My Mental Health

It's bad. Real bad.
Last night I discussed for over 45 minutes the lives of several?fictional characters in detail with concern and compassion I hold for?few real characters I see every day.
I swear in shock and dismay at the same time every day as I turn the?corner after my lunch break to see a spot that could easily fit two?parallel parked cars holding the same single teal Geo leaving just?enough space for my car on either end of it if my car didn't have any?bumpers forcing me to park a block away since the parking lot is also?full and this poor parallel parking displayed by the Geo is apparantly?an epidemic.
Although my teaching schedule usually runs with military accuracy I?keep picking up my students and dismissing them at random and very?wrong times leading up to today where I dismissed three young students?almost an hour early.
I whined and complained for two weeks that I didn't have any money and?saw everything I needed and couldn't afford and yet I haven't spent a?single dime since I got paid three days ago and suddenly lost all?desire to purchase anything which left me sitting in my basement alone?eating stale tortilla chips and ignoring the "refrigerate after?opening" label on the salsa I opened four days ago and left on my?basement table as I watched old seasons of the Gilmore Girls.
I have spent a great deal cussing out Old Man Winter and his stupid?snow, stupid ice and stupid cold and have even a few times shaken my?fists with rage as I pictured him on a beach drinking Martinis and?laughing with ET and a few of Santa's disgruntled elves as they?watched me scrape ice off my window.
The staggering evidence of my poor mental health leads me to only one?dash of hope. This weekend is a three-day weekend. I need heat, I?need love, I need sanity. I need, I need, I need!

Stupid Rodent!

The dumb thing saw its shadow! Six more weeks of
winter. But, really... what did we expect? Out of
the 110 recorded Punxsutawney Phil appearances he has
seen his shadow 96 times. So, 87% of the time he just
guesses that there'll be six more weeks of winter.
Jerk.

AND! Apparantly the furry freak is a Steeler's fan!

Well, at least the movie's good.

http://www.cnn.com/2006/WEATHER/02/02/groundhog.day.ap/index.html

That Time of the Month

It's that time of the month again. The time right before pay day. It's usually the week before pay day. But this month, I'm a week early. So this time I have two weeks of the purest form of poverty.

My dad sent me an email yesterday to remind me how much money I'd need to conjure up to make rent. It wasn't a small amount. But after I deposited the money from my roommates for last month's utilities and all the money I could scrounge up from my purse... well... I still came up $30 short. Oops.

I sent my dad a reply this afternoon to tell him not to worry. That I had a game plan. So please don't yell at me, offer to give me money and then think of new and inventive ways to hold it over my head. I'd rather pay the overdraft charge, thank you very much.

But then, as American Idol rolled its credits it came to me. Like a light shining down from heaven. I still haven't unpacked my suitcase from Christmas break. And inside that suitcase may or may not be some Christmas/birthday money from Grandma! And you know what? There was! $20 for my birthday + $20 for Christmas = rent!

I love you, Grandma.

I called my dad to tell him the good news. He hadn't gotten my e-mail earlier. "So... wait... you found $40?"
"Ya! My birthday and Christmas money. I'll deposit it tomorrow during my lunch break and my rent check will be covered."
"Oh, good. Wait, so that $40 is just extra?"
"Extra? No. What do you mean by extra?"
"After rent is paid, how much will you have to live off of until pay day?"
"Nothing."

My dad laughed. Really, really hard. I actually hadn't heard him laugh that hard since he made the joke about the doctor removing my eyes. This guy was really enjoying my misery.

"Nothing? Hahaha! You'll have nothing?!" He couldn't get enough! "I'm sorry. It's just the way you said 'nothing' and the idea of you having absolutely nothing. Oh, the way you kids live!"
"Ya, it's a hoot dad. Poverty is funny."

He couldn't stop laughing so I finally told him I had to go and that he was free to call me back when he caught his breath and dried his eyes. When I hung up, I laughed too. He's right. It is kind of funny that I have nothing. I really know how to live a joke.

More Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark

My kids picked a book for me to read to them. It's called "More Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark" and I remember reading the original "Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark" when I was a pre-teen in pansy denial. The stories terrified me and it was the first book I didn't finish.

But I'm 25 now. I'm a big girl. And I would be reading it in a lighted classroom. No biggie. And when I started to read the stories it was hard for me not to laugh. The stories were so lame! I couldn't believe these stories had ever made me feel scared.

What I really couldn't believe, though, was that I had a long night of nightmares that night. All night long vampires and zombies were chasing me. Also, at one point Superman showed up wearing his regular attire excpet it was loose-fitting and sequined. And Lois and I were friends. And Perry died. And Superman was evil and trying to kill me.

Did I mention I had been watching season two of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman?

We're Going to the Super Bowl!

Today Seattle played in the championship game for the first time in 22 years when they lost to Oakland in 1984. But today's game turned out different because they WON! Seattle's going to the Super Bowl for the first time ever! Can you believe it? Can you? In all the Seahawk games I watched growing up (okay there weren't THAT many) they never won a single one. The team grew up while I wasn't looking. They grow up so fast, don't they?

Super Bowl party. My place. Wear green and blue.

Is This Funny? Is It Funny Now?

I went online to take the tbs humor survey as advertised so brilliantly on TV. You know the one. Where the guy runs into a window, the girl falls into a hole and the old guy reading gets hit in the face with a pie. That one. The one that I've seen a million times and still laugh so hard my abs hurt. If you could call them abs. Which you can't. Anyway, long story made longer I found this hillarious little activity. I lauged so hard I cried. Literally. I cried literal tears. And I think I found my abs.

Stoned

I had an experience with a kidney stone before. But it wasn't anything like this! If only I had known that a tiny stone extracted in such a painful and disgusting way could have paid for the hospital bill that resulted from the experience and my student loans! The tiny Shatner stone is worth more than it's weight in gold or diamond. And I had three of those things! $75,000 would have gone a long way...

Text Messaging

I went through some of my old text messages in my phone. Just a few...

"Love you" - Judy
"Blood test normal, waiting on the poop." - Julie
"Darn tootin" - Jay
"wow that sounds awesome. (...not)" - Wayne
"I THINK I HAVE PINKEYE" - Lisa
"This guy is a serious loser." - Julie
"Taking vowels out of words doesn't ALWAYS make them cool." - Jon
"One time i rocked so hard i killed a man!" - Heather
"Grab me some tots" - Julie (when I was driving through Idaho)
"You smell like poo." - Leah
"You are the pizza crust beneath my tomato sauce." - Jon
"Boys smell weird. And they never call when they should. Let's get rid of them all, or keep them. I can never decide." - Heather
"I have no clue maybe the northwest pigeons" - Judy (when I asked her what gang my cousin belonged to)
"I have a belly button." - Caroline
"I miss your crazy ass!" - Leah
"Take a wack at weaser" - Sandy
"I hate you" - Jay

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

I was cleaning up the kitchen. I put the dirty dishes in the sink and started throwing away the rest. I heard my mom gasp.
"Emily! What are you doing?!"
"Cleaning up. I know it looks strange to you but don't be alarmed."
"No, what are you doing with that bottle?"
I looked down at my hands. I was holding an empty plastic Sprite bottle poised above the garbage can.
"I'm throwing away the garbage."
My mom looked at me like I was crazy and did what she always does when she can't figure me out and I'm in trouble. She yelled for my dad.
With horror and fear in her voice she yelled, "Bill! Bill! Our daughter has forgotten how to recycle!"
My dad hollered back, "NO!!!"
He came running in, opened the garbage lid and started pulling things out, "Cans, bottles, napkins... oh, no! A milk carton?!"
I took a shocked step back. What was I doing?? Who have I become?! Years and years of learning recycling songs, chanting, planting trees, enjoying countless hours of recycling videos and puppet shows and now I'm just throwing everything into the same bin?
"I'm... I'm sorry," I stammered in a shocked whisper. "I... um... they don't have recycling bins in Utah like they do here... I guess I just... forgot."
My dad continued his trash can search for anything else that could be recycled, my mom watched with a hand over her mouth and I sulked over to the sink to load the dishwasher.

Like the Rain I Keep Falling For You

It's my last night in Renton. Of all the nights, the last one is the worst because it means goodbyes and transition. I know that tomorrow morning I'll wake up, make a mad dash for my airplane and two hours later I'll be back in Utah and this trip will take an instant backseat as I play with my friends and celebrate the new year.

I'll forget how much I hated the rain and the three hours of "sunlight" and how crazy my mother made me. I'll forget how hard it was to say goodbye and the smell of pine trees. I'll forget. Because my memory is bad. And I'm fickle.

But right now I'm just sad. Because I love it here and I can't imagine going back to dust and cold. I've started thinking seriously about moving back up here, settling down, start making some investments and growing up.

But tomorrow I'll forget.

Home Sick

I'm sick. And I'm at home. And the combination is killing me. I had nightmares last night about how my mom used to behave when I was sick as a kid. And when I woke up, the nightmare just continued on where I left off.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Wednesday night, as it was coming time for everybody to go to bed my mom looked at me and said, "Where are earth are you going to sleep?!"
"Gee, mom. I dunno. I thought that maybe you would have planned on that since I've had the tickets since September."
"Well, I suppose I can clear off the top bunk... but I was using it for storage."
"Sorry for the inconvenience."
"I guess it's alright."
I heard a few clumps as she hurled some stuff off the top bunk into a heap on the floor and then a shout, "Ready!"

Great... I crawled between the pet hair infested old blankets (there were about twelve and muddled up, two sleeping bags, one rolled and one flat, two body pillows and four other pillows) and fell asleep.

The next morning the phone rang. My mom shouted her hellos, even Wayne turned over in the bed below. "What? Who is this? Shelby? She's sleeping! I was told not to wake her up! Okay! Bye!" I heard the whole thing. Obviously. And although I was very excited to see my Shelby I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. But in two seconds my mom's face was peering over the bunk, "Emily! Emily! Shelby called and she wants to play with you! But don't worry. I told her that she couldn't talk to you yet because you wanted to sleep. So instead of waking you up, I told her you'd call her back. See how well I listen? But I wanted to tell you before I forgot."
"Ya... thanks mom. I would have hated it if you had woken me up..."
"No problem!"

Last night, I crawled into the same bed and found a battery (that I had most certainly slept on top of the night before) and a black stocking with white dog paws printed on it filled with doggie treats and toys that I had mistakenly used as a lumpy pillow the night before. As I was getting ready this morning my mom burst through the bathroom door (knocking is a lost luxury) and announced that we weren't doing stockings this year. "Really? I found one in my bed last night."
"Hey! That's for the dogs! What did you do with it?"
"Don't worry... I just put it at the foot of the bed and went to sleep. If I can sleep with all of their hair then I can sleep with their Christmas stocking."
"Okay. Just as long as you didn't throw it off. I had it all in there perfect..."

Why can't humans hibernate?

Quarter of a Century

Today I'm 25. A whole quarter of a century. Which
makes a girl think about things she's never thought
about before. Like what bark on a tree is made of.
And it makes a girl reminisce about what she was doing
when she was only a quarter of a quarter of a century
and how much I've grown.

For example, I am at least a half inch taller than I
was then. And now I like my chocolate with nuts (or
without... really, I've just grown less particular).
I'm not afraid of the haunted book in the Care Bears
Movie (well... not as much) and I can walk to my bed
in the dark without running and crying in fear
(usually). I don't watch the same Disney movie over
and over anymore (since now I own many Disney movies
and watch them on a longer rotation.) And I'm no
longer afraid of my family (probably because I moved a
thousand miles away).

Besides those few exceptions, I'm pretty much the same
girl that eats ice cream for dinner, likes to play
dress-up and has to have a hoodie or blanket to cover
my face if the movie has anything scary in it like
glaring or uncoordinated outfits.

A quarter of a quarter of a century or a quarter of a
century... I'm "Just Em!"

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Christmas Miracle

My principle came into my office today, handed me an envelope and made me initial a list he had.
"Do you know about the (insert random term here)?"
"No."
"Oh. Well... ask somebody about it. Enjoy."
And he left.

I opened the envelope and inside was a US Bank gift card with a large sum of money (by my perspective). I thought maybe it was money for my classroom so I pushed it to the edge of my desk and made a mental note to ask my mentor about it later.

After school, I talked to my lead coordinator. She said the money was mine. Something about getting bonuses for attending workshops and it being government money yadda yadda yadda. I don't know. I couldn't make it out. All that matters is that now I have money where a few hours ago I had none. And I can buy Christmas presents when just a few hours ago I was contemplating if I had enough money for construction paper and glue. Hurray!

A Christmas Miracle.

At Last

Yesterday I ate pumpkin pie.

You have no idea what a big deal this was. I have been craving pumpkin pie since Thanksgiving when it came to that point in the meal when we were supposed to eat it (it was on the shopping list!) and instead got a chocolate frosted brownie. I love chocolate brownies. But it was Thanksgiving. I needed pumpkin pie. Duh.

So I dragged Jay and Lisa from grocery store to grocery store, from restaurant to restaurant trying to find anybody that was open and had some pie. But nobody was open. Because it was Thanksgiving.

The next day I tried again. Surely, there would be plenty of discounted pumpkin pie the day after Thanksgiving. But there wasn't. Not one. So I bought pumpkin pie ice cream. And thought it would satisfy the lust. But it didn't. (Although it was very good.)

Obviously something had to be done. So, on Monday I went to Macey's and bought a small pumpkin pie and some whipped topping (a necessary companion) and brought it home. I planned on eating a large piece that night. But I was hungry and realized that my stomach so far contained only 2 Diet Pepsis and a Handi-Snack that I had found at the bottom of my backpack around 10am. I needed food.

I went to Taco Bell and waited through 5 songs (almost 20 minutes) for a pimply high-schooler to throw 5 ingredients together that would be my "real food dinner." By the time I got it, my stomach had actually turned inside out and had started eating my kidneys and liver so I had to scarf the food down as quickly as possible in order to save my other internal organs.

So I was full. Too full for pie.

TOO FULL FOR PIE!!

I had to wait...

The next day (yesterday in case the time lapse was hard to follow) I ran home during my lunch break, ate a few tortilla chips and then went in for the kill. I ate a large piece of the small pie with a large gallop of whipped topping. And it was good. Very good.

At last.

PRAXIS

Tomorrow morning at 8am (I think) I'll be taking a one or two (maybe
three?) hour test comprising of written and multiple choice questions
(I'm pretty sure) that will determine whether or not I will be a
licensed teacher for the coming school year.

If I don't pass, then the last year and a half will have been for
nought. And I'll just be out the over $15,000.

And yet, I'm not worried. I haven't even begun to study. Mostly
because I'm lazy and have lost the will to go on. Partly because my
professors keep saying it's no big deal.

I should probably at least make sure I know when the test starts...
that would be good.

It's So Extreme!

I have Dance Dance Revolution Extreme, two dance pads and a drive to
win! My memory card got corrupted somehow and I lost all of the
scores, characters and new songs I had gained over the last summer.
So, last Friday I bought a new memory card and started dancing my
heart out! I have put in about eleven hours of dance time on that
thing since then. I only have one character left.

This weekend... it's mine!

Dream Weaver

I had a dream last night that I went to the doctor and she told me that I had a fatal disease and only had a week and a half to live. Ten days.

When I woke up, I realized that I go home soon. In ten days.

Think there's a correlation?

BS Royalty

Class was boring. We had to look at test results and then as a group classify (or give reasons for not classifying) a hypothetical student with a special education classification. I got voted as the "speaker" for our group because they said I said, "Uh... it depends..." in the most intelligent manner.

The teacher said she was impressed.

I sat down and starting reading blogs. Some were pretty funny and sometimes I chorkled out loud. Obviously not paying attention. There were six more groups to sit through... all the same... "Uh... it depends..."

I heard the teacher say, "Uh... what's her name?" Was she talking about me? I looked up. "Emily," they said. "Oh, Emily... what do you think about this?"

I had no idea what they were talking about. "Uh... well... let's see... well... like I said before, the numbers displayed here are all well and good and sure, they give us a good idea of what the child's cognitive ability is and a general idea of the knowledge they've acquired so far... but it's hard to say if the child has an actual learning disability based on these numbers alone. I mean, is it really a communication disorder or is it because the child is Spanish speaking and new to the country? Can this individual child benefit from special services or would it actually have negative effects taking him out of a general education classroom where he'll be exposed to a wider variety of opportunities to expand his vocabulary? It all comes down to knowing the child, observing him in class, asking his parents how he does at home and looking at his classroom work and behavior. Every child is different." (a.k.a "It depends...")

"Wow! You obviously has a lot of background knowledge in this sort of situation."

"Sure."

I turned to my neighbor, "Is that what we were talking about?"

"Yes. I didn't think you were paying attention."

"I wasn't."

Obviously, reading was too distracting. So I played some internet games that I could still kind of listen to what was being talked about in class. But not really. Because soon the room fell silent again and all eyes were on me again.

"My turn to talk again?"

The teacher nodded.

I said, "Uh... It depends..." using some other terms I pulled out of nowhere.

The teacher said "Wow!" again. My classmates applauded. They actually applauded my BS answer!

I am the Queen of BS!!

Finally It Has Happened To Me

I like Diet Coke.

I went to Costco for dinner. Only Coke products. I decided to try the Diet Coke just one more time. And...

I liked it.

That's all.

Not a classic anecdote.