For All the Single Ladies (and Men)

Yep. I've been saying this for years.

She says it really well. (And some of the comments are hilarious.)

ETA: Here is the blog post she's responding to. And this is my dear friend's response to that same post, and I think it's BRILLIANT. Girls, you'll cheer. Guys, well, for the most part you won't be offended or anything, but you might end up with a very handy little "Note to self".

Check, Please

The ladies in the school office, like pretty much all friendly older women everywhere, have decided that I am adorable and that I must be paired up with someone immediately. They picked (what surely must be) the only single male teacher at the school, and told my friend they were going to set me up with him. My friend passed the info on to me, informing me as well that he is, in fact, a hottie - she'd date him herself if she weren't married.

Today a couple of students burst into the classroom asking if I'd "seen the text" - evidently, a rumor is a-boundin' that this particular male teacher just became engaged to one of the female teachers, and she's got a ring to back it up.

I had to laugh. And go burrow back in bed, where I will plan my one-way trip to a Tibetan nunnery.

I Think I Figured It Out

In which we shall see: Quite frankly, some whining. It was a tough weekend, after a couple of tough (though fun) weeks. You don't have to read it.

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(Sunday, March 22)

I've been a full-fledged high school teacher for two weeks. Evidently, I'm good at it. My knee-knocked friend wonders why I don't just get certified and stick with it, and the other day a couple of students remarked that it was a good thing I was there, as they (collectively) would have "killed" any other sub. On the whole, I really like all of "my" students. I enjoy teaching the classes, and I love working with the kids individually and in small groups on their competition pieces.

I just figured out why I am so certain teaching high school is NOT for me.

It's not so much the hours, though being up and at the school by 7 a.m. will never cease to be a pain, and staying late and knowing you're not actually being paid for the time does rankle. It's not the grading or the class prep, though those will never hit my list of favorite things to do. And it's not the the few pain-in-the-patootie students, those 2 or 3 who insist on answering back and will simply not shut up...

It's not them, it's me.

Or rather, it's my tendency to be obsessive. This past weekend I have constantly had songs from the new show we're working on running through my head, and they're not particularly fabulous or catchy. I find myself reviewing my mental to-do list over and over and over and over... I dwell and stew on the kids, their problems and their work. I was so happy to finish the last show - not because I wasn't enjoying it, but with the expectation I would finally stop dreaming about it. I did, but now I'm dreaming about the new show and drama club presidency meetings. (Believe me, meetings with a group of teenagers in your bedroom while you're in bed and in your pajamas seems only marginally less embarrassing in your dreams than it prospectively would in real life. Brrrr.) I can't turn it off, and it's driving me out of my mind!

I just want a job I can walk away from - or at least one that I don't want to walk away from. For all the long hours I put in researching and assembling information when I'm dramaturging a show, I haven't yet dreamed about an actor's packet.

(Aside: I think I'd be OK with dreaming about grad school at this point. I want to go more than ever, and with so much else going on I could really use the reminder to get those applications moving...)

I think this is the same tendency that really makes me hate "crushing" on guys. I dislike being loopy and infatuated anyway (particularly as, nearly without exception, it's one-sided) but the really icky part is moving from "mild crush" to "obsessed maniac" (in the comfort of my own home, anyway). It's just so damn uncomfortable. I'd much rather be occupying my thoughts and time with something more productive, but I just can't help it. At least I haven't yet veered into stalker-hood... not since high school, anyway.

And here it comes around - I suppose the bottom line is that I don't want to teach high school because in some ways it feels like I never left. Teaching high school is certainly better than attending it - but it's past time for me to grow up, get a grip, find some balance, and MOVE ON.

And maybe get some therapy for the OCD, you think?

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(REDACTED: drippy, whingey rant, removed since it annoyed even the author. Source: completely ridiculous infatuation. Did I mention I hate that particular state of mind? I'm far too old for this crap. Seriously.)

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(Monday, March 23)

In other news, my friend came back to class today, and it was weird. We actually work really well together, but having her back after running "my" classes for two weeks was strange. She's awesome though, and was very complimentary, so I'll get over it.

Watch out for falling turtles - fo shizzle, you could dislocate a knee, and THAT'S no fun...

Cyd

Bottom Line

All she wants to do is dance.



I'm not kidding.

Note to Self

I had the most... most... indescribeable dream last night... and it was evidently a pretty good cardio workout, as dreams go, since apparently I lost two pounds in the course of the night. I think I need to go back to sleep right away.

Rubber Chickens

So, back in February I started working at a local high school with one of my best friends, Phaid, who is the drama teacher. P, (or "Ati", as the kids call her) is pregnant and due in April, so we planned out a good 2 months for her to train me and move me into teaching the classes and directing the shows, facillitating a smooth transition when she steps out and into maternity leave after Spring Break. Things have been going well - I really like the kids, and when I came in the Productions Class ("the really good ones") were halfway through prepping a one-act play for Region Competition called "The Rules of Comedy".

It's... pretty self-explanatory - the Narrators describe the "rules" that make things funny, with demonstrations by the ensemble, and then the rules are applied to the final, tragic, scene of Shakespeare's Hamlet. There are goofy hats, odd musical cues, all kinds of slapstick, and half a billion props, including curdled milk and cream pies. I ended up becoming the official photographer, and I've got a good 700 pictures on file. Here are just a few:

Good times for all. About a week and a half before the competition we opened the show for the public for three performances - and things got funny. (Not funny "ha ha", although there was that, but more funny "crazy unexpected".) An hour before the last performance, P/Ati was futzing on stage, prepping, and her foot slipped on one of the risers we were using for audience seats. Evidently, pregnancy makes your joints "loose" - that slip totally dislocated her knee. (She described it to me in great detail later, in the ER when she was doped up on morphine.) The show did go on, and the kids did a great job - and Monday morning I came in officially as the sub, a full month earlier than we'd planned. It's been an interesting week, to say the least. My tech class has been great, the Careers class has been like pulling teeth to get the kids to participate (though I think they're warming up - and we're now watching "Thoroughly Modern Millie" in class - it's got lots of business/job references!), I LOVE the Drama 2 class (and they LOVE Improv), and the Productions Class is driving me nuts. Poor Phaid is having an awful time - she can't move very well (though she's finally allowed to drive) and she just can't take sitting around and not doing things. Against the doctor's wishes she came to the Rules of Comedy pick-up rehearsal yesterday (getting ready for the actual competition next week), and will be back Monday afternoon and will attend the Tuesday competition.

We're working on putting the next show together already, too, and that's been scary - I think we've worked out some morale issues (love each other, dagnabit!) and hopefully the choreography won't completely blow my mind... And that's what my last couple of weeks have been like!

Incidentally, the yearbook is giving us a full two-page spread for Rules of Comedy, and EVERY SINGLE PICTURE on those pages was taken by ME. (Except the one above, which I'm IN.) Also, there will be a quote by me printed on one page. I'M MORE POPULAR IN THIS SCHOOL'S YEARBOOK THAN I EVER WAS IN MINE.

The End Arrived (Lighter Than the Start)

In the beginning, there were 11 slightly/somewhat overweight and /or just-needing-to-shape-up family members, and after several slews of emails and financial motivation installed, the family competition was born.


I didn't win. (You can stop reading now if you want, but there are some pretty amazing pictures coming up.) Naturally, just as I wanted to focus on eating right and exercising, life got crazy. Plus, I just hated exercising. By mid-December, though, I cut out chocolate and most sugar, and in January I buckled down (much more regularly, anyway) to running and DVD workouts. The weight started coming off slowly, and as added benefits I developed a tolerance for exercise (i.e., I don't hate it anymore) and my back and hip problems got better/finally healed. Anyway, I ended up losing 24 pounds, and have dropped three more since we ended the official competition. (I'm less than 10 pounds away from the actual weight on my driver's license, and less than 20 from my final goal!)


Things got pretty heated, with speculation flying between two states as to who would win (people were very stingy about sharing any potentially motivating information), so I present to you now the photographic evidence of the progress of the top three Losers:



Before and After -

And the winner....

My sister, Kari! Woooooo! *throws confetti*

Pretty fantastic, eh? It's the same shirt in both pictures, and the jeans are several sizes smaller. She literally worked her butt off - running 5 miles a day, 6 days a week, adding a second workout at night, and cutting out sugar and deserts. (I've also heard a rumor that she only ate grapefruit for lunch and dinner... I haven't talked to her about that, but I do have several grapefruits waiting in my fridge now.)

The folks are wanting to start up another "contest", and incorporate the Wii Fit. (Mom says she wants one for her birthday/Mother's Day. Awesome.) This same sister is going to set up a half-marathon for interested family members when we all go visit for her daughter's baptism in June, so I have that to keep working for. Also, there's this dress I really want to fit into for an event I have in mind...

Good job everybody!

Prithee and Forsooth

I have plans for three separate posts, including: the conclusion of the family weight-loss contest, the passing of a long-time family friend, and the high school play we just closed (which also involves the pregnant drama teacher horrifically dislocating her knee and as a consequence turning the program and all classes and current and future rehearsals over to me a month earlier than expected) but this post is about none of those things. Coming soon!

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INSTEAD -

For all you Regency Romance novel readers (you know who you are) – two Top Ten lists of Things No-one Would Ever Say in a Regency-set Historical Romance: (SENSITIVITY RATING – it’s racy. For Regency, anyway.)

The heroine:

1. Hell with Almack’s. I think I’ll stay home and entertain myself with the footmen.
2. I might as well marry the first man who offers for me. I can always have passionate love affairs afterward.
3. I never really wanted to be a writer/surgeon/spy/scientist/ explorer/archaeologist/herbalist/highwayperson/governess/ publisher/artist/balloonist/acrobat/pirate/opera singer/engineer. It just seemed to make me more attractive to eligible men.
4. Oh, Papa, what a shame you gambled away the family fortune. I’m afraid I can’t think of anything I could possibly do to help out.
5. A devastatingly handsome, notorious, wicked rake? Eeeew.
6. I know it’s our wedding night, but would you mind terribly if I got on with my knitting?
7. I don’t care if that adorable lisping child is the apple of the hero’s eye. If she doesn’t shut up I’ll slap her.
8. Pay no attention to my siblings. They’re only here for the sequels.
9. Would you mind using one of those things made from animal intestines?
10. You don’t have any? Look in my reticule.

The hero:

1. No brandy for me, thank you. It gives me terrible wind.
2. But I always wear a nightshirt and nightcap. Why should it be any different tonight?
3. Butler, remove this strange woman from my bed immediately.
4. All this striding around is giving me groin injuries.
5. No, no. I insist, madam. You take the floor. I’ll be quite comfortable in this huge bed.
6. Send my valet for some Rogaine. I have been indulging in overmuch hair raking.
7. I’m afraid some women have complained it’s rather on the small side.
8. I am Everard Dominic Ashford Alexander Artichoke FitzGrennan, Duke of Hawkraven, known and feared as Satan’s Elbow, but you may address me as… Cuddles.
9. I really don’t want to go to a gambling hell tonight. Couldn’t we just stay home and read up on the bills we’re supposed to vote on tomorrow in the House?
10. Waterloo? Oh, it was quite fun, actually.

-Janet Mullany, The Rules of Gentility

Dance Pictures

I just spent the last hour chatting on Facebook with the guy I was madly in love with in high school. (No, it was not reciprocal.) He's married, has four kids and one on the way, is just as smart and funny (and hair-empowered) as ever, and was just put into the bishopbric (and, incidentally, pinged me - I didn't start the conversation).

Sometimes I really like Facebook.

Other times I really hate it.


Either way, I REALLY need chocolate right about now. (2.5 more days!)