nothin' funny 'bout it

when i was in oregon visiting family, i began to realize even more fully that i am becoming a real live adult. part of this realization was that this town that i have visited for 10 or 12 years looks different. not that the things i saw weren't there, just that my eyes were blind to them.

things like the large, yellow sign with large, black lettering right next to the highway which reads "adult shop" ug.

things like the bums, everywhere. desperate need. lifestyle. maybe a bit of both?

things like the houses which weren't built on the hill, or near the 'like, totally cool' shopping areas.

with age and knowledge comes responsibility.

as a broken human leaning on the only thing out there that makes any sense...how can i look at that stuff and not help as i am helped? but i do. i sit at my little computer and write my little blogs about the amusing things of late. hrmmm.

on a completely and utterly unrelated note, i'm a workaholic. seriously. my dad was an alcoholic. apparently, i chose work as my part of the 'continuing the 'aholic' lifestyle'. i just took another long term sub. 5th grade. wretched class. lots of work. lots of plans. maybe i'm not a workaholic, maybe i'm just avoiding my impending fate of teaching. but i don't want to be a teacher. i want to own an espresso shop. too much thinking right before bed causes strange dreams. here they come i spose. and off i go.

who says good things don't come from canada?

for a nation with fewer inhabitants than california...i think canada is pretty rad. kinnie starr comes from canada. apologies for the flesh. 1:59 and 2:07 are my favorite moments.



thomas mackey also comes from canada. he and his lovely wife are two of the major reasons i love God. literally! on more than one occasion thomas has been my wise sage and katie has been my buoy of hope and walking self-esteem.

this may seem like a paltry list, but this song and this couple are reason enough to say that canadia rocks my socks.

little known facts about baristas

who doesn't love a good list now and then?

off we go then:

1. baristas' hands and hair smell like espresso after work. this is best appreciated by hugs.

2. baristas get extraordinarily giddy and excited when friends come to visit them on shift.

3. children who ring the bell several times in a row are baristas' favorite customers.

4. baristas compete nightly for a 'personal best time' in the little known olympic event entitled "running frantically back from the creepy back alley garbage cans"

5. baristas enjoy introducing their friends to espresso, forcing them to "taste the flavors" - who are we kidding, we know espresso is bitter!

6. inviting a barista to choose your drink for you is like licking a gold star and sticking it to her forehead while simultaneously naming your firstborn after her.

7. baristas get sad when people they enjoy come to visit and it's too busy to give a hug and chit chat about obama.

8. baristas think it's fun to sing loudly to fiona apple when no one else is in the shop. occasionally someone enters the shop during such singing, unbeknownst to the barista.

9. baristas like trying to guess what drink a person will order before it happens. they think practicing enhances their psychic skills.

10. passing on barista skills to new converts is the ultimate joy of all baristas.

11. baristas think it's really funny when people say they'd like some "expresso"

12. serving three cups of gelato to the same child in a two hour time period (in lieu of dinner) frightens baristas.

13. baristas also compete in an unknown olympic event called "hold your pants up with one hand while scrubbing nasty floor sinks with the other". this event is held as few times in a given week as is possible.

14. baristas should never drink caffeine after 6pm, because it keeps them up writing pointless, but hopefully amusing blogs.

retribution

"revenge is mine" quoth she.

definitely went back to big fat ugly kid's class today.

guess who wasn't there. yep. big fat ugly kid.

he, along with 3 others, were given in-house suspensions.

woot woot.

today was efficient, productive, respectful, and quiet.

"revenge is mine" quoth me.

waking up to helots and hooligans

another interesting sub day.

in normal world, teachers leave a single note explaining time frames, activities, and behavior expectations piled neatly on top of the teacher's guides for each subject.

i'm not a lazy sub. really. but it is lovely when teachers perform in the expected manner, making things...oh. about 1,000 times less difficult than what i encountered today. let's rewind.

phone begins vibrating and sounding off 'high chimes', in a groggy haze of sleep i reach for the phone

(impressed by my own ability to a) wake up instantaneously b) answer the phone simultaneously and c) type both my social security number and the pound key at...5:38 am yech)

i listen alertly as possible to a robotic voice "there is a substitute position available...kindergarten...full day...(insert name of school)....(insert name of teacher) press 1 to accept this position or 4 to decline."

(wait a minute, i think i recognize this name. oh, i remember this teacher. i remember these kids. it was torture. there were no lesson plans and 20 bodies to keep occupied for 3 1/2 hours.)

($130...hrm...babysitting helots and hooligans....$130....torture...money wins)

*presses 1* and so began my day of additional torture. as if yesterday was not bad enough i:

1) walked in to find, not a neatly stacked note but rather scrawled messages in dried out crayola marker scattered around the messiest room i've ever seen

2) figured out which of the crazies were absent, wait, who's that kid screaming and spinning in circles?

3) kept 20 first-time assembly watchers silent at the perfect attendance gathering

4) completed randomly placed assignments, in no particular order

5) made sure none were taken home by strangers, perhaps the biggest feat.

oh kindergarten.

the greeks called all conquered barbarians helots. though ancient greek is quite nearly a dead language, this term should most definitely never be forgotten.

did i mention i'm going back to big fat ugly kid's class tomorrow? ;)

my acrylics are grossing me out

it's definitely time to take these fake, acrylic nails off. nasty.

also nasty...let me relate an amusing incident from today. perhaps the most childish i've been in a long time. unfortunately it was while i was substitute teaching. but it felt good.

so this kid asks me for directions about a paper, i tell him, "ok, do blah blah blah"

"she's lying!" says the kid next to him.

(did that kid just call me a liar? in public?? yes. he did...)

"do you realize that you just called me a liar?"

"oh, i was just kidding" he says.

(sure dorkwad)

"really, just kidding? it doesn't work that way. that's very hurtful and disrespectful."

"what's the big deal i was just kidding."

(and here's the part i'm ashamed of. a little bit.)

"you're big fat and ugly." "oh. just kidding." says miss ward, a 25 year old...to a 13 year old.

(apparently i'm not perfect...and all this time i thought...ha)

"whoah! you can say that to students?!" says the first kid.

"i was "just kidding" right?"

big fat ugly kid continues disrespectful comments.

"you have now earned detention. do you want to keep going?"

(hoping this snotty ass little kid backs down at a show of bravado)

"just wait" he says standing up. "my mom's going to call mr. williams (the principal) and i won't have to serve detention at all and you're going to get in trouble."

"oh, but i thought it was ok to say things if you say just kidding afterwards? and you will have to serve detention. sit down unless you want to go see mr. williams immediately."

(thinking she has magically conjured him up...) mr. williams walks into the room.

(oh for the grace of God)

"hey mr. williams, let me relate a little story to you. it's been a wild day..."

(happy to have 'confessed' before the little mongrel can claim i harassed him, smiling as i hear the following out of the principal's mouth)

"oh miss ward, he'll probably serve more than one detention for saying that."

(no comment on my lapse in judgment. what a frackin' ridiculous world we live in that i couldn't just whollop his bony little bottom!)

that is all.

i might write a book of these treasures. you'd be surprised how many of them happen in a day.

the guillemots and other wonders.

ok, maybe not wonders. but, the guillemots, yes. a strange musical group to say the least. vaguely melodic, but the erratic beats are appealing to me in this moment. inconsistency i think.

i heard a friend describe a person as 'melancholy' - "you know, prone to depression and thinks all the time and very...realistic about everything"

am now thinking, this is probably an appropriate word for me. i'm not bi-polar or anything that pronounced, but i'm up and down. for every high, there's an equal low. another bommy-ism.

and now, a story.

my dad had a martin guitar, his favorite and certainly most treasured guitar. after he died my brother and i agreed that i would have it (bri got the ovation, another treasure). i hauled it back to turlock to discover it's true state...one of disrepair :( so, boyfriend at the time said he would get it fixed. i let him keep it for 3 months after the break up, hoping he might still do it. not so much.

so i decided i wanted it back. so i called. he didn't answer. then he called back later. when i asked to drop by he said he's leave it on the porch for me. oh? going somewhere? no he says. he just doesn't have anything to say to me.

i know in some twisted way he was trying to protect us from unfortunate events, but ouch. suck in fact.

i took the lower road (but not the lowest) and said fine. then hung up on him. i've only hung up on anyone a handful of times. this was one of those times.

so i go to pick up the guitar and it is not, in fact, on said porch. he runs off to get said treasured guitar from back room closet. i took it from him without eye contact, because my eyes are flooded with tears due to the pathos of the situation. i turn to leave.

wait he says. i thought he had nothing to say? i don't feel like you were honest with me from the beginning he says. i thought he was afraid I would start a long conversation. he's not over it he says. i thought we were done with these talks. after a few more words exchanged, we stand silently staring, 20 feet apart. bye, i said and turned and walked away.

suck, in fact.

it sucks to see another person crying.

breath of fresh air.

mood? celebratory. reason? oh, let me enumerate the method:

1. loney and pete are married *fat sigh of relief*

2. done with my long-term sub, back to no-commitment, day by day *big fat sigh of relief*

3. only have to work one job tomorrow *sigh of relief*

4. took a two hour nap today *fatty sigh of zzzzzz*

and that's it. ahhhhhhhhhhh. joy is unaltering and deep, yes. but that does not change the fact that sadness is wearisome. it's so beautiful to feel rested and ready for what's next. conscious of the moment in which my soul resides.

i may or may not have cried randomly again today. my bommy (grandma) used to say that tears are God's release valve. veritas verbatim. why did i cry?

a brief aside. before the answer. i think i found my music twin. her name is meghan and she works with me at the coffee shop. who else on earth has heard of maria mena?? the two other people that bought her "indie" release from target's "up and coming" section, perhaps? ha.

so, maria mena is the reason i cried. here's why: it was like reliving my mitch break up in 3 minutes. although ours was mutual.

"Sorry"

Vague sound of rain
pierces through my song again
but I get distracted by the way his toes move when he plays
so I let it burn

I just poured my heart out
there's bits of it on the floor
And I take what's left of it and rinse it under cold water
And call him up for more

And I say baby, yes I feel stupid to call you, but I'm lonely
And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me
And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do, you'd feel it too

He said I'm sorry
so sorry
I'm sorry
so sorry

He grabs my wrists
as my fingers turn into angry fists
and I wisper why can't you love me, I'll change for you
I'll play the part

And I say baby, so I feel stupid to call you, but I'm lonely
And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me
And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do, you'd feel it too

He said I'm sorry
so sorry
I'm sorry
I am sorry

i just can't be the type of wife he wants. although, in total honesty, sometimes it seems easier to try to play the part. it's just that i know it would leave me emptier than i feel right now. 2, 5, 15 years? who knows how long it would take, but eventually i'd have to own up to the pervasive emptiness.

so floweth the tears. strong enough not to call, but definitely empty enough to cry. again though, tears of relief somehow. thank God. literally. for the first time in my life, i was this vast empty space to be filled by the one person who can fill it, the Designer of my Soul.

on that nota profundus, off to bed.