By now it's not news to anyone who knows us that the Chamaco occasionally has moments of startling maturity. The one that stands out most clearly in my mind happened when he was 4. We were in the car (as we usually are when these moments occur) and he was weighing out loud the pros and cons of living at my house versus living at his dad's house. His closing statement to his own argument was this: "I think I like living at your house better, because you have rules. Daddy doesn't have any rules, really, and that just doesn't seem safe to me."
It helps that he's the sort of kid you can talk to with explanations like, "When I make rules, I'm not just trying to spoil your fun. I make rules to keep you safe, to keep you healthy, and to help you grow up to be a good person." And he accepts this. We'll see if he still believes me when he's a teenager...
But as it stands now he's eight years old. Most of the time he's content to run around making machine gun noises, play video games, and spout trivia about things that I have no knowledge of or interest in either one. But every now and then we get in a car and drive a long way, and the Chamaco has inherited his father's non-comprehension of the term "comfortable silence" - any silence occurring when there is at least one other person present must immediately be filled. So Saturday night we were driving home from la casa de mis tíos in the dark and he started talking. I'm pretty sure he thinks out loud.
"I think it's time I had some chores," he announced.
We had touched on this topic before, but I could tell from his tone of voice that this time he meant business. "That's a good idea," I said. "What sort of chores would you like to have?"
"I'm not sure. What are some things I could do?"
He's been helping me fold laundry and receiving basic folding training for a while now, so I said, "You could fold laundry... you could sweep the floor... you could pick up in your room every day..."
"And I could take out the garbage! Probably. If it's not too heavy."
"Yes, you could do that. Anything else?"
"No, I think four is good to start. And you should pay me allowance for doing chores."
I was not at all shocked by this progression in his train of thought, because only the day previous he had spent the last of his birthday/Christmas money and was now down to only $4. Fortunately I was prepared. "How much do you think you should get for doing those chores?"
"A dollar a week. Or maybe two. I don't know. What do you think?"
Much as I love the concept of cheap labor, I am a member of the so-called "Justice Generation" (as Barney puts it) and my sense of fair play won out. Also, because I know the kid, I took a gamble on the notion that after an initial gung-ho period, he'll get tired of doing the chores and opt out or complain about having to do them. Which led me to suggest, "How about we make a chart, and every day when you do a chore you can check the box. At the end of the week we'll add it up, and you can get 25 cents for every check."
My little math whiz was all over this. "Wow, Mom! That's seven dollars a week!"
I'm still older and (hopefully) smarter, though not as fast at crunching the numbers. "Not really, because two of those chores won't need to be done every day. We usually only do laundry once a week, and the garbage only needs to be taken out two or three times a week. So it'll be less than seven dollars, but definitely more than two. You're probably looking at around $4 or $4.50 most weeks."
"Sounds good. Can we start tomorrow?"
So we got home and made the chart and the details were hammered out. Sweeping and picking up his room he can do every day if he chooses to, taking out trash and folding laundry are done when necessary or when I ask. I'm not going to sit on him to pick up his room and sweep every day... I'll give him the option. He can choose not to do it, and thus choose not to earn the money. (Non-Head Start employees have no idea how very Head Start this system sounds... six months ago it probably would not have occurred to me.)
Today was Day One, and of course he very enthusiastically swept the floor. He got to the picking up his room part, worked for about five minutes, then came down and said, "I think I'm going to do that one a little bit at a time because it's a big job."
"Well yeah. It's a big job right now because your room is trashed. But if you get it picked up nice and then you make sure you pick up every day, it'll take you like two minutes."
"Yeah, I know. But I mostly cleared off the table. Does that count?"
I let him count it. Meanwhile, I was fixing dinner. He asked if he could take out the trash, which was almost full. I asked him to wait until after dinner, because I was going to be throwing some more things in there. Seeing he was a little disappointed, I told him he could go in my room and fold the laundry if he wanted. He ran upstairs, excited once more. It took him pretty much the entire time it took me to make dinner, but he folded the entire load of laundry completely without assistance, divvying things out into piles as I have shown him. He asked where he should put away my clothes and I said I'd put them away if he just left the piles in the floor, so he went and put away his own clothes in his dresser.
We ate dinner at the table together. This is a rarity... usually I sort of work through dinner. But I had tidied the kitchen up while cooking, and had finished my translating while he swept and picked up his room (though admittedly I didn't have much today), so we had dinner together. While we were eating, the lightbulb in the fixture at the bottom of the stairs exploded in a blaze of glory. So after we ate, he took out the trash and then we went to buy more lightbulbs, because I was out. And we still had half an hour before bedtime, which is completely unprecedented and largely attributable to the Chamaco doing some of the stuff I normally do so I dídn't have to. So we played Uno. And then Guess Who. Then it was time for him to go to bed.
Now this isn't a perfect system... he's not exactly a professional-level floor sweeper. The floor could probably still stand to be swept in some areas. Also he can't fold towels to my exacting standards. Enter Head Start...
One of the things they're sort of making me do is read a book called "Positive Discipline for Preschoolers". They're very pro-Positive Discipline, and the concept was totally foreign to me when I started working there. Admittedly the Chamaco is not a preschooler, but I have picked up some things from this book that do make sense regardless of his age. There's an example in the book from a child's perspective - a little girl's mother asks her to make her own bed to save Mommy some time in the morning. So the little girl tugs and smoothes and pats the sheets into place and thinks she has done a pretty good job and is well-pleased. Later Mommy comes in and fixes it. Little Girl comes away with the impression that her work was not good enough and is discouraged from even trying it again.
I had this firmly in mind as I watched the Chamaco sweep the floor. Action plan now in place.
Will I re-sweep the floor? No. He'll do it again tomorrow. Maybe he'll hit those places.
Will I criticize his work? No. This is a behavior I want to encourage, not discourage.
Will I praise him for a job well done even though it is somewhat lacking by my adult standards? Yes, definitely.
Will I ask next time as he's sweeping, "Hey, could you make sure you sweep right here? It looks like that place really needs it."? Yes, probably. And if it's still not up to my standards, hey, the kid tried. No one will die if there are a few stray crumbs on the floor for a day.
Same theory applies for folding clothes. Does it, in the long run, even matter if things are folded in a different manner than I would have folded them? No. Do I want him to continue in this behavior? Yes. Will I praise him and thank him for his help? Heck yes... I hate folding laundry. Strangely folded towels are a small price to pay for not having to fold the laundry myself, and he can fold his own clothes however he likes. No, what is more important in this situation is that the job is done and that he feels accomplished, like he contributed something.
So it's the end of Day One of the great chores/allowance experiment. He earned a full dollar today. And hopefully he's in the process of learning something about responsibility and about working for what he wants, and also feeling like a valuable, contributing member of our little broken family. I'll try to remember to update as this project progresses if anything happens that seems relevant.
Song o' the Day: "Better Sorry than Safe" - Halestorm
March 15, 2010
February 25, 2010
Surely we didn't get off THAT easily....
Those of you who know me well (all 5 of you) know that every winter I struggle with seasonal depression and the urge to crawl into a hole and not emerge from about November 1st through the beginning of July sometime.
This year hasn't been as bad as I've come to expect, and I'm not sure whether to credit living in a house with heat for the first winter of the last 8 or so years, or the fact that this winter has so far been extremely mild aside from a cold snap shortly before Christmas. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, my recurring thought is, "Surely we didn't get off THAT easily..."
Because this is Oregon, and we've had deceptively mild winters before... you know, the ones where it is rainy and only moderately cold December through February, then it turns around and snows most of March and into early April. And if there's one thing I hate, it's snow. Take one thing I hate extremely (cold) and combine it with another thing I hate extremely (wet rainyness) and you get snow, a.k.a. "the ultimate evil".
And in other hellish events, we had an inservice today. Meetings are probably #1 on my list of things I hate, though snow is a very close #2. And the first speaker of the day was, I hate to say it, rather useless. He had some very good ideas, yes, provided that you're working with wealthy, upper-middle class children from stable, two-parent families (in the case of his center, most of the children were the children of university faculty). Unfortunately, catering to low-income, high-risk families is kind of what we do and a lot of what he was talking about just really isn't workable in our program, so why was this guy speaking anyway? Much less going on about it for 3 hours. On the plus side, he had some lovely books in Italian that I was reading during the 15 minute break in his 3 hours of drivel. I might look up some of the books later... or I might not. But really, a guy who got his master's degree in French Literature but speaks Italian better than French and still needs an interpreter for Italian is not to be trusted. With that admission when I asked him, he lost all credibility as far as I was concerned.
Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature?! (Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature, then goes on to get a doctorate in Early Childhood Ed.? Kind of a stretch, don't you think?) Also he was wearing four rings, none of which were wedding rings, and Wendy thought his shirt was tucked in weird. Nancy and I agreed.
No, I despise meetings (especially meetings disguised as "trainings" - call a spade a spade, people!) and I'm afraid I got up at 6:30 a.m. today only to be bored into a stupor for the better part of the day. TGI(my)F.
Song o' the Day: "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace. Because I thought I wasn't going to.
This year hasn't been as bad as I've come to expect, and I'm not sure whether to credit living in a house with heat for the first winter of the last 8 or so years, or the fact that this winter has so far been extremely mild aside from a cold snap shortly before Christmas. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, my recurring thought is, "Surely we didn't get off THAT easily..."
Because this is Oregon, and we've had deceptively mild winters before... you know, the ones where it is rainy and only moderately cold December through February, then it turns around and snows most of March and into early April. And if there's one thing I hate, it's snow. Take one thing I hate extremely (cold) and combine it with another thing I hate extremely (wet rainyness) and you get snow, a.k.a. "the ultimate evil".
And in other hellish events, we had an inservice today. Meetings are probably #1 on my list of things I hate, though snow is a very close #2. And the first speaker of the day was, I hate to say it, rather useless. He had some very good ideas, yes, provided that you're working with wealthy, upper-middle class children from stable, two-parent families (in the case of his center, most of the children were the children of university faculty). Unfortunately, catering to low-income, high-risk families is kind of what we do and a lot of what he was talking about just really isn't workable in our program, so why was this guy speaking anyway? Much less going on about it for 3 hours. On the plus side, he had some lovely books in Italian that I was reading during the 15 minute break in his 3 hours of drivel. I might look up some of the books later... or I might not. But really, a guy who got his master's degree in French Literature but speaks Italian better than French and still needs an interpreter for Italian is not to be trusted. With that admission when I asked him, he lost all credibility as far as I was concerned.
Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature?! (Also, who gets a master's degree in French Literature, then goes on to get a doctorate in Early Childhood Ed.? Kind of a stretch, don't you think?) Also he was wearing four rings, none of which were wedding rings, and Wendy thought his shirt was tucked in weird. Nancy and I agreed.
No, I despise meetings (especially meetings disguised as "trainings" - call a spade a spade, people!) and I'm afraid I got up at 6:30 a.m. today only to be bored into a stupor for the better part of the day. TGI(my)F.
Song o' the Day: "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace. Because I thought I wasn't going to.
February 16, 2010
It's one of those days...
... in which I entertain wild fantasies about a job that does not in any way involve children.
I don't like children today.
Back in the days of the ELL department at MES, Vickie and I used to go out for a venting session in the parking lot after work. It was nice because we could talk about it and be done with it and for me at least it was a very effective method of leaving work at work, and then going home and thinking about other stuff. And we would always start these sessions with the question, "So, do you like children today?"
I most emphatically do not like children today, thanks for asking. Today was one of those days that makes me question why the heck I work in education. At least 14 of the children I adore on an individual basis, but put all 18 of them together and I don't like children. This is why I could never be a classroom teacher in a regular school. Being in a room with the same 30 children for a year trying to make them learn stuff that by and large they don't care about would make me homicidal, suicidal, or both.
And even on days like today, I still know why God put me where I'm at. Just since September, in the course of working with these kids and trying to help them vocalize their turbulent preschooler emotions (vocalize rather than haul off and smack someone) I myself have learned a lot about coping with my own emotions. I tend to be very reserved emotionally - someone very close to me told me shortly after my husband left me that I did not have the "luxury" of crying because it made me useless, and it left a lasting impression on me - and I tend to ignore my own emotions and shove them out of the way rather than processing them and dealing with them, and it isn't healthy. In the process of helping them recognize and label their feelings, I've learned to recognize and label my own. While teaching them that their emotions are okay and valid, I've learned that my own are okay and valid as well and I'm even beginning to recognize my breaking point before I reach it, which is a huge step for me. Just today (and Nancy probably didn't realize how significant this was), the kids were being awful, my stress levels were rapidly increasing, and it was getting harder and harder to not scream at the children, and finally I told Nancy, "I'm going to step outside for a few minutes before I snap." I went and sat on the front steps away from the kids in the sun for a few minutes, took some deep breaths, and I went back inside a few minutes later when I felt better. Like I said, Nancy probably didn't think a whole lot of it but for me that's a pretty big thing to recognize, vocalize and then deal with my own emotions.
I told Nancy when I met her that I'm pretty much just an overgrown four year old. But it seems maybe I'm progressing slightly.
So even though I know why I'm in the place I'm in now, there's still the question of "what next?" I don't see me working in my current capacity forever... especially not at only 22 hours a week. I was just telling Nancy today I thought it would be nice to at some point have one job that paid me enough that I didn't need to have three jobs. I don't know where I go from here, but it is abundantly clear to me that God has the plan and he knows what he's doing... I'm just along for the ride.
Song o' the Day: "Check My Brain" by Alice in Chains. Awesome song. Go look it up.
I don't like children today.
Back in the days of the ELL department at MES, Vickie and I used to go out for a venting session in the parking lot after work. It was nice because we could talk about it and be done with it and for me at least it was a very effective method of leaving work at work, and then going home and thinking about other stuff. And we would always start these sessions with the question, "So, do you like children today?"
I most emphatically do not like children today, thanks for asking. Today was one of those days that makes me question why the heck I work in education. At least 14 of the children I adore on an individual basis, but put all 18 of them together and I don't like children. This is why I could never be a classroom teacher in a regular school. Being in a room with the same 30 children for a year trying to make them learn stuff that by and large they don't care about would make me homicidal, suicidal, or both.
And even on days like today, I still know why God put me where I'm at. Just since September, in the course of working with these kids and trying to help them vocalize their turbulent preschooler emotions (vocalize rather than haul off and smack someone) I myself have learned a lot about coping with my own emotions. I tend to be very reserved emotionally - someone very close to me told me shortly after my husband left me that I did not have the "luxury" of crying because it made me useless, and it left a lasting impression on me - and I tend to ignore my own emotions and shove them out of the way rather than processing them and dealing with them, and it isn't healthy. In the process of helping them recognize and label their feelings, I've learned to recognize and label my own. While teaching them that their emotions are okay and valid, I've learned that my own are okay and valid as well and I'm even beginning to recognize my breaking point before I reach it, which is a huge step for me. Just today (and Nancy probably didn't realize how significant this was), the kids were being awful, my stress levels were rapidly increasing, and it was getting harder and harder to not scream at the children, and finally I told Nancy, "I'm going to step outside for a few minutes before I snap." I went and sat on the front steps away from the kids in the sun for a few minutes, took some deep breaths, and I went back inside a few minutes later when I felt better. Like I said, Nancy probably didn't think a whole lot of it but for me that's a pretty big thing to recognize, vocalize and then deal with my own emotions.
I told Nancy when I met her that I'm pretty much just an overgrown four year old. But it seems maybe I'm progressing slightly.
So even though I know why I'm in the place I'm in now, there's still the question of "what next?" I don't see me working in my current capacity forever... especially not at only 22 hours a week. I was just telling Nancy today I thought it would be nice to at some point have one job that paid me enough that I didn't need to have three jobs. I don't know where I go from here, but it is abundantly clear to me that God has the plan and he knows what he's doing... I'm just along for the ride.
Song o' the Day: "Check My Brain" by Alice in Chains. Awesome song. Go look it up.
February 14, 2010
Y'know what's depressing?
Valentine's Day is depressing.
Reading Craigslist personal ads is depressing. A whole, polluted sea teeming with retarded sealife. Some of them seem like decent enough guys, aside from the fact that they're dumber than a box of radishes (this is, for me, a deal-breaker). The majority, however, are arrogant jerks going on about what a "hot commodity" they are and how they're a "limited time offer". If that's really the case, why do you need to post on CL? Surely if you're that fantastic of a catch, you could just stand out on a busy street corner and the girls would be all over you. (Though I suppose that's only legal in certain parts of Nevada.) Normally I wouldn't bother depressing myself by reading ads on Craigslist, but I figure on Valentine's Day I'm depressed enough already and it can't very well get much worse.
I think next year maybe I'll just try drinking. I've never been properly drunk before, and Valentine's Day seems like the perfect time...
Next year I may have to swear off social networking entirely for the month of February. So it's the 4 zillionth V-Day you've spent with *insert name here*... fabulous. Why don't you go spend time with that person rather than posting about it on Facebook? Because let me tell you, if I could only get Wong over on this continent, I wouldn't be sitting around posting on Facebook about it.
Come to think of it, if I could get Wong over on this continent, I wouldn't have to get depressed enough to browse Craigslist.
Why is the rum gone?
Song o' the Day: "Dear Agony" by Breaking Benjamin. (lyrics below)
I have nothing left to give
I have found the perfect end
You remain to make it hurt
Disappear into the dirt
Carry me to heaven's arms
Light the way and let me go
Take the time to take my breath
I will end where I began
And I'll find the enemy within
' Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony...
Suddenly the lights go out
Let forever drag me down
I will fight for one last breath
I will fight until the end
And I'll find the enemy within
'Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's gotta be?
Don't bury me, faceless enemy
I'm so sorry... is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony
Leave me alone
God let me go
I'm blue and cold
Black sky will burn
Love tore me down
Hate lift me up
Just turn around
There's nothing left
Somewhere far beyond this world...
I feel nothing anymore
Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's gotta be?
Don't bury me, faceless enemy
I'm so sorry... is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony
I feel nothing anymore
Reading Craigslist personal ads is depressing. A whole, polluted sea teeming with retarded sealife. Some of them seem like decent enough guys, aside from the fact that they're dumber than a box of radishes (this is, for me, a deal-breaker). The majority, however, are arrogant jerks going on about what a "hot commodity" they are and how they're a "limited time offer". If that's really the case, why do you need to post on CL? Surely if you're that fantastic of a catch, you could just stand out on a busy street corner and the girls would be all over you. (Though I suppose that's only legal in certain parts of Nevada.) Normally I wouldn't bother depressing myself by reading ads on Craigslist, but I figure on Valentine's Day I'm depressed enough already and it can't very well get much worse.
I think next year maybe I'll just try drinking. I've never been properly drunk before, and Valentine's Day seems like the perfect time...
Next year I may have to swear off social networking entirely for the month of February. So it's the 4 zillionth V-Day you've spent with *insert name here*... fabulous. Why don't you go spend time with that person rather than posting about it on Facebook? Because let me tell you, if I could only get Wong over on this continent, I wouldn't be sitting around posting on Facebook about it.
Come to think of it, if I could get Wong over on this continent, I wouldn't have to get depressed enough to browse Craigslist.
Why is the rum gone?
Song o' the Day: "Dear Agony" by Breaking Benjamin. (lyrics below)
I have nothing left to give
I have found the perfect end
You remain to make it hurt
Disappear into the dirt
Carry me to heaven's arms
Light the way and let me go
Take the time to take my breath
I will end where I began
And I'll find the enemy within
' Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony...
Suddenly the lights go out
Let forever drag me down
I will fight for one last breath
I will fight until the end
And I'll find the enemy within
'Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's gotta be?
Don't bury me, faceless enemy
I'm so sorry... is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony
Leave me alone
God let me go
I'm blue and cold
Black sky will burn
Love tore me down
Hate lift me up
Just turn around
There's nothing left
Somewhere far beyond this world...
I feel nothing anymore
Dear agony, just let go of me
Suffer slowly, is this the way it's gotta be?
Don't bury me, faceless enemy
I'm so sorry... is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony
I feel nothing anymore
February 12, 2010
Be my anti-Valentine...
If you're in a happy, functional romantic relationship or you just happen to like the upcoming-offensive-holiday-which-shall-not-be-named, you may want to skip reading this blog. You can just scroll down to the bit where there's a big long line of asterisks (*), because that part will be more interesting to you and might not burst your happy bubble.
I'll wait for you to leave.
Still waiting...
Some poetry while we wait....
I don't need your flowers
They'll just go to waste
I don't want your candy
'Cause I don't like the taste
Okay, now that the undesirables have cleared out, the rest of us are going to have a little talk about this holiday, here. First, the history of it is pretty shaky. There were not one, but in fact two "saint Valentines", both of whom according to Catholic tradition were martyred and coincidentally are buried on the same street in Italy. One of them happens to have been buried on February 14th... how romantic. Anything you may have heard about one of them tossing love letters out of his cell window or anything like that is at best unsubstantiated legend and at worst complete fiction. There's nothing to back that up. And there was, in fact, a third Valentine who also got killed, but he died in Africa and nothing else is known about him really. It must have been a popular name back in the day.
So the history of it is pretty iffy anyway, and then you see what we've done with it... it's gone the way of Christmas - pure commercialization. It was a nice idea to start with, I suppose, but I know many people - men in particular - who dread the day because they know if they don't find just the right gift for their wife/girlfriend, it's gonna be hell. I was more impressed last year by one of my few female friends who on V-day posted on her longtime boyfriend's MySpace page, "F*** Valentine's Day... I love you all year!" That was really the best thing I've ever seen, and I'm about to explain to you why.
I'm stealing a bit from a Foamy rant here, but what V-day boils down to in these times is basically legalized prostitution. (Among non-married couples, naturally.) A guy who is pretty much a jerk the other 364 days of the year will buy girlfriend a gift on this one day and be nice, with the expectation that she will put out on that day. "Here's some chocolate... sleep with me." "Here's some flowers... sleep with me." And even presuming that the guy isn't a jerk the other 364 days of the year, why do we need one day in particular in which we are to express our love? Shouldn't we be doing it all year? If we reserve it for just one day, basically we're doing what we did to Christmas. (Celebrating Jesus only on December 25th rather than all year as was intended, and by "we" I mean society collectively.)
And yes, I am single and slightly bitter about that. But even when I have been in relationships on said holiday in the past, I have been pretty content to let the day slide under my radar (in so much as you can when all the world is red and pink and swarming with winged naked babies and all your friends have changed their Facebook statuses to pictures of them and their significant other - usually a wedding pic, but sometimes just a cutesy couple pic - proudly proclaiming "This is the ___th Valentine's day that ______ and I have celebrated together!"). If I love someone, I'm going to do it every day. I don't need a special holiday for it.
And if you needed further proof that this is a purely commercial holiday, Kmart already has moved the V-day crap aside so they can stock the shelves with Easter stuff.
*******************************
On to other topics now, I have recently become enamored of a new band - Halestorm. Some of you may have heard of them but been put off by their current single which is getting way too much airplay on KUFO and is sort of obnoxious and repetitive.... a little ditty called "I Get Off", which may in fact just plain be too racy for some.
If you go digging back in their archives a little (and there's not very far to dig, since their album just came out in late 2009) you can find a much better song that I've had stuck in my head for several days now called "It's Not You." Other fabulous tracks from them are "Better Sorry than Safe" and "Innocence".
Song o' the Day will obviously be "It's Not You" by Halestorm, but just for something different I'm going to put the lyrics down here so you can read how fantastically catty it is, and then go listen to it because it sounds even better.
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you
Read my finger, whatcha gonna do?
See these lips? They're all done talkin' to you
I don't mean to bruise your ego
But I've had you nailed down for so long
And I don't see your name on my tattoo
Hope you understand
It's been a long time coming
It's for the best
No offense
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you!
I know who you think you are
Sorry I've turned you on but I'm kissing you off
Your lines and whiskey and cigarettes
They're not enough to make me forget
I've got someone who has raised the bar
I've heard it all before
Stop spinning your wheels
I'll show you the door
No hard feelings
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you!
You've probably never been shot down before
I'll try and make it easier...
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you!
It's not you!
And as if that wasn't cool enough, here's a little poem I committed to memory years ago. I forget where I heard it, so my apologies to whoever I may have stolen it from.
I hold your hand in mine, dear
I press it to my lips
I take a healthy bite from
Your dainty fingertips
My joy would be complete, dear
If only you were here
But I still keep your hand
As a precious souvenir
The night you died, I cut it off
I really don't know why
For now each time I kiss it
I get bloodstains on my tie
I'm sorry now I killed you
I really don't know why
And 'til they come to get me
I shall hold your hand in mine
I'll wait for you to leave.
Still waiting...
Some poetry while we wait....
I don't need your flowers
They'll just go to waste
I don't want your candy
'Cause I don't like the taste
Okay, now that the undesirables have cleared out, the rest of us are going to have a little talk about this holiday, here. First, the history of it is pretty shaky. There were not one, but in fact two "saint Valentines", both of whom according to Catholic tradition were martyred and coincidentally are buried on the same street in Italy. One of them happens to have been buried on February 14th... how romantic. Anything you may have heard about one of them tossing love letters out of his cell window or anything like that is at best unsubstantiated legend and at worst complete fiction. There's nothing to back that up. And there was, in fact, a third Valentine who also got killed, but he died in Africa and nothing else is known about him really. It must have been a popular name back in the day.
So the history of it is pretty iffy anyway, and then you see what we've done with it... it's gone the way of Christmas - pure commercialization. It was a nice idea to start with, I suppose, but I know many people - men in particular - who dread the day because they know if they don't find just the right gift for their wife/girlfriend, it's gonna be hell. I was more impressed last year by one of my few female friends who on V-day posted on her longtime boyfriend's MySpace page, "F*** Valentine's Day... I love you all year!" That was really the best thing I've ever seen, and I'm about to explain to you why.
I'm stealing a bit from a Foamy rant here, but what V-day boils down to in these times is basically legalized prostitution. (Among non-married couples, naturally.) A guy who is pretty much a jerk the other 364 days of the year will buy girlfriend a gift on this one day and be nice, with the expectation that she will put out on that day. "Here's some chocolate... sleep with me." "Here's some flowers... sleep with me." And even presuming that the guy isn't a jerk the other 364 days of the year, why do we need one day in particular in which we are to express our love? Shouldn't we be doing it all year? If we reserve it for just one day, basically we're doing what we did to Christmas. (Celebrating Jesus only on December 25th rather than all year as was intended, and by "we" I mean society collectively.)
And yes, I am single and slightly bitter about that. But even when I have been in relationships on said holiday in the past, I have been pretty content to let the day slide under my radar (in so much as you can when all the world is red and pink and swarming with winged naked babies and all your friends have changed their Facebook statuses to pictures of them and their significant other - usually a wedding pic, but sometimes just a cutesy couple pic - proudly proclaiming "This is the ___th Valentine's day that ______ and I have celebrated together!"). If I love someone, I'm going to do it every day. I don't need a special holiday for it.
And if you needed further proof that this is a purely commercial holiday, Kmart already has moved the V-day crap aside so they can stock the shelves with Easter stuff.
*******************************
On to other topics now, I have recently become enamored of a new band - Halestorm. Some of you may have heard of them but been put off by their current single which is getting way too much airplay on KUFO and is sort of obnoxious and repetitive.... a little ditty called "I Get Off", which may in fact just plain be too racy for some.
If you go digging back in their archives a little (and there's not very far to dig, since their album just came out in late 2009) you can find a much better song that I've had stuck in my head for several days now called "It's Not You." Other fabulous tracks from them are "Better Sorry than Safe" and "Innocence".
Song o' the Day will obviously be "It's Not You" by Halestorm, but just for something different I'm going to put the lyrics down here so you can read how fantastically catty it is, and then go listen to it because it sounds even better.
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you
Read my finger, whatcha gonna do?
See these lips? They're all done talkin' to you
I don't mean to bruise your ego
But I've had you nailed down for so long
And I don't see your name on my tattoo
Hope you understand
It's been a long time coming
It's for the best
No offense
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you!
I know who you think you are
Sorry I've turned you on but I'm kissing you off
Your lines and whiskey and cigarettes
They're not enough to make me forget
I've got someone who has raised the bar
I've heard it all before
Stop spinning your wheels
I'll show you the door
No hard feelings
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you!
You've probably never been shot down before
I'll try and make it easier...
I'm in love with somebody
Found someone who completes me
I'm in love with somebody, oh yeah
And it's not you!
It's not you!
And as if that wasn't cool enough, here's a little poem I committed to memory years ago. I forget where I heard it, so my apologies to whoever I may have stolen it from.
I hold your hand in mine, dear
I press it to my lips
I take a healthy bite from
Your dainty fingertips
My joy would be complete, dear
If only you were here
But I still keep your hand
As a precious souvenir
The night you died, I cut it off
I really don't know why
For now each time I kiss it
I get bloodstains on my tie
I'm sorry now I killed you
I really don't know why
And 'til they come to get me
I shall hold your hand in mine
February 9, 2010
Forecast: February blahs fading into spring freakout...
Generally March is, for me at least, the interminable month of rainy, soggy longness. So I guess it's fittingly ironic and well in accordance with my life that this year, it seems February has taken over as the interminable month of rainy, soggy longness - and February only has 28 days.
Don't know what it is lately, but my hibernation drive is whining at me a lot for not staying in bed and, well, hibernating.
In general I still like the people I work with, but the interminable month of rainy, soggy longness seems to be having adverse effects on the children... so far this week at work has been a small, soggy slice of hell. I don't know if it's just early spring freakout or what. The daffodils behind the center have certainly been confused by this unusually mild winter we're having (not that I'm complaining about that)... maybe the kids' little biological clocks have been confused also.
Spring freakout, for those of you who don't work in education, generally happens right around spring break. It's why spring break was invented... so the kids could go cause havok somewhere else for a week. This probably used to work, but nowadays when kids are home from school Mom plunks them down in front of a TV with a DVD and tells them to shut up, thus burning off exactly no excess energy and coming back to school even worse than they started. From spring break on, teachers count the days until summer vacation, because the kids just get crazier. (Prime teachable time is considered to be that space in between New Year's and spring break... no major holidays to interfere with things, and hopefully the spring freakout doesn't set in too early.)
March had just better not last as long as February seems to be lasting... I'm rather looking forward to the latter part of March, and I'd hate to see the whole first part drag.
Song o' the Day: "It's Not You" by Halestorm.
Don't know what it is lately, but my hibernation drive is whining at me a lot for not staying in bed and, well, hibernating.
In general I still like the people I work with, but the interminable month of rainy, soggy longness seems to be having adverse effects on the children... so far this week at work has been a small, soggy slice of hell. I don't know if it's just early spring freakout or what. The daffodils behind the center have certainly been confused by this unusually mild winter we're having (not that I'm complaining about that)... maybe the kids' little biological clocks have been confused also.
Spring freakout, for those of you who don't work in education, generally happens right around spring break. It's why spring break was invented... so the kids could go cause havok somewhere else for a week. This probably used to work, but nowadays when kids are home from school Mom plunks them down in front of a TV with a DVD and tells them to shut up, thus burning off exactly no excess energy and coming back to school even worse than they started. From spring break on, teachers count the days until summer vacation, because the kids just get crazier. (Prime teachable time is considered to be that space in between New Year's and spring break... no major holidays to interfere with things, and hopefully the spring freakout doesn't set in too early.)
March had just better not last as long as February seems to be lasting... I'm rather looking forward to the latter part of March, and I'd hate to see the whole first part drag.
Song o' the Day: "It's Not You" by Halestorm.
February 6, 2010
DDR, how I've missed thee....
I did two things yesterday. The first was to dye my hair fire engine red, but most of you probably are used to me doing that sort of thing and did not just bat any eyelashes. The second thing I did, however, was to buy DDR (Dance Dance Revolution, for you uneducated types) for the Wii.
This second thing could have long-ranging consequences.
DDR and I have a long history together. Back in the days of my first (and so far only) marriage my then-husband and I purchased the Disney version of the game for Playstation - the original Playstation... 2 hadn't been invented yet. I don't remember why we did it, but I remember getting hooked pretty quickly. It was my first brush with the genre of rhythm gaming that would later spawn Guitar Hero/Rock Band. Also, and perhaps more importantly, it's one heck of a workout. Back in those far-flung days of, oh, 2003 or so, the Spineless Worm and I would have DDR competitions. I had actually fashioned an elaborate scoresheet, we would both do every song on the game and record our scores, and the winner got bragging rights. It was fantastic.... we both usually wound up sweaty and gasping (and in his case, partially dressed), his then-wife would laugh at us a lot because she was too prissy to engage in that sort of thing, and we were probably in much better shape then than we are now.
Then my brother borrowed my Playstation. And failed to give it back. Ever.
I sort of forgot about the game. Forgetting it was a lot easier with the advent of Guitar Hero and Rock Band to satisfy my rhythm gaming needs. Those games, however, are mostly finger work (arm and right leg work if you're playing drums) and my poor left leg was getting neglected. Wii Fit has helped somewhat with that, but I still suck at any yoga poses that involve balancing on my left leg.
Fast forward to yesterday, February 5th, 2010. I was browsing Wal-Mart just for kicks because it was my day off and my son was at school and I could, and I just happened to stumble across DDR for Wii. No cutesy Disney songs this time... this version has Lady Gaga and Black-Eyed Peas and even Weezer. Still horribly addictive, however. I put in mucho tiempo yesterday, though I'm not sure how much, got mostly E's and D's (DDR has no F, it has E) and sorta felt like I was gonna have a heart attack. At that point I realized how little cardio I actually do anymore... lots of balance/strength stuff, but virtually zero cardio. :( Today was much better, however. I did about an hour, did not feel like I was going to die, and got lots of C's and B's, a couple of A's, and even one AA. I had a little conversation with the Spineless Worm about this earlier and mentioned the fact that it has been about 7 years since I played the game. He said he last played at an arcade less than a year ago, and he plays anytime he gets the chance. So probably we are not ready for another elaborate competition just yet (at least I'm not), but I'm strangely glad to have the game back.
DDR and I need to not break up again. 7 years of separation is too long. And if Quinn tries to steal my Wii, I will kill him. :)
Song o' the Day: "Just Dance" by Lady Gaga (because I've played it on DDR so many times today that it's stuck in my head)
This second thing could have long-ranging consequences.
DDR and I have a long history together. Back in the days of my first (and so far only) marriage my then-husband and I purchased the Disney version of the game for Playstation - the original Playstation... 2 hadn't been invented yet. I don't remember why we did it, but I remember getting hooked pretty quickly. It was my first brush with the genre of rhythm gaming that would later spawn Guitar Hero/Rock Band. Also, and perhaps more importantly, it's one heck of a workout. Back in those far-flung days of, oh, 2003 or so, the Spineless Worm and I would have DDR competitions. I had actually fashioned an elaborate scoresheet, we would both do every song on the game and record our scores, and the winner got bragging rights. It was fantastic.... we both usually wound up sweaty and gasping (and in his case, partially dressed), his then-wife would laugh at us a lot because she was too prissy to engage in that sort of thing, and we were probably in much better shape then than we are now.
Then my brother borrowed my Playstation. And failed to give it back. Ever.
I sort of forgot about the game. Forgetting it was a lot easier with the advent of Guitar Hero and Rock Band to satisfy my rhythm gaming needs. Those games, however, are mostly finger work (arm and right leg work if you're playing drums) and my poor left leg was getting neglected. Wii Fit has helped somewhat with that, but I still suck at any yoga poses that involve balancing on my left leg.
Fast forward to yesterday, February 5th, 2010. I was browsing Wal-Mart just for kicks because it was my day off and my son was at school and I could, and I just happened to stumble across DDR for Wii. No cutesy Disney songs this time... this version has Lady Gaga and Black-Eyed Peas and even Weezer. Still horribly addictive, however. I put in mucho tiempo yesterday, though I'm not sure how much, got mostly E's and D's (DDR has no F, it has E) and sorta felt like I was gonna have a heart attack. At that point I realized how little cardio I actually do anymore... lots of balance/strength stuff, but virtually zero cardio. :( Today was much better, however. I did about an hour, did not feel like I was going to die, and got lots of C's and B's, a couple of A's, and even one AA. I had a little conversation with the Spineless Worm about this earlier and mentioned the fact that it has been about 7 years since I played the game. He said he last played at an arcade less than a year ago, and he plays anytime he gets the chance. So probably we are not ready for another elaborate competition just yet (at least I'm not), but I'm strangely glad to have the game back.
DDR and I need to not break up again. 7 years of separation is too long. And if Quinn tries to steal my Wii, I will kill him. :)
Song o' the Day: "Just Dance" by Lady Gaga (because I've played it on DDR so many times today that it's stuck in my head)
January 18, 2010
Faith by living...
No, I didn't just get the song lyrics backwards.
But for the last several days, I've had the beginnings of a serious thought nagging at the back of my mind. I don't like that... it makes me feel more intellectual than I am comfortable with thinking of myself as. So I was thinking I might start writing about it here and hopefully it will either become a more coherent thought or go away and leave me alone.
Over the last week or so, I've been thinking a lot about fath... specifically faith in God. I've heard a lot of people discussing how much faith they do or don't have, faith they got from their parents, faith they found for themselves later in life, increasing faith, diminishing faith... all over the spectrum.
Inherited faith concerns me. Yes, I know a lot of people say they learned their faith from their parents, and I guess it's great if you can do it that way. But at some point it has to become your own faith and not your parents' faith, or it won't stay with you. I know in my own personal case what I had up until I was about 25 was "my parents' faith", and right around February of '08 it just wasn't enough anymore and for a couple of months I had "no faith". That caused me to have to ask myself a lot of difficult questions... what did I believe in? I know the song is about "living by faith", but that only works if you have faith to begin with. After a lot of soul-searching, reading and experimentation with a couple of other things I came to the conclusion that the faith handed to me by my parents was the right one after all, but I just had to make it mine somehow, not theirs.
My faith may not look the same as your faith or even my parents' faith, but I don't think it's any less correct. Some of you may remember back in the days of my old MySpace blog I had a little mind-dump one day about my idea of God. For those of you who missed it, I don't think of God as the bearded, gray-haired, grandfatherly figure that you always see him portrayed as when people bother to try to draw him. I don't see God as that stern, unibrowed figure who peers down at us from the heavens shaking his finger at us and saying, "Don't you dare do that!"
Nope... my vision of God is a bit different. I see God more as kind of a middle-aged suburban dad (usually I picture him in a t-shirt, jeans and sunglasses), standing out in the backyard watching his kids play and invariably get into trouble and shaking his head and saying with infinite love and patience, "What on earth am I going to do with you kids? Didn't I already warn you that was going to hurt if you tried it?" But God, in his infinite wisdom, realizes that we learn better from making our own mistakes and thus has given us the freedom to make them rather than just chaining us to the wall so that we behave ourselves. (Though I'm sure God, like most parents, occasionally wishes tying the kids to a chair with duct tape were an option.)
But once I had established that I still believed there was a God and he had a certain way he preferred things done, there was the challenge of doing it. At that point, I was at one of the lower lows (though not the lowest low) of my adult life... I had just gotten divorced, I was living in a falling-apart house with no heat, I had no money, and those were just the obvious issues. So I decided to try an experiment... I picked a minor problem in my life and said, "Okay God... I'm going to do as much as I can to take care of this problem, and I'm going to give the rest of it to you to handle." And in my mind, God said okay. And nobody was more shocked than me when things started changing. So I found another larger problem and said, "Same deal, God... can you handle this one?" I was pretty sure he said he thought it would be cake, and of course he would think that, being God and all. But sure enough, that problem started getting better too.
Over the nearly two years since then, I have been acquiring more faith by living... not living by faith so much. Faith by living. Faith by seeing what God can do with my broken life when I decide to let go and entrust him with the pieces. Faith by seeing my life go from being pretty much a trainwreck two years ago to the point now where I write blog entries like the one previous to this one (see: "Can't complain"). And my faith is still far from perfect, I assure you... I am stubborn and there are still some things I don't want to let go of. My faith is probably in its toddler stages, if it were a human child. I can walk, even run, but I still fall down pretty often, and sometimes I insist that things are MINE! and I frequently get distracted by shiny/colorful objects. God still loves me, though, and when I do something dumb while out playing in the yard with the other kids and get hurt, he reminds me that he warned me about that and he hopes I've learned my lesson. Sometimes I have and sometimes I haven't, but he doesn't love me any less.
I guess I'm still not sure what my original point was, other than don't be afraid to find your own faith. That doesn't mean I won't try to teach my faith to my son, but I still hope that someday he will test it and make it his own rather than just accepting what I give him without question. And with that thought, I leave you with a little picture I threw together just in case anyone was curious....
Song o' the Day: "Almost Easy" by Avenged Sevenfold.
But for the last several days, I've had the beginnings of a serious thought nagging at the back of my mind. I don't like that... it makes me feel more intellectual than I am comfortable with thinking of myself as. So I was thinking I might start writing about it here and hopefully it will either become a more coherent thought or go away and leave me alone.
Over the last week or so, I've been thinking a lot about fath... specifically faith in God. I've heard a lot of people discussing how much faith they do or don't have, faith they got from their parents, faith they found for themselves later in life, increasing faith, diminishing faith... all over the spectrum.
Inherited faith concerns me. Yes, I know a lot of people say they learned their faith from their parents, and I guess it's great if you can do it that way. But at some point it has to become your own faith and not your parents' faith, or it won't stay with you. I know in my own personal case what I had up until I was about 25 was "my parents' faith", and right around February of '08 it just wasn't enough anymore and for a couple of months I had "no faith". That caused me to have to ask myself a lot of difficult questions... what did I believe in? I know the song is about "living by faith", but that only works if you have faith to begin with. After a lot of soul-searching, reading and experimentation with a couple of other things I came to the conclusion that the faith handed to me by my parents was the right one after all, but I just had to make it mine somehow, not theirs.
My faith may not look the same as your faith or even my parents' faith, but I don't think it's any less correct. Some of you may remember back in the days of my old MySpace blog I had a little mind-dump one day about my idea of God. For those of you who missed it, I don't think of God as the bearded, gray-haired, grandfatherly figure that you always see him portrayed as when people bother to try to draw him. I don't see God as that stern, unibrowed figure who peers down at us from the heavens shaking his finger at us and saying, "Don't you dare do that!"
Nope... my vision of God is a bit different. I see God more as kind of a middle-aged suburban dad (usually I picture him in a t-shirt, jeans and sunglasses), standing out in the backyard watching his kids play and invariably get into trouble and shaking his head and saying with infinite love and patience, "What on earth am I going to do with you kids? Didn't I already warn you that was going to hurt if you tried it?" But God, in his infinite wisdom, realizes that we learn better from making our own mistakes and thus has given us the freedom to make them rather than just chaining us to the wall so that we behave ourselves. (Though I'm sure God, like most parents, occasionally wishes tying the kids to a chair with duct tape were an option.)
But once I had established that I still believed there was a God and he had a certain way he preferred things done, there was the challenge of doing it. At that point, I was at one of the lower lows (though not the lowest low) of my adult life... I had just gotten divorced, I was living in a falling-apart house with no heat, I had no money, and those were just the obvious issues. So I decided to try an experiment... I picked a minor problem in my life and said, "Okay God... I'm going to do as much as I can to take care of this problem, and I'm going to give the rest of it to you to handle." And in my mind, God said okay. And nobody was more shocked than me when things started changing. So I found another larger problem and said, "Same deal, God... can you handle this one?" I was pretty sure he said he thought it would be cake, and of course he would think that, being God and all. But sure enough, that problem started getting better too.
Over the nearly two years since then, I have been acquiring more faith by living... not living by faith so much. Faith by living. Faith by seeing what God can do with my broken life when I decide to let go and entrust him with the pieces. Faith by seeing my life go from being pretty much a trainwreck two years ago to the point now where I write blog entries like the one previous to this one (see: "Can't complain"). And my faith is still far from perfect, I assure you... I am stubborn and there are still some things I don't want to let go of. My faith is probably in its toddler stages, if it were a human child. I can walk, even run, but I still fall down pretty often, and sometimes I insist that things are MINE! and I frequently get distracted by shiny/colorful objects. God still loves me, though, and when I do something dumb while out playing in the yard with the other kids and get hurt, he reminds me that he warned me about that and he hopes I've learned my lesson. Sometimes I have and sometimes I haven't, but he doesn't love me any less.
I guess I'm still not sure what my original point was, other than don't be afraid to find your own faith. That doesn't mean I won't try to teach my faith to my son, but I still hope that someday he will test it and make it his own rather than just accepting what I give him without question. And with that thought, I leave you with a little picture I threw together just in case anyone was curious....
Song o' the Day: "Almost Easy" by Avenged Sevenfold.
January 16, 2010
Can't complain...
A friend of mine, who for the sake of this blog we shall call "Spineless Worm" (and that probably became immediately evident to about half of you who I'm talking about... the rest of you probably confused him with Emo Steve, who he is not), called me the other day to whine about how he, like 10% of Americans nowadays, can't find a job.
(I'm just going to pull over for a bit and point out that I have called Spineless Worm a spineless worm to his face many times over the years... it's almost like a term of endearment, because that's the sort of relationship we have. If he reads this, he won't be too offended. He also goes by "CRAKA!!!!")
Anyway, moving on, while Spineless Worm was going on about how he couldn't find a job and they were living with his wife's parents because this agency screwed him over and this other couple stabbed him in the back and he severed all contact with them, etc., I realized something.... I really can't complain much about my current circumstances. It's sort of sad, because I think that used to be sort of a hobby of mine.
But let's be real about this here. I have a job. I'm paying my rent. We have food, water, shelter and toys (yes, toys are very important). We even have video games and electric guitars. We have family, good friends, and the means to visit both fairly often. We have a relatively spider-free home. We have music playing devices in every room of the house except for the Chamaco's bedroom. We even have purple chili pepper lights in our bedroom (thanks Mom!).
I searched my mental database and could only come up with two complaints, one in my professional life and the other in my personal life. My professional complaint would be that one of my supervisors (not naming names) tends to hover and meddle a bit more than is strictly necessary, but that's a minor annoyance since I'm not the top of the hierarchy and I don't have to deal directly with that person too often. My personal life complaint is that I'm still single... and that didn't used to be a complaint. I used to enjoy that quite a lot, actually, but the novelty has worn off I guess.
So no, I can't complain too much. And I'll bet if you think about it, you can't complain too much either. Especially if you were to compare yourself with, say, someone living in Haiti right now. If you've got everything you need and even just some of what you want, you're among the wealthiest of the people on this earth. Go forth and count your blessings!
Song o' the Day: "Smoke on the Water" - Metallica. (Yes, I know this is a cover. I just happen to like Metallica's cover better than the original.)
(I'm just going to pull over for a bit and point out that I have called Spineless Worm a spineless worm to his face many times over the years... it's almost like a term of endearment, because that's the sort of relationship we have. If he reads this, he won't be too offended. He also goes by "CRAKA!!!!")
Anyway, moving on, while Spineless Worm was going on about how he couldn't find a job and they were living with his wife's parents because this agency screwed him over and this other couple stabbed him in the back and he severed all contact with them, etc., I realized something.... I really can't complain much about my current circumstances. It's sort of sad, because I think that used to be sort of a hobby of mine.
But let's be real about this here. I have a job. I'm paying my rent. We have food, water, shelter and toys (yes, toys are very important). We even have video games and electric guitars. We have family, good friends, and the means to visit both fairly often. We have a relatively spider-free home. We have music playing devices in every room of the house except for the Chamaco's bedroom. We even have purple chili pepper lights in our bedroom (thanks Mom!).
I searched my mental database and could only come up with two complaints, one in my professional life and the other in my personal life. My professional complaint would be that one of my supervisors (not naming names) tends to hover and meddle a bit more than is strictly necessary, but that's a minor annoyance since I'm not the top of the hierarchy and I don't have to deal directly with that person too often. My personal life complaint is that I'm still single... and that didn't used to be a complaint. I used to enjoy that quite a lot, actually, but the novelty has worn off I guess.
So no, I can't complain too much. And I'll bet if you think about it, you can't complain too much either. Especially if you were to compare yourself with, say, someone living in Haiti right now. If you've got everything you need and even just some of what you want, you're among the wealthiest of the people on this earth. Go forth and count your blessings!
Song o' the Day: "Smoke on the Water" - Metallica. (Yes, I know this is a cover. I just happen to like Metallica's cover better than the original.)
Haircut!
Yesterday (Friday) I went over to the Great Clips in Sandy and let the mom of one of my students do pretty much whatever she wanted to my hair. I had talked to her the day before about what she might like to do, and she said something about "lots of layers" and asked if I would mind losing some length. That was exactly what I wanted to lose, so I just let her play. Here's the end result... I straightened it this morning.
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