Saturday nights in Suburbia

Usually my weekends are occupied with "us" time, but this weekend, I found myself in the posession of a other-halfless Saturday night. I was pretty excited at the prospect of hanging out with some pre-"marriage" drinking buddies, namely, my friend VodkaSoda.

I hadn't heard from VS in quite some time. I was pretty convinced that I wouldn't ever hear from him again, but then he called me out of the blue about a month ago.

VS has a alittle bit of a drinking problem. He has somehow managed to acquire four DWIs. Sometime last fall, he was stumbling around drunk in front of the recently aforementioned South Beach. I've seen VS stumble as he's been ridiculously intoxicated, and I'm not at all surprised that he managed to get slapped with violation for Public Intoxication. Aparently, getting a PI was in violation of his 10 years probation for his four DWIs, and a judge decided that he was a good candidate for a six-month "inpatient" program. (Read: inpatient = prison with group therapy)

Now VS is back out, and ready to begin his life anew. Not drinking is not an option, so he simply swore off vodka, and drinks things like beer and rum instead.

Tonight, we were supossed to meet and grab a drink for a fairly low-key night out. He called me at more or less noon, ready to begin the festivities. I had lots to do, but told him I'd call after 5 or so and meet up with him later, as we were supposed to hang out in the evening.

At 6-ish, I was headed down I-10 into town, and he informed me, somewhat slurrily, that they were at a bar in Montrose and I should come join them.

Upon arriving at the bar, I called again to verify that he was still at the bar he had mentioned to me. The conversion went as follows:

Me: "Hey!"

VS: "mumble mumble"

Me: "You there?"

VS: "Yea, I'mm shtill hurrr..."

Me: "So you're still at the same place?"

VS: "wull, I dunno where I wazsh when I talked to you.... but I think.... I've moved..."

Me: "So, where are you now?"

VS: "We're mumble mumble getting mumble eat."

Me: "That sounds like it's probably a pretty good idea."

VS: "Sho, mumble mumble coming?"

Me: "I think I'll pass. I'll talk to you later, VS."

VS: "K. Bye"

So I drove from the gay bar to the closest M.A.C. counter to get a lipglass replacement, and then came home. I was in my kitchen baking by 8.

I think things like this are why I primarily prefer solitude.

It's gonna be a long year...

Cockroach count: 11

Today's High: 79 (so far... it's only 10:30)

My classroom sucks. I've killed at least one cockroach (huge ones) in each of my classes. Friday, I had one flying in front of the overhead. Flying.

It's also hotter than Hades in here. After two days of sweating my tail off, I decided I would bring a thermometer up to school to see how hot it really was. On Friday, my thermometer was reading 84 degrees by the end of the day. Add 25 kids with that middle-school funk, and my room was an odorific nightmare.

Stellar.

south beach

Over two years ago, I did that South Beach diet and lost a bunch of weight. I gained it all back, and then some.

That's not what this entry is about.

It's 4:20 on a Saturday morning, and I've been wide awake for well over an hour, mainly because my throat is in excruciating pain.

I finally concluded that an early a.m. Walgreens - run was probably the best course of action, and left for the nearest 24-hour store, a good 10 minutes away.

I had my radio tuned to the local Mix station, and heard a super-commercial for South Beach, your friendly local mega gay dance club, just blocks away from my old place. "Follow the spotlights..."
On the local Mix station.

I guess that's 4:45 on a Saturday morning for you. (Been a long time since I've seen it...)

The first days of school...

Tomorrow is the first day of school with kids. I say "with kids" because unofficially, I have been back up at school for the past two and a half weeks, moving, unpacking boxes, setting up my classroom, etc...

I have been thrust back into this school year kicking and screaming. I am so not ready. I have spent many, many hours whining and bitching and crying because I DO NOT want to back at school.

Last year ended badly for me. There were issues with administration and politics and drama that I simply did not want to deal with. I feared the beginning of school like one fears the apocalypse.

But here it is. The first day of school. And here's what I have to say.

Bring it on, Motherfrackers.

My job is to teach children. I may be a math teacher, but I don't teach math. I teach children. I am not going to let the administration tear me apart inside and let my emotions interfere with my ability to do my job. 99% of the time it's just me and those kids alone in the classroom, and it's my job to facilitate their learning.

I've decided that I don't care what the administration says or does or the games they play. I'll do what I'm told to do, and then return to my classroom to do my job. My job, teaching children.

I guess I'm more ready than I thought.

Bring on the kids...

“Be a first rate version of yourself, not a second rate version of someone else”

When I was in high school, I met this amazingly cool girl at volleyball camp who wore a ring just above the second knuckle on her pinky finger. The ring was a simple, thin gold band that had been in her family for years, and looked subtly natural, despite its unorthodox positioning. She had started wearing the ring years before, and her skin had grown so accustomed to the ring that her finger actually bore a somewhat permanent indention where the ring sat on her finger.

For some reason, I always thought that was one of the hippest things I'd ever seen, and I was determined to recreate the effect on myself. As a teen, I tried to start wearing ring above the second knuckle on a few of my fingers, but I've just never been a very big ring person. It never took. I decided that I just wasn't cool enough, and would let that desire to have a finger-ridge fade.

~~~~

Also in high school, I uncovered a small silver band adorned with a turquoise apple from amongst my masses of souvenir jewelry. I really liked that ring, but since my fingers had grown larger since I'd acquired it as a youth, I decided that I would slide the ring on the second largest toe of my left foot.

I left the ring there for a while, and my foot grew accustomed to it. It got to the point where it felt more peculiar to not be wearing it than to be wearing it. By my junior year, the ring had become a permanent fixture on my foot, and I hardly noticed any longer. A few times, classmates even pointed it out and called me weird, as toe rings were not quite the rage eleven or twelve years ago as they are these days. I shrugged off the comments and continued to wear my ring.

After a few years, the silver band on my apple ring fell apart. I quickly replaced it with an actual toe-ring from a sterling silver outlet, simply because I couldn't tolerate the nakedness of my toe... it felt odd. I still wear that $5 ring on my toe, and I can't recall ever having taken it off.

To get to my point, I was getting my toes done today, and most uncommonly, the pedicurist actually removed my toe ring. As she did so, I noticed something. The second toe on my left foot had a dent. I bent over and felt it, and it was definitely there... a somewhat permanent indention, similar to the one I had seen years before, the one I had longed to mimic. I shrugged and smiled to myself, thinking back to girl I had once known.

It seems that the things we admire in others don't always work for ourselves, but its weird how when you do accomplish that something, it really doesn't mean what you thought it would.

I guess Judy Garland said it best...

slowly emerging from techno-phobia

My mom has learned how to text message. I am so very proud of her. She has sent me several text messages in the past 24 hours.

And she signs them all: Love, Mom

the teacher otherwise known as Sasquatch

The other day I was in the workroom at school, and a teacher who I don't know very well came in to make a few copies. She's not known for being sociable, but I was feeling affable and offered forth two simple questions. (Hey! How are you? How was your summer?) To both questions, she responded "Okey-Dokey."

Not once. Twice. Two "okey-dokeys" in a fifteen second span.

That's just weird.