I hate the way I look in photos. Out of a gajillion pictures of me, I'd be lucky to find one or two that I actually like.
I never look like myself, and I'm always examining my skin for imperfections.
It's ridiculous, I know, but it's the truth.
This picture is from a couple of days ago. I want to remember it because it's the first picture of myself I've seen in a long time where I look content.
It's good to be content again.
I was reading this article today, and two points jumped off the page...
Actual human beings uttered these words:
"Both my daughters have said they want to be Miss America, but I tell them it's not that easy."
And these:
"I came here as a child with my grandparents, and I want my daughter to experience it."
Please. Someone please tell me women who live and breathe in the year 2003 are not encouraging this kind of objectification. Please tell me they are encouraging their daughters to read books, participate in sports and the arts and appreciate the fine humor of "Spongebob Squarepants."
I realize I am delusional, but a girl can dream, can't she?
I can say with a fair amount of certainty that the people I'm quoting actually believe the Miss America Pageant is about SCHOLARSHIP. Sha!
How do I know this? Because I WAS THERE. I was there and I saw the mess with my own two eyes behind red and lime green nerd glasses.
Another quote from the article:
"It was real easy to find the Clay Aiken fans in Boardwalk Hall.
They were casually dressed and carried no placards and wore no buttons supporting their favorite contestant."
Words cannot begin to describe how this quote is the understatement of the century. We, the Clay Aiken Contingency, stood out like friggin' sore thumbs compared to the peeps all decked out for this ridiculous event.
Perhaps this will explain:
THEM
US
THEM
US
THEM
US
THEM
US
THEM
US
THEM
US
THEM
I'll take my friends in their birkenstock sandals, windblown hair, tee shirts and jeans over sprayed hair, inches of makeup and too-tight overpriced prom dresses ANY DAY.
Oh, and Clay was amazing.
I will pay bills tonight. I will pay bills tonight. I will pay bills tonight.
End of useless mantra.
In case you aren't aware, the most horrible thing about a career in early childhood education is the lack of original songs for children that are worth a rat's ass.
The majority of songs used in early childhood education are trite verses penned to familiar tunes, such as "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."
I'm going to admit that I dig The Wiggles a little, but only because I think they're gay, and I believe children should be exposed to healthy doses of blatant queeniness at an early age.
Raffi, however, can go to hell.
Apparently, I'm not the only one who despises the musical state of affairs in early childhood education. My colleague was welcomed Monday morning by this, apparently in response to the poster of "The Rainbow Song" she had affixed to her door.
Based on the spelling errors, I'm going to assert that the person who left this message is definitely right-brained and can look forward to a bright future as a musician.
I hope one day the vandal will write some decent f'n music for children. Until then, I'm letting them listen to Clay Aiken.
Have you ever taken the top off of an Elmer's glue bottle, turned it upside down and squeezed out the entire contents? If you haven't, I highly recommend it.
This activity naturally followed one from a few days ago, when I encouraged my students to pour glue into their palms, let it dry, and peel it off. It's a great feeling.
Here's what my classroom looks like at the end of a typical day.
Apparently it is necessary to dump out every toy, puzzle and manipulative on the giant rug.
Removing one's shoes is fun, until a bloodcurdling scream emanates from the mouth of a child who has had their foot rocked upon by a wooden boat containing the full body weight of four of her peers.
Oh, look. More mess. What exactly were they doing?
Hey, did you know gluesticks make great crayons? Well, they do.
Also, be sure to use at least three glue sticks AND a bottle of Elmer's when collaging. Do not bother to put the caps on any of them. That's just pointless.
Should I be concerned about this?
Remember when I said I wouldn't talk about my career in my blog? I love what I do too much to keep quiet about it. If a child in my class hasn't painted their hands and face, gotten sand under their fingernails and danced for no good reason every single day, I'm not doing my job, yo.
...for Melissa
Phase One: Before American Idol
Clay
Clay's Car
Phase Two: American Idol
Clay
Clay's Car
Phase Three: After American Idol
Clay
Clay's Car
Dream Phase: Pimped Out Mack Daddy
Clay
Clay's Car
Clay's Parking Spot Sign At His New L.A. Digs
Thursday afternoon, I gathered my students in a circle on the rug for songs and movement. I looked at the child next to me and saw a hint of green in his ear. I reached over and pulled out a small ball of playdough. It's not unusual to find foreign objects in the facial orifices of my students, so I just removed the playdough, no questions asked.
Yesterday I discovered why he had a small ball of green playdough in his ear. While the other students were rolling and smushing and cutting playdough,(which, by the way, is encouraged because working with playdough improves and strengthens a child's fine motor skills and better prepares them to hold a pencil. Plus it smells good and it's all squishy.) Playdough In The Ears Boy was taking huge chunks of playdough and jamming them in his ears. I had to intervene. I'm sure the minute I was out of his sight, he was shoving green playdough back into his aural canal.
Two years ago, I had a student who liked to eat foamy puzzle pieces. He especially preferred blue or yellow alphabet pieces. Right before I'd stick my finger in his mouth to retrieve the object, he'd swallow it.
When I taught second grade, one of my students arrived at school one morning looking somewhat different. I said, "Trevor. You look different... Where are your eyebrows?" Trevor replied, "I shaved them off." I inquired, "Why?" Trevor's response: "I just wanted to see what I would look like without eyebrows." Fair enough. Not long after, his white-blond hair was pink. He used food coloring to dye it.
For most of my life, I've made decisions based on whether or not I would please others. I've done things just to belong, to get attention, to be the perfect daughter. Some of my choices serendipitously turned out to be right for me. Others, not so much. The main point is, I hadn't made choices for myself. I tailored my actions and decisions around the effect they would have on everyone else but me.
I'm learning to make choices for myself without running to other people for validation and approval. It's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but I'm doing it because it's necessary.
I'm shoving playdough in my ears, eating puzzle pieces and shaving off my eyebrows just to see what I'd look like without them.
How difficult is it to return a shopping cart to the cart corral at Target, I ask you?
In the thirty odd minutes I spent in the store last night, no less than five shopping carts were left around the perimeter of my parking spot. Is it that exhausting to walk 15 feet, pushing a container ON WHEELS so people can actually back out of a space without playing shopping cart dominoes? Apparently so.
I think the asshats who leave their carts all over the parking lot are the same people who walk like f'n snails in front of me in the store. I've got shit to buy, people. Get a move on. And I love how they decide the best time to attempt a normal walking speed is when I'm trying to weave around them. All of a sudden, they're f'n roadrunners.
And who are the people who eat entire MEALS at the Target snack bar? They bring their kids and have a family dinner right there in the red booths. The smell of that snack bar makes me want to hurl the minute I walk through the door. The idea of SITTING DOWN AND EATING DINNER AT TARGET is just too much for me to comprehend.
I do like those blue slurpees, though.
I attended a private, Catholic high school for girls. If anyone out there is considering sending their daughter to a school like this, be aware that rebellion and deceit are subjects of the unwritten curriculum. Plus your daughter will be surrounded by many other girls whose families can actually afford to send them there, and those girls have credit cards and cars. I�m just warning you.
There are pros and cons to this type of high school experience. I could ramble on and on about them, but I think actual excerpts from my high school�s handbook speak volumes on the subject.
PRO
The English department offers the finest training in reading comprehension and writing mastery available anywhere. Yearly unsolicited accolades come from former students as well as their college professors regarding the singular skill of the "****** trained writer."
CON
Dress Code
. All students must be dressed appropriately and modestly, as conforms to the mission of ******. Skirts, dresses and only dress khaki pants may be worn. A general check of the dress code shall take place daily during homeroom. If the administration/faculty feels a student�s clothing is inappropriate, she must change. Each subsequent infraction of the dress code not only results in change of clothes, but the student receives automatic detention. Final decisions in matters of dress code shall be made by the principal.
. If the skirt or dress falls above the knee, it is to be worn with stockings or tights that completely cover the leg. Thigh-highs (to cover legs) are not permitted. Skirt length shall not be shorter than mid-thigh. Skirts that are tattered, frayed or generally sloppy in appearance are not suitable.
. If a student wears khaki pants, she must have a collared shirt or blouse and wear shoes, not sneakers. Pants may only be khaki color and dress cut, no wide leg. This should be a dress up look; therefore, no sweatshirts may be worn with pants. In addition, stretch khakis are not permitted. Dress khakis such as Dockers are an appropriate pant. A jean-cut or jean-look is not acceptable.
. Students should avoid clothing that is too short, too tight, too revealing or is in bad need of repair.
. No split skirts, skorts or one-piece pant outfits (long or short) are permitted
. No tank, crop, spaghetti straps, strapless, controversial or �R� rated tops are permitted.
. Any garment, top or bottom, from which underwear shows is inappropriate for school.
. Footwear should be appropriate for school. Students may wear sandals, but the following are not permitted: backless sandals, sports sandals, clogs, tevas, and mules. Platform shoes with excessively high heels, which would be dangerous in corridors and stairways, are discouraged for school wear.
. Outerwear, including hats, may NOT be worn during school hours. This includes coats, jackets, windbreakers, ski vests, hats and mittens.
. Bizarre hair color or style, shaved or partially shaved heads, excessive make-up or ornaments worn in any part of the body that is pierced, with the exception of ears, is inappropriate for school. Visible tattoos are not permitted in school.
. Any article of clothing, jewelry, or accessory that promotes drinking, drugs, tobacco or lifestyle contrary to the gospel values is inappropriate for school.
. On dress down days, the following will NOT be permitted: jeans with holes or frayed bottoms, windpants, sweatpants, lycra, spandex, leggings.
. Proper dress code also applies for school -sponsored functions.
When I attended, pants were not allowed. And I once got detention for a lack of socks/stockings.
I wasn't going to go to my 20 year reunion, but I think I might, just so I can wear one of these shirts. Oh, the preppy little Land's Enders will just LOVE me.
Thanks, Kat, for encouraging my insomnia.
And for old times' sake...
Wouldn't Clay be a great celebrity guest on Sesame Street?
Oh, oh, oh! He could sing a song about colors just for children!
Ernie is ORANGE!
Bert and Big Bird are YELLOW!
Oscar the Grouch is GREEN!
Cookie Monster and Grover are BLUE!
The Count is PURPLE!
...and for the GROWN-UPS...
Clay is PINK!
Oh so PINK.
Well, this is just great. I've managed to corrupt "Sesame Street". Good for me.
I can always count on Gump to provide entertaining links for me to peruse in my heightened state of insomnia.
One o'clock in the morning is the perfect time to check out this South Park link.
True to my personality quiz results, I made a South Park character of MYSELF.
Anyone who knows me in real life can attest to the fact that this character looks remarkably like me when I was a kid. Actually, it looks a hell of a lot like me now. I've just given up the pigtails. Mostly.
This has nothing to do with my South Park character, but I once told Amy I thought Aladdin was hot for a cartoon.
Don't worry...I don't find Cartman attractive.
I have an addiction. It's not drugs or alcohol. I don't touch the stuff. Okay, I touch red wine in very small doses, but that's all.
I'm addicted to Time Life Collections.
Seriously.
I may have mentioned before that I have this slight problem of spending insane amounts of money just before and during the months in which I do not receive a paycheck. Cha-ching.
This summer was the year of Time Life Collections. Normally, I'm an amazon girl, but this summer I was seduced by Time Life and their sexy infomercials. I don't sleep at night and it's usually the time I make rash decisions about how to squander my earnings.
Currently, I own the following collections. "Modern Rock (80s)", "Ultimate 70s", "Singers and Songwriters" and "The Classic Rhythm and Blues Collection".
I made the stupendous mistake of acquiring the "Modern Rock" collection through the traditional method of having volumes delivered to my home every four to six weeks - with the option of sending back any discs that didn't meet with my complete satisfaction. Big f'n mistake. I just realized two days ago that there are, in fact, some volumes I do not own!
If you don't know this about me, I am just obsessive compulsive enough for this to be a big deal in my life. I seriously think about the CDs I don't have. I must get them. I need them. An incomplete collection is unacceptable. I wish my mild OCD manifested in a need to clean and scour my house rather than a need to organize computer files and alphabetize my CD collection, goddammit.
Once I FINALLY purchase the remaining "Modern Rock" volumes out of which I was cheated, I plan to move on to DVD collections. The "Best of Saturday Night Live" and "Beavis and Butthead" collections are calling my name in the night.
Sure, I could go to the video store and rent some of this stuff, but to me, that's just stupid. First of all, I like to watch shit over and over until I have memorized enough to be completely annoying to my friends with random quoting and singing. I am especially skilled at coming up with a theme song to suit any occasion. I'm pretty proud of that.
Secondly, I suck at returning videos on time. I usually pay more in late fees than it would have cost me to buy the friggin' thing in the first place. If Target can sell me a DVD for $14.44, or $9.44, or better yet, $5.44, how can I leave that in the store?
See, it's logical.
I'm finally getting around to answering Gump's questions.
Questions for Danielle Part 2
1) Some people ask, �What�s the meaning of life?� which is a pretty awful question. I often ask, �What is the point of life?� The subtle difference is this. The first implies that there is meaning and that we just have to find it. The second implies that living happens. Why does it happen? The answer can be simple or grand, but its all of from your perspective.
Sure, kick my ass with the first friggin� question. Well, here�s how I see it. I�ve spent the greater part of my adult life pretending to be happier than I am in reality. I spent a hell of a lot of time trying to please other people and not enough time being me. That�s the whole point of life. If you�re not true to yourself, it�s misery. Why does living happen? I used to think it was to reach certain goals by a certain time or age. That�s bullshit to me now. Today I think living happens to challenge us to be more of ourselves every day. This is what happens. Instead of having to reach for the goal, it bends down and gives you its hand.
2) What is something that you slacked off in, but think you could have, or should have tried harder. Why didn�t you?
Easy question. I slacked off in high school and college. My English degree is in Cliff�s notes, and I guarantee you if the online translator existed when I was in school, my French degree would have been earned through that baby. I think I didn�t try hard because school was always easy for me and I got good grades by putting forth minimal effort. Here�s my deal. If someone tells me to do something, I want to do the opposite. School was all about demands. Where were the choices? I need choices. When I have an interest in learning something, I pursue the knowledge with the fire of a thousand suns. (Thanks, Melissa, for that one, I love it.) Otherwise, I�m all �feh�.
3) I know that at some point in you life you wanted children. Why do you want children? What kind of parent would you want to be? If your child would only take three things you told him/her when they grew up; what would you choose those three things to be?
I am going to be the best goddamn parent in the world. Seriously. Being with children is my gift in this life. It�s what I do. It�s like breathing to me. Why do I want children? Life is miraculous. I don�t mean that in a Jesusy way, I just mean I think it�s a miracle that a woman�s body can help create and grow another human being. Amazing. I want to have that experience. About the three things I want my children to take with...I don�t want to be the one to tell them the three most important things. I want my children to figure that out for themselves.
4) Word Art association. I will give you ten sentences; you will give me the first thing that pops into your head; a word, a phrase, a story, or a sentence. WARNING: These are going to be odd and are structured that way to see how your head works. Don�t over think. I also have made sure everything is not incorrect. All errors and spelling mistakes are done on purpose.
Dude, I f�n hate these, but I�m gonna try.
--God is the man who bites the back on neck when we are in bed together.
I don�t want to hear the words �God� and �in bed together� used in the same sentence ever again.
--A butterfly flips through the air trying to land, but the wind is too strong.
Wheee! Flipping is fun!
--She had a tongue ring. I couldn�t help thinking it. I just wish she wasn�t my son.
If my kid turned out to be a tongue ring wearing transexual, that would be okay with me. As long as she's happy.
--When you are this high up, even the sun seems small.
I�m scared to fly. But I�m going to do it.
--The only ones left at the scene were the guilty
Stupid bastards should have run faster.
--pourange
Chlorophyll? More like BOROPHYLL!
--Do you want jippa, or gungo?
Dude, I don�t take drugs.
--That�s how this stuff is.
I need to clean out my refrigerator.
--The harder you work, the more they love you.
The more you slack off, the more I love you.
--When I was little, I spilt wax on my leg and it burned me.
My cousin once told me to sit in front of a sun lamp for 20 minutes to get a tan. I sat too close and burned my entire face. Blisters and everything. It friggin� hurt.
--My life is what you make it. My destiny is in your hands.
That�s too much pressure for anyone. Make your own destiny.
5) This is something where you saw others embarrassed. Think of a story where you witness someone getting embarrassed and tell us what happened? How did you react?
I have been embarrassed a few choice times, but watching someone else get embarrassed is worse. In third grade, we put on a play about mice. Kate�s skirt fell off during one of the scenes. The other kids laughed. Kate cried. It was the first time I ever felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. It wasn�t the skirt falling off that made her cry. It was the reaction. My students are three, four and five years old. Many of them haven�t learned to judge yet. It�s a beautiful age.
Bonus: Would you rather be deaf or mute? Gotta pick one and tell me why!!!
I�d have to pick deaf because there�s no way I can keep my mouth shut for five minutes. Impossible. You should know that by now!