I feel really blessed

A few weeks ago, I ordered a pair of snowflake earrings from an Avon representative. On the day I ordered, I also had a doctor's appointment and, coincidentally, the secretary was wearing the exact pair I had ordered!

"Are those Avon?" I asked excited,

"Why, Yes!" She told me, and I explained that I had just ordered a pair.

Well, the earrings were discontinued and sold out, so I wasn't going to get them. When I told this news to the secretary, she offered me her pair.

"I will give you mine!" she said, and I thought she was joking.

"That's ok," I laughed.

"Don't you want them?" She asked,

"I don't want to take your earrings," I said,

"I want to give them to you."

"That's ok."

"What, do I have cooties? You can put them in alcohol."

I felt like a jerk. Here is this sweet lady trying to give me her earrings, and I felt like an awful jerk for refusing. "Call me tomorrow and remind me." She says, and I say I will.

But I am very fortunate to have the people I have around me around me. It's hard to find truly nice people, but I seem to find them. Even my old office. They invite me to their Christmas party every year, even though I graduated about 2 years ago. I am the only student worker alumni to go to this event; I just feel so loved.

The "Don't You Dare" Teacher Stare

I think I've finally perfected it. You know, that little thing teachers do to discourage bad behavior. I've decided to call it my "Teacher Stare." Or, more correctly, my "Don't You Dare Teacher Stare."

This week is a milestone for me, I guess. I know it sounds funny, but I'm finally getting used to being in charge. I'm finally fighting the good fight in high school--ha.

I still find the thought of me being in charge laughable. For some reason, I just don't "feel" like a big, authoritative figure where I work. I try telling myself I need to inflate my ego, and that "you're the teacher, and it's your job to keep kids in line." But what line am I keeping them in? If I'm too strict, they'll hate my guts and dream up ways to make my life miserable, yet if I'm too easy going, they'll take advantage of me. It's hard to find the balance and figure out when to say something and when not to.

For instance, there is a general rule that there are no laptops allowed at lunch. Before I would pray that someone else would notice a kid online before I did, because I would dread approaching and correcting anyone. Most of the time, because they'd just ignore me anyway. So, the other day, I got the guts to approach this one girl and tell her to put her laptop away. She did instantly, and I felt all strong and noble inside, until I got back to my table--one of the teachers heard her say, "Well the principal said I could" in a snide and irritated manner that stole my pride and reminded me that I never knew anything.

I was just upholding the rules, and I don't regret saying what I said, but I still felt like a douche. I just don't like telling people what to do. I don't mind instructing, helping, and giving advice and suggestions, choices even. But I don't like being the "bad guy" and I guess that's just the novice in me talking.

That novice is slowly fading. I hope.

The other day, I was in a classroom where several teachers seem to be "walked upon." One student was ever so annoyingly playing with a doorknob. Now, I wish I could say "doorknob" was some new tech-toy, or even a code-name for something he was doing, but no. He was actually sitting at his desk spinning a door knob around for whatever reason.

The teacher said, "put it away" and turned to write something on the board. So, of course, he covered it with his hands and, as he got away with this murder, he smiled to his friends. Usually I'd have looked away, but I was irritated that day, so I told him to put it in his backpack. So, of course, he hid it in his sleeve.

"Put it in your back pack, or I am going to take it." I told him with my DYD Teacher Stare. He slowly put it away. Victory!

Just yesterday, when I was leaving the teacher's bathroom, I noticed a new face lurking around the door. Now, the teacher bathroom doors are locked, and I'm always concerned to make sure a locked door closes before I leave it--because they are locked for a reason, and that reason is to keep kids out.

Well, out of the corner of my eye, I see the kid run over to the door and I turn to see he's keeping it open with his foot. I turned back and said blankly, "Foot out." and he listened. "Thanks." I said and walked away, both laughing and confident.

While I'm enjoying this newfound power, I don't want it to go to my head. I see a lot of teachers abusing their "in charge" abilities, and I don't want to be one of them. I guess that's because I see the equations they create.

Bad student = stereotyped = disrespected and disregarded by teacher = problems

Whereas,

bad student + a chance + boundaries and clear guidelines + an understanding person = an opportunity to become a good student.

I want to be that teacher. The one that fixes problems and doesn't just ignorantly create new ones. I've seen the injustices, first hand. I remember them from when I was in school, and now that I work in a school, I see them again. I watch these kids get in trouble for the stupidest things, and I hate it.

When I was doing my student teaching, there was this one little kid I used to think was the Tazmanian devil. He'd run all over the place and drive everybody nuts. Zooming here, there, and everywhere. Never in his seat, always living life in fast-forward mode. I took a real interest in him, because I knew he was going to (more likely than not) fall through the cracks. He was going to keep getting in trouble, and start to be discouraged, and worse.

So I started watching him and began noticing what a wonderful kid he was. When someone ALL THE WAY across the room said, "I need a pencil." He would drop everything he was doing, grab a pencil, and run across the room to deliver it. It was amazing to watch his "Craziness" in that light, because he was doing good things, but getting into trouble for them. I hated that.

I'm not saying that all teachers are jerks, and anyone who says that they are are, in fact, the jerks. I can't think of a harder profession than education. You think your 9-5 office job is bad? Unless you have, or work with kids, you probably don't know what it's like waking up before 7AM. And you think meeting a deadline is rough? Try getting 20+ indifferent students to care to get a project done on time. The work teachers do today is amazing, and that is why it is such a tragedy to have students "fall through the cracks," but in reality, there is only so much ONE PERSON can do.

Teachers are amazing, and I'm not just biased, I'm informed. I see the sacrifices they make, each and every day to better the lives of others. How many people can say their jobs do that? How many people sacrifice their own talents and time for a small check and a classroom of germs and attitudes.

It seems I've gone off on another rant; I'll quit while I'm ahead!

I'm moving to Florida.

GASP!

That's right. I'm moving to Florida. It was decided last week when I found this gorgeous 29 million dollar home in Manalapan. (Hopefully I spelled that right--too lazy to check it, though).

I'm not sure WHEN I'm moving, but it will probably be after I hit the lottery or inherit a large fortune from some distant relative I never knew I had. Perhaps a mysterious benefactor will come into my life, or I will find me a rich man to marry. Ha. Yep, I'm moving to Florida.

But, really, check out this house. There are freaking jellyfish laminated to the floor. Or holographed. Does the word I use really matter? Seriously? And check out the garden. It looks like it was ripped right out of a jungle. I bet I could have pet frogs in there! How cool would that be?

Imagine the sunrise from that master bedroom--one out of seven. Let's see: Me, Mom, and Sister. I'd still have four rooms to go. Homemakerman, Tumbleweed, are you guys interested in moving to paradise with me? LMAO.

The size of that kitchen leaves me speechless. I can't believe the fountains. And then the pool! The pool that you can see from the basement (which is slightly creepy depending on who is watching you swim, but still!) This is an amazing house.

This is my house. In my dreams. When I hit the lottery. Etc. Etc.


Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention the best part: Look at this bar.




Notice how the counter connects to the fish tank. Is that amazing or what????








P.S. If you are reading this and are rich, and decide to STEAL my house from me, just know I will be very angry and will seek revenge to the fullest extent of my abilities... Unless, of course, you grant me visitation rights as an honorary finders fee.

I need to jot down some ideas.

Dear Future Scientists,

As an aspiring writer, I just wanted to let you know of a piece of technology I've been dreaming about since high school. See, I often get inspired by the smallest things, like driving to work in the morning, or sitting through a class. I'll be sitting somewhere completely random, and a great idea will pop into my head. I'll think about it for a while, then start playing with words in my head. Unfortunately, however, I do not have the ability to retain such genius ideas, and by the time I find a pen or make it to a piece of paper, I've forgotten my ideas.

So, think about this. Imagine if your brain had a "recording" feature installed to it. No, I promise I'm not doing drugs, this is just something I've thought about for a while. It would be truly amazing for everyone if you could just record the thoughts that go through your head, and upload them to your computer. A "black box" for your brain, if you will.

The more I think about it, the more amazing I think it would be. Especially for those of us (and I know I'm not the only one) whose brain goes through conversations with ourselves when we worry about how to say the things we mean to say: apologies, breakups, presentations, and more.

Just recently, I volunteered to teach a math lesson and it was terrible. I knew what I'd wanted to say, and I'd rehearsed the best way to transfer the knowledge that I had, but it just didn't come out. My brain black box would have been perfect.

While on the subject of futuristic technology, I would also like to see a multifunctional watch invented. Slim, and neat. Customizable, even. And programmable. Why should we carry a wallet when we could just wear a watch that stores all your personal information on it? Instead of fumbling for cash, your watch should have access to your bank account. Scan it like a bar code in a restaurant. That's it. How cool would that be?

Granted, you could never take it off, but you could never lose it either. Not while it is fastened safely to your wrist. Have you been pulled over? Have your license, and your registration information stored safely in your watch. Just put your hand outside the car window, and you're done.

Forget ID cards, just scan your watch for membership promotions and employee access. You'll never have to carry anything ever again.

I think it's brilliant. Crazy, but brilliant.

Thank you for your time, I hope my ideas will bring you many successes in your future.
Sincerely,
Me

The dilemma continues...

So the internal war is still waging: should I be the worst daughter ever and flat-out abandon my mother on Christmas? Or should I stay and regret missing yet another holiday with the cutest babies on earth? I just don't know. The decision is too hard.

My gut has been pulling me towards Beantown. I'm awful, I know. But like I was trying to say, in a post I never published, my conversations with Jerk have gotten me to thinking about "me" as a person, and not a daughter. I'm a young adult who needs to get a life, because I can't live the rest of mine with my mother. And my mother can't live the rest of her life with me. Granted, our finances hinder any actual separation as far as housing goes, but still. I need to put "me" first. Grow up, spread my wings, and all that jazz.

I've been trying to think of ways to get my mother to come along with me for the ride. So far, I've tried the following: offering to let her drive (which sounds worse than it actually is because she is a slight control freak when it comes to driving--she is "the professional") offering to pay train fare, offering to put her up in a hotel, offering to take her to a hypnotist--if you catch my drift. But she is determined to be "home" for the holidays. Perhaps it is for the best. I did, after all, invite myself and entire family into my cousins home for Christmas--I suppose that could be considered nervy to say the least. (Sorry, guys!) But I just keep thinking of my own childhood Christmases and how exciting they were. Anyway, it means a bunch to me that my cousins were there with me, even though, if I think about it, it probably wasn't by choice.

Regardless, video tapes reveal what a truly spoiled brat I was, and it just means so much to me to look back and remember all the neat gifts I had growing up. The doll that peed her pants and got diaper rash, and the dancing ballerina. Barbies, dress up clothes, and The singing mermaid doll--I still hear her voice echoing in my head. These were all integral parts of my youth; they molded my creativity and imagination. So, I suppose it is only fitting to sign off with this video!

I found this ad

So, I found this ad on Craig's list. It reads,

Does your big, happy family all live on one street? Do your parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles all have houses next door? Are you the real "Everybody Loves Raymond?"

Then tell us your story!

An award-winning television production company based in New York is seeking LARGE families for a new reality series on a major television network. The ideal family has several relatives living on the same street, block or neighborhood. The bigger the family, the better.

If this description fits your family to a T, send us an email! We'd love to hear about your family, where you live, and what it's like being so close to your relatives.

So, I laugh.

I think of my family, and laugh. (And then I thank that poster for not mentioning "prize money").

I think it is safe to say they could write a decade long documentary of the dysfunction of my family. Both sides. Mom and Dad. Ironically, though, my dad's entire family owns real estate within walking distance from us. Granted, it's mostly summer homes, but since my parents have been divorced for 14 years, it's pretty... weird.

So, here is my family radius in a nutshell.

Me, Mom, Sister.

Down the street: My dad, and mom's ex husband.... I'll leave it at that.

Down the street: My dad's sister, my Aunt, whom has not had the best relationship with my mother since the divorce--to say the least.

Down the street: My dad's brother, my uncle, who has a physical and mental disability from an accident years ago. No one in his family talks to them, since they all hate his wife. Two kids, one sort of antisocial, the other, very ill from bad choices he's made, and very unpopular in his neighborhood, also due to bad choices he's made.

Down the street: Relatives who I commonly refer to as "Satan and his wife." Who take advantage of the weak and helpless--the true, kick you when you're down type Samaritan. The kind of people who, every time an ambulance goes racing by, the whole neighborhood wonder if they've finally gotten what karma's got coming to them. Sounds distasteful out of context, but if you only knew.

So, yeah, I laugh to myself as I read this ad. I wonder if there is a cash prize big enough to be worth the embarrassment of exploiting my family. I'm sure they'd get over their hatred of me if I were to offer them a piece of the prize. But how could I live with myself for bringing myself into the same light of "John and Kate Plus Eight" or one of those other lame reality shows. Then I think of Spouse Swap, where you can see the hatred on camera, but they edit it out to make everyone look all "happily ever after" in the end.

I couldn't imagine that in my family.

Christmas Shopping

So, I've gotten most of my Christmas shopping out of the way. Translation: the people I care about most, I've already bought for. Just kidding. Well, maybe just kidding.

Let's try this:
Dad, CHECK
Homemakerman, CHECK
Tumbleweed, CHECK
Peanut, CHECK
Pumpkinman, CHECK... Wait... Oh, yeah, definite CHECK.
Jerk...... CRAP
McPreggers CRAP
Mom, Huge CRAP!
Sister, half CHECK half CRAP

Speaking of crap, have I mentioned I'm deep in doodoo? I mean, my sister can live. I bought her a game, some language learning software, and one other mystery gift--which is a mystery only because I can't remember what it was. But what about Mom? What can I get her? And what about Jerk and McPreggers?

Since they are expecting their first born, I was going to buy them baby stuff, but apparently that's too taboo. I'm really bad at this "people-being-pregnant" thing. They say it's bad luck to give baby presents before the baby is born. Stupid superstitions are cramping my gift-giving style.

It's sad, but I really want to give them something they want; "Nothing don't worry about us," they tell me, or sarcastically reply, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth."

Well, I give up, but what about Mom? I gave Dad a digital camera this year--bringing him, in style, into the technological age of cameras. I'd say he was tickled pink. But how do I upstage that? And what do I buy Mom? I've already gotten her an iPod, Nintendo DS, and jewelry... none of which she ever uses, unless I hound her to (and that doesn't count). I really don't know.

So, now I don't know what I'm doing for Christmas. I don't know what I'm buying people for Christmas. And I don't really know when Christmas is.. better look at a calendar... At least I'm in the spirit this year.