Wednesday, April 28, 2004
I NEED HELP
Something is wrong with my blog. When I open it up to view the screen, I can't see my daily reads. It's upsetting me. Does anyone have any suggestions? What have I done wrong? I can't even click on the daily reads links because I can't get to them....and I haven't memorized your webaddresses...so I feel lost to the world, and lost to you.
Please please please help me, friends. Please.
GG
Something is wrong with my blog. When I open it up to view the screen, I can't see my daily reads. It's upsetting me. Does anyone have any suggestions? What have I done wrong? I can't even click on the daily reads links because I can't get to them....and I haven't memorized your webaddresses...so I feel lost to the world, and lost to you.
Please please please help me, friends. Please.
GG
Monday, April 19, 2004
SIX
There are only 5 more weeks of regular school left. Yay! Then comes summer school, which will hopefully fly by like a breeze. I am really looking forward to spending time at home, with Mr. S, in the gym, and by myself. I feel like I could squeeze tears out of my cheeks right now (both the ones on my face and the ones below my waist line! haha)- this is how happy I am with the idea of free time.
Working as a teacher is a lot like going to the gym. When one is at the gym, working on the machines or lifting weights, or cardio is never going to do one good unless the body is disciplined, pushed, strained, and maybe even punished again and again. A fit and tone body takes a beating voluntarily and is better for it in the long run. This is how I see teaching at this time in my life. I have learned many things in the last two years of 9th grade. I am a glutton for punishment; I only want to learn more... about the teaching process, how to write better curriculum, how to make my lessons more exciting and relevant to things in every day culture, society, and things of that nature. I want to be a grammar maven, perfect at speaking my mother tongue- total command when writing, as well. Like working out, my mind and my being must be committed to that finished product. My work each day must be as perfect as it can be, or else, like daily reps with weights, if done poorly, I will not build the "muscles" necessary to provide support (experience) to my teaching and curriculum vitae. Even worse, the kids might suffer.
I know I complain about teaching, but really I am a better person for slaving each day like this: in a thankless job, where someone as educated as I am could really just be called a glorified babysitter. It's a humbling profession, but a noble one.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
In other news, I went to the Kid Rock concert on Friday. Normally, Kid Rock would not be my cup of tea, but let me tell you....
the man can rock.
There is a line in one of his songs that says, "You never met a motha fuckah like me."
Preach it!
Truly, this man is creative. Not only does he SINGLE HANDEDLY command the attention of the crowd, he virtually has them eating right out his hands. He not only sings, bebops (raps or whatever the kids call it these days), but he also plays the guitar, slide guitar, drums (like an animal, I might add), he can scratch records like a D.J. (which he did, by the way), play the piano (they pulled out a grand piano for one of his closing numbers), and dance like nobody's business.
That night, I told Mr. S that I had found a new love, and that he could get lost.
I did feel a mite bit uncomfortable when the pyrotechniques went on and off at various intervals...although they were breathtaking, several flags were unfurled at various points to match the beat and rhythm (sp?) of the pyro-works. One flag was the Confederate flag. Folks, I just haven't made up my mind about that, yet. What does it symbolize? Clearly, Kid Rock isn't racist (his drummer is black AND a female), but it wasn't like there was a healthy ratio of interracial couples like Mr. S and I.
I dunno...still chewing on it.
Either way, might I suggest that you all check out Kid Rock, the man the mystery the magic- when he comes to your town next. He's truly something to talk/ see/ drool about.
Later, taters.
GG
There are only 5 more weeks of regular school left. Yay! Then comes summer school, which will hopefully fly by like a breeze. I am really looking forward to spending time at home, with Mr. S, in the gym, and by myself. I feel like I could squeeze tears out of my cheeks right now (both the ones on my face and the ones below my waist line! haha)- this is how happy I am with the idea of free time.
Working as a teacher is a lot like going to the gym. When one is at the gym, working on the machines or lifting weights, or cardio is never going to do one good unless the body is disciplined, pushed, strained, and maybe even punished again and again. A fit and tone body takes a beating voluntarily and is better for it in the long run. This is how I see teaching at this time in my life. I have learned many things in the last two years of 9th grade. I am a glutton for punishment; I only want to learn more... about the teaching process, how to write better curriculum, how to make my lessons more exciting and relevant to things in every day culture, society, and things of that nature. I want to be a grammar maven, perfect at speaking my mother tongue- total command when writing, as well. Like working out, my mind and my being must be committed to that finished product. My work each day must be as perfect as it can be, or else, like daily reps with weights, if done poorly, I will not build the "muscles" necessary to provide support (experience) to my teaching and curriculum vitae. Even worse, the kids might suffer.
I know I complain about teaching, but really I am a better person for slaving each day like this: in a thankless job, where someone as educated as I am could really just be called a glorified babysitter. It's a humbling profession, but a noble one.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
In other news, I went to the Kid Rock concert on Friday. Normally, Kid Rock would not be my cup of tea, but let me tell you....
There is a line in one of his songs that says, "You never met a motha fuckah like me."
Preach it!
Truly, this man is creative. Not only does he SINGLE HANDEDLY command the attention of the crowd, he virtually has them eating right out his hands. He not only sings, bebops (raps or whatever the kids call it these days), but he also plays the guitar, slide guitar, drums (like an animal, I might add), he can scratch records like a D.J. (which he did, by the way), play the piano (they pulled out a grand piano for one of his closing numbers), and dance like nobody's business.
That night, I told Mr. S that I had found a new love, and that he could get lost.
I did feel a mite bit uncomfortable when the pyrotechniques went on and off at various intervals...although they were breathtaking, several flags were unfurled at various points to match the beat and rhythm (sp?) of the pyro-works. One flag was the Confederate flag. Folks, I just haven't made up my mind about that, yet. What does it symbolize? Clearly, Kid Rock isn't racist (his drummer is black AND a female), but it wasn't like there was a healthy ratio of interracial couples like Mr. S and I.
I dunno...still chewing on it.
Either way, might I suggest that you all check out Kid Rock, the man the mystery the magic- when he comes to your town next. He's truly something to talk/ see/ drool about.
Later, taters.
GG
Thursday, April 15, 2004
KID ROCK
This friday Mr. S and I will be going to see Kid Rock in concert. I am most definitely excited. I have never thought much of Kid Rock, but after Mr. S played me a sample of his most recent CD, I found him not only palatable (Kid Rock, not Mr. S), I also found him entertaining!
Once again I am faced with the difficulty of finding something to wear. I am not sure what one wears to a Kid Rock concert. I would wear what I wore to the Prince concert but I find it unbecoming to be seen in the same outfit twice in short intervals. Sigh. I used to have so many "party" clothes. But of course, that was when I was in grad. school, and I didn't have over 100 papers to grade every weekend.
Sigh... and weren't those the days? Party til 3 in the morning, after hours at someone's house or at IHOP or Denny's because we have the munchies. I remember dancing until I couldn't stand, downing gin and juice, tequila shots, Long Islands, and occasionally-when I felt brave- some Jaegermeister. I used to love the thrill of going dancing to watch people- the thrill of people watching me doing my "thang" on the dance floor. Am I getting too old?
The last time I went "out dancing some guy put his grubby paws on my ass (while I was dancing with my man, of all things! The nerve!), and another guy managed to rub his chest all over mine- this, apparently, was his way of inviting me to dance (how didn't I figure that out?) while Mr. S had gone to visit the facillities. Mr S.- to say the least- did not appreciate this. It was so odd to see him get defensive and threaten to beat them up (by the way- he WOULD beat them up and get his dragged off to jail...I do not doubt it. He is not afraid of such confrontations when he feels they are justified). After I persuaded him to ignore them and we sat down to nurse a beer or two, I reflected upon how nice it was to not only have someone to take dancing (finally- usually guys I date are against it), and also how nice it was to have someone rise to my defense. So many guys these days confuse touching, grabbing, pawing, groping, and in some cases fingering with flirting. How they do this, I don't know- but it's true.
Yes, it's good to be dating this man. It's good to be in a secure "thing."
More later, I have to get ready for my next class coming in.
This friday Mr. S and I will be going to see Kid Rock in concert. I am most definitely excited. I have never thought much of Kid Rock, but after Mr. S played me a sample of his most recent CD, I found him not only palatable (Kid Rock, not Mr. S), I also found him entertaining!
Once again I am faced with the difficulty of finding something to wear. I am not sure what one wears to a Kid Rock concert. I would wear what I wore to the Prince concert but I find it unbecoming to be seen in the same outfit twice in short intervals. Sigh. I used to have so many "party" clothes. But of course, that was when I was in grad. school, and I didn't have over 100 papers to grade every weekend.
Sigh... and weren't those the days? Party til 3 in the morning, after hours at someone's house or at IHOP or Denny's because we have the munchies. I remember dancing until I couldn't stand, downing gin and juice, tequila shots, Long Islands, and occasionally-when I felt brave- some Jaegermeister. I used to love the thrill of going dancing to watch people- the thrill of people watching me doing my "thang" on the dance floor. Am I getting too old?
The last time I went "out dancing some guy put his grubby paws on my ass (while I was dancing with my man, of all things! The nerve!), and another guy managed to rub his chest all over mine- this, apparently, was his way of inviting me to dance (how didn't I figure that out?) while Mr. S had gone to visit the facillities. Mr S.- to say the least- did not appreciate this. It was so odd to see him get defensive and threaten to beat them up (by the way- he WOULD beat them up and get his dragged off to jail...I do not doubt it. He is not afraid of such confrontations when he feels they are justified). After I persuaded him to ignore them and we sat down to nurse a beer or two, I reflected upon how nice it was to not only have someone to take dancing (finally- usually guys I date are against it), and also how nice it was to have someone rise to my defense. So many guys these days confuse touching, grabbing, pawing, groping, and in some cases fingering with flirting. How they do this, I don't know- but it's true.
Yes, it's good to be dating this man. It's good to be in a secure "thing."
More later, I have to get ready for my next class coming in.
