differently this time around?
10. When is a time you were quite scared?
1. Do you believe in the supernatural? If so have you had any experiences? Do tell!
11 FACTS ABOUT ME
1. I'd prob be dead if it were 200 years ago, being I have survived what could kill- anaphylaxis, pleurisy, asthma attacks, severe months long dysentery to name a few.
2. I am incredibly blind. Incredibly. I could beat most people's bad vision.
3. I have touched a mummified hand
4. I got lost in Munich Germany and found my travel group by complete accident as they left to board the train. My credit card had been stolen and I had no money and didn't know German and it was a cold winter...I would have been screwed
5. I got bitten by a fox once.
6. I was science partners with Olympian Michelle Kwan for like...a week in middle school before she disappeared to become famous.
7. I was the shortest skinniest kid in my grade every year until Michelle Kwan. Then girls stopped growing and since I still hadn't reached puberty, they stopped growing and I kept growing...yay!
8.i cannot snap, ski, snowboard at all and I can barely swim. Which reminds me I didn't learn to ride a bike or even kind of swim till I was twelve.
9. I had never had food more "ethnic" than pizza, ground beef hard shell taco, or orange chicken until I was 18z
10. I didn't learn to drive until 22. I mean I could kind of drive at 16 but didn't get my license or drive proficiently until 22.
11. I like to make up words. Hell, if Shakespeare can do it, why can't I?
Award winners if you choose to accept
1. http://www.jamiemiles.com/blog/
2. http://mythoughtsonthesubjectareasfollows.wordpress.com/
3.http://getoffmyroads.blogspot.com/?m=1
4. http://sublurbanmama.blogspot.com/?m=0
I make a terrible liebster-ER but I got it once before so I used up my 11 and now have less. If I forgot you, let me know and I will seriously add you.
Questions asked of me..
1.Have you ever shot milk out of your nose?
No but I was lactose intolerant most of my life. I do recall shooting squirt soda out my nose which burnt like hell but only fueled my laughter that had probably caused the shooting in the first place.
2. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?
That is a hard one, pasta? Cause its variable. But if I had to choose one exact thing? A toss up of hummus, fresh blackberries, or zucchini.
3. What's the most embarrassing wardrobe malfunction you've ever had, and where did it happen to you?
Oh I am sure there are lots especially after too much "beverage" in college. But in high school I remember a time that seemed like a malfunction. I was a nameless fairy in the school production of Midsummer Night's Dream and we had skin colored leotards and leggings. Attached was a small velour tankini bodice thing and around my waist, maybe 6 strips of toile fabric. Six. So most of me looked to be completely exposed and we were to frolic around going class to class to advertise the play. Near the end, you would hear kids say "here come the naked fairies". Kids would actually ask, are you naked?
4. Tyrannosaurus Rex or Velociraptor? Velociraptor. Cooler name, and T Rex has had the spotlight for far too long.
5. What's the most important thing you've ever learned that someone else taught you?
A simple thing but you only have one body treat it right
6. What's the most important thing you've ever learned that you discovered yourself?
Forgiveness, mostly of myself.
7. How long can you hold your breath?
Not very long. I would lose any competition. Having asthma, the feeling if no breath is sheer torture. I swim by doggy paddling so I can breathe the entire time.
8. What are you most afraid of?
Fire as in forest or home fire. I have been evacuated from forest fires too many times.
9. Have you ever accidentally glued something to something else?
I can't think of an example but somehow know I have done it. More than once.
10. Have you ever punched someone in the face?
Not the face. I bullied the bully boys in 6th grade and picked them up by the shirt collar and shoved them off the curb. I also slugged an ex boyfriend cause he would say overtly, "whoa she's hot I'd do her". In front of me. Without shame.
11. If you had to live 200 years in the past or 200 years in the future, which would you pick?
Past. First, if the world ends in the next 199 years I would have chosen the wrong deal! End of the world stuff scares me. I love history and find recent history the most fascinating so I would go back 200 years. I would want to speak to my decades relatives about their lives...I have so much to ask.
MY QUESTIONS for the winners
1. What is the strangest food you have eaten?
2. What is one political/ hot button issue you are really passionate about?
3. Do you believe the environment shapes someone- not the house, the family, but the actual place? Why?
4. What is your earliest memory?
5. If you have an iPod or similar device out all songs on shuffle. What first ten are played?
6. What are some words, when mispronounced or even accented, really bother you?
7. List up to 5 books you have read that were awesome. Feel free to say why.
8. Do people ever call you by the wrong name? What names do they give you?
9. If you were to be you, now, but go back to high school or college (manically looking the right age) what would you do differently this time around?
10. When is a time you were quite scared?
1. Do you believe in the supernatural? If so have you had any experiences? Do tell!
11 FACTS ABOUT ME
1. I'd prob be dead if it were 200 years ago, being I have survived what could kill- anaphylaxis, pleurisy, asthma attacks, severe months long dysentery to name a few.
2. I am incredibly blind. Incredibly. I could beat most people's bad vision.
3. I have touched a mummified hand
4. I got lost in Munich Germany and found my travel group by complete accident as they left to board the train. My credit card had been stolen and I had no money and didn't know German and it was a cold winter...I would have been screwed
5. I got bitten by a fox once.
6. I was science partners with Olympian Michelle Kwan for like...a week in middle school before she disappeared to become famous.
7. I was the shortest skinniest kid in my grade every year until Michelle Kwan. Then girls stopped growing and since I still hadn't reached puberty, they stopped growing and I kept growing...yay!
8.i cannot snap, ski, snowboard at all and I can barely swim. Which reminds me I didn't learn to ride a bike or even kind of swim till I was twelve.
9. I had never had food more "ethnic" than pizza, ground beef hard shell taco, or orange chicken until I was 18z
10. I didn't learn to drive until 22. I mean I could kind of drive at 16 but didn't get my license or drive proficiently until 22.
11. I like to make up words. Hell, if Shakespeare can do it, why can't I?
Award winners if you choose to accept
1. http://www.jamiemiles.com/blog/
2. http://mythoughtsonthesubjectareasfollows.wordpress.com/
3.http://getoffmyroads.blogspot.com/?m=1
4. http://sublurbanmama.blogspot.com/?m=0
I make a terrible liebster-ER but I got it once before so I used up my 11 and now have less. If I forgot you, let me know and I will seriously add you.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
First Love
My first love may have been really an infatuation or obsession but nevertheless here goes my lengthy story.
P went to my high school and man oh man was he hot. Olive-tan skin, that 90s curtain hair style the skater boys had, haunting olive shaped Spanish eyes...and he was SMART and funny. Yet also an bad bit and yet he went to church and had manners. I mean what was not to love? A bad boy you could bring home to impress the parents, who was smart (yeah I'm into brains...not in the zombie way) and beyond hot. Like the hottest guy ever, Johnny Depp's doppelgänger or something.
And in science class, we got assigned seats for the entire year and his was fatefully next to mine. Oh how I swooned and how my heart pitter-pattered. I looked forward to science class every single day. Being science partners, we chatted some- the seating arrangement forced beyond-painfully- shy me to, gasp, communicate. We competed with one another for the best grade in class. We talked about our shared love for Metallica. We had matching skater shoes (even though I am too uncoordinated to skate. Ever.) We even wrote a silly story about the pig we dissected, Lenny. A match made in heaven.
But those who read my post about my first crush ( http://disorderlywanderlustblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/saint-valentine-was-arse.html?m=1 ) will know I had been scarred for life. I just sat there all year, dreaming of what would never happen, him just popping the question (date me, not marry me...although I was guilty of signing my name with his surname in my diary, as every teen girl has ashamed lay done). I mean, how could he not like me? We were like soul mates!
Summer was fast approaching and who knows...I might never see him again. What to do? I tried to hint things, test the waters. My uncle was renting a cabin nearby for the summer and I was excited to spend the summer away from home, going inner-tubing, fishing, creating ruckus. So I asked what his plans were and mentioned mine. Nothing happened an a proverbially kicked myself for the rest of the day.
The next day I psyched myself up as I had back in 4th grade, and this was a critical mission as the last day of school was the following day; sink or swim! So when the other two science partners at our table were discussing pubic hairs or something(they were gross boys) I mumbled something like, hey, have you ever been water skiing? Cause you can come up to my uncle's cabin this summer, I am having a few friends up. (As in me, myself, and I, and occasionally my real life BFF). And he said....
....he said, sure, maybe. I was probably turning blue at that moment, from holding my breath, and I likely said while shaking from nervousness and disbelief, @hey then let's exchange numbers". And we did. And I am sure I was blushing and grinning ear to ear like a big old fool but I was so ecstatic I did not care. I probably danced through the school halls that day.
I eventually got the guts to call him and his mom said he could come for a week! A week! We went and picked him up an he spent the night on the couch at my house because my mom was too tired to drive us to the cabin. He kissed me that night but felt all guilty or something? So my best moment turned into a moment of pensive silence but by the time we got to the cabin, things were better. We hung out with my cousin and watched bad movies and played truth or dare. My cousin who was only 12 was not dumb so he knew I liked P. So he dared P to ask me out and P said he had wanted too anyways. OMG!
We finished the night watching bad movies and all crashed in the same bed but it wasn't, you know, sexual because my cousin was there and plus I was a good girl. But I didn't sleep a wink that night, thinking, OMG my boyfriend is in bed with me. I mean my cousin was in between us but OMG a few feet over was my boyfriend. My first boyfriend. My first kiss.
We had fun making flaming arrows and holding hands and cracking jokes for the week. The next week we chatted on the phone a bit and all was wonderful.
Until the call. One day he calls to say he had been arrested for vandalism or something, and that his mom says he cannot see me again. I said okay, hung up the phone, and fell apart. I cried and hollered for hours.
School started the next week and I saw him in the hall and he ducked away from me, looking at his feet. Granted we broke up but he wouldn't even look my way? So in some sort of masochistic torture, I purposely made sure I walked past him every day after first period. Was it to torture him or myself? I really am not sure but I was not done with him. I was not over him and our relationship lacked proper closure, and now had this "ignore her" mystery. I don't deal well with mystery. I then learned he had history third period and I knew the history teacher well- his wife taught next door to my mom and I had helped his wife in her classroom a lot. Plus he secretly sold candy at passing period to collect money for the team he coached. Who couldn't resist a snickers bar, friendly teacher, and a glimpse at P?
My senior year, supposed to be the best, was punctuated with sorrowful depression, self doubt, hatred. I had finally got the guts to ask a guy out again and it had crashed and burned. With him now actually averting his eyes to my presence, did he ever actually like me? Was it all one big lie, the only guy in all of high school to even note my existence really didn't like me in the first place?
I spent my days penning sad poems and listening to sad songs on repeat. Fade to Black or any song by Stabbing Westward for hours straight. It was a dark time that in retrospect was kind of pathetic, but I didn't know it then. I thought my world was dark and done for, and I wallowed in it.
The story here of first love, infatuation, obsession does not have a proper ending. I graduated that year and he was younger so he was still in school. I never saw him again but my mom ended up being really good friends with his mom (also a teacher) and his aunt (yup a teacher). I ended up going to concerts with his aunt and went swimming at her house where I had missed him by a half an hour! So I got random updates which fueled my pain.
I have forgiven him and forgiven my obsessed crazy self since I was young and dumb and it was 15 years ago, but, you never fully forget your first kiss, boyfriend, love. Even though I could care less about him and the past is passed, the past is still your past and shapes you somehow.
P went to my high school and man oh man was he hot. Olive-tan skin, that 90s curtain hair style the skater boys had, haunting olive shaped Spanish eyes...and he was SMART and funny. Yet also an bad bit and yet he went to church and had manners. I mean what was not to love? A bad boy you could bring home to impress the parents, who was smart (yeah I'm into brains...not in the zombie way) and beyond hot. Like the hottest guy ever, Johnny Depp's doppelgänger or something.
And in science class, we got assigned seats for the entire year and his was fatefully next to mine. Oh how I swooned and how my heart pitter-pattered. I looked forward to science class every single day. Being science partners, we chatted some- the seating arrangement forced beyond-painfully- shy me to, gasp, communicate. We competed with one another for the best grade in class. We talked about our shared love for Metallica. We had matching skater shoes (even though I am too uncoordinated to skate. Ever.) We even wrote a silly story about the pig we dissected, Lenny. A match made in heaven.
But those who read my post about my first crush ( http://disorderlywanderlustblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/saint-valentine-was-arse.html?m=1 ) will know I had been scarred for life. I just sat there all year, dreaming of what would never happen, him just popping the question (date me, not marry me...although I was guilty of signing my name with his surname in my diary, as every teen girl has ashamed lay done). I mean, how could he not like me? We were like soul mates!
Summer was fast approaching and who knows...I might never see him again. What to do? I tried to hint things, test the waters. My uncle was renting a cabin nearby for the summer and I was excited to spend the summer away from home, going inner-tubing, fishing, creating ruckus. So I asked what his plans were and mentioned mine. Nothing happened an a proverbially kicked myself for the rest of the day.
The next day I psyched myself up as I had back in 4th grade, and this was a critical mission as the last day of school was the following day; sink or swim! So when the other two science partners at our table were discussing pubic hairs or something(they were gross boys) I mumbled something like, hey, have you ever been water skiing? Cause you can come up to my uncle's cabin this summer, I am having a few friends up. (As in me, myself, and I, and occasionally my real life BFF). And he said....
....he said, sure, maybe. I was probably turning blue at that moment, from holding my breath, and I likely said while shaking from nervousness and disbelief, @hey then let's exchange numbers". And we did. And I am sure I was blushing and grinning ear to ear like a big old fool but I was so ecstatic I did not care. I probably danced through the school halls that day.
I eventually got the guts to call him and his mom said he could come for a week! A week! We went and picked him up an he spent the night on the couch at my house because my mom was too tired to drive us to the cabin. He kissed me that night but felt all guilty or something? So my best moment turned into a moment of pensive silence but by the time we got to the cabin, things were better. We hung out with my cousin and watched bad movies and played truth or dare. My cousin who was only 12 was not dumb so he knew I liked P. So he dared P to ask me out and P said he had wanted too anyways. OMG!
We finished the night watching bad movies and all crashed in the same bed but it wasn't, you know, sexual because my cousin was there and plus I was a good girl. But I didn't sleep a wink that night, thinking, OMG my boyfriend is in bed with me. I mean my cousin was in between us but OMG a few feet over was my boyfriend. My first boyfriend. My first kiss.
We had fun making flaming arrows and holding hands and cracking jokes for the week. The next week we chatted on the phone a bit and all was wonderful.
Until the call. One day he calls to say he had been arrested for vandalism or something, and that his mom says he cannot see me again. I said okay, hung up the phone, and fell apart. I cried and hollered for hours.
School started the next week and I saw him in the hall and he ducked away from me, looking at his feet. Granted we broke up but he wouldn't even look my way? So in some sort of masochistic torture, I purposely made sure I walked past him every day after first period. Was it to torture him or myself? I really am not sure but I was not done with him. I was not over him and our relationship lacked proper closure, and now had this "ignore her" mystery. I don't deal well with mystery. I then learned he had history third period and I knew the history teacher well- his wife taught next door to my mom and I had helped his wife in her classroom a lot. Plus he secretly sold candy at passing period to collect money for the team he coached. Who couldn't resist a snickers bar, friendly teacher, and a glimpse at P?
My senior year, supposed to be the best, was punctuated with sorrowful depression, self doubt, hatred. I had finally got the guts to ask a guy out again and it had crashed and burned. With him now actually averting his eyes to my presence, did he ever actually like me? Was it all one big lie, the only guy in all of high school to even note my existence really didn't like me in the first place?
I spent my days penning sad poems and listening to sad songs on repeat. Fade to Black or any song by Stabbing Westward for hours straight. It was a dark time that in retrospect was kind of pathetic, but I didn't know it then. I thought my world was dark and done for, and I wallowed in it.
The story here of first love, infatuation, obsession does not have a proper ending. I graduated that year and he was younger so he was still in school. I never saw him again but my mom ended up being really good friends with his mom (also a teacher) and his aunt (yup a teacher). I ended up going to concerts with his aunt and went swimming at her house where I had missed him by a half an hour! So I got random updates which fueled my pain.
I have forgiven him and forgiven my obsessed crazy self since I was young and dumb and it was 15 years ago, but, you never fully forget your first kiss, boyfriend, love. Even though I could care less about him and the past is passed, the past is still your past and shapes you somehow.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Beef stew eww
I had Cafe Rio yesterday, their pork barbacoa tacos. I really wanted the pork salad but my son loves the rice that accompanies the tacos and is all but lost in the salad. So tacos it was. Today, I thought, I bet there are knock off recipes online! Cause that sweet Barbacoa is like crack and the dressing for the salad..I could drink it by the cupful.
And no this isn't some pregnancy craving as the pork and dressing have been an ongoing obsession of mine since I discovered it last year.
So I googled my taste buds away and found recipes! I was so excited. Still an excited and salivating.
But alas hubby had to deliver the bad news. No barbacoa and no cilantro dressing because we had been shopping. This week was to be steak and beef stew. Beef stew? Barf stew or beef eww is more like it. I have never been much of a beef fan and have nightmares of my mom's "stew" or "pot roast" (interchangeable terms in my house) which was more God awful than even boiled dinner. She would sear an unseasoned beef chunk, drop it into a pot of water, add an onion and a few potatoes, a grind of pepper, and let it boil all day. It was super brothy bland ands gross.
Sure, I was excited to learn stew and pot roast could be edible. Gravy like. So I ate it a few times, relishing it in its glory of, well, edible-ness. And then, I got over it. I am just not a meat and potatoes girl. It took me 20 years to even eat more than one bite of beef, and to touch a potato that wasn't fried or mashed into a butter and cream stupor and suffocated in a cat of gravy. I have come a long way.
But upon hearing that I was to make beef stew this week, an inescapable fate since we have all the ingredients which can't go to waste, I sulked. Barf. Even in a stewy-gravy sauce, boiled meat and potatoes is just no fun. I pick at the stringy meat and weird fatty sinews and stab uninterested at the potatoes without flavor. I have tried many a recipe but beef stew and pot roast always taste like beef stew or pot roast. When they are as exciting to my taste buds as pork barbacoa or lamb gyro or vindaloo, cool. Until then, you will see a happy hubby suck down a bowl of meat and potatoes and a sullen girl who forces herself to eat enough not to go hungry.
Oh pork barbacoa, how I long for you.
And no this isn't some pregnancy craving as the pork and dressing have been an ongoing obsession of mine since I discovered it last year.
So I googled my taste buds away and found recipes! I was so excited. Still an excited and salivating.
But alas hubby had to deliver the bad news. No barbacoa and no cilantro dressing because we had been shopping. This week was to be steak and beef stew. Beef stew? Barf stew or beef eww is more like it. I have never been much of a beef fan and have nightmares of my mom's "stew" or "pot roast" (interchangeable terms in my house) which was more God awful than even boiled dinner. She would sear an unseasoned beef chunk, drop it into a pot of water, add an onion and a few potatoes, a grind of pepper, and let it boil all day. It was super brothy bland ands gross.
Sure, I was excited to learn stew and pot roast could be edible. Gravy like. So I ate it a few times, relishing it in its glory of, well, edible-ness. And then, I got over it. I am just not a meat and potatoes girl. It took me 20 years to even eat more than one bite of beef, and to touch a potato that wasn't fried or mashed into a butter and cream stupor and suffocated in a cat of gravy. I have come a long way.
But upon hearing that I was to make beef stew this week, an inescapable fate since we have all the ingredients which can't go to waste, I sulked. Barf. Even in a stewy-gravy sauce, boiled meat and potatoes is just no fun. I pick at the stringy meat and weird fatty sinews and stab uninterested at the potatoes without flavor. I have tried many a recipe but beef stew and pot roast always taste like beef stew or pot roast. When they are as exciting to my taste buds as pork barbacoa or lamb gyro or vindaloo, cool. Until then, you will see a happy hubby suck down a bowl of meat and potatoes and a sullen girl who forces herself to eat enough not to go hungry.
Oh pork barbacoa, how I long for you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)