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Its been a good day..not really surprising. As soon as I wrote my last post, I started to immediately feel better. Like...just putting out there, out of my head helped me. It may help to write about the situation itself...I spent some time debating it in my head, using a realish person as an adversary...based on a real person, but really my imagination. In my mind, it was resolved...but there is still that lingering feeling.

Without talking to a real life person, itapos;ll never end. The only thing I can be is completely and utterly honest and let another judge with a less biased perspective. Its a bit sad that I canapos;t figure out myself, by myself.

My sincere hope is that someday all my feelings can be out there, and someone can tell me: "Your feelings are normal, and you are okay". If things hadnapos;t been so screwed up so long ago..maybe Iapos;d trust myself more.


Its been a productive day - got through lots of stuff (what I didnapos;t do this weekend), and todayapos;s lectures. Tonight Iapos;d like to read/study for tomorrow. Tomorrow, I can prepare for path cases and also read path.

I few minutes ago, I was sad again...but something easier to deal with (not an identity issue). I listened to some music from freshman year of college, and it was like I could feel everything from that year again. I was a bit naive. I trusted in others for my good feelings. But, I was truly very happy.
Its a bit sad...with every passing year, I have always, always...looked at the past as a happier era. It was true during the second half of high school, and then every year in college (perhaps my senior year was a wash...not too happy ever. But stable. Never depressed). This year...I should feel so much happier, but Iapos;m not sure if I do (and certainly not happier than college). It sucks because next year Iapos;m bound to be even less happy...but Iapos;m not sure how much more I can give up.

My music-associated memories have been fading. Some songs I..I canapos;t remember their significance, their strongly associated memory. Thats what made me feel sad too, btw (other than the songs...particularly 45 by shinedown, more becaue it reminds me of a very terrible memory for me).

Dreams last night - all I remember is that John I was dating Kim, and Sarah was in town. In the dream, I marvelled about how people completely unrelated to each other crossed paths in two different ways - John to me to Sarah, and John to Kim to Sarah (where, Kim and Sarah strongly dislike each other). It seemed strange to me...like I was caught in the middle of somehting


....hmm..listening to other songs...there are still a lot of happy memories, some of which that donapos;t make me melancholy :)

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Hi there once again. I guess i should start off by saying HELLOOO to all who have been reading my blog. I never knew this blog had fans haha. Oh wells. Actually i donapos;t usually blog about how wonderful you guys are but since you all ought to know, would just like to say for the record that YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME and if you are reading this it means iapos;m referring to you cos seriously. Veryvery few people know about this blog.

actually i really am thankful to God for allowing me to get to know this awesome bunch of people. Even if you all always gang up on me and tease me all the time i still love you all truckloads and i really need to thank you guys for helping me survive the dreary humdrum of school each and every single day, what with the shitloads of weird and unprecedented problems that iapos;ve been facing since this year started, if you know what i mean. Thanks for listening to me whine about all that stuff and for trying to help me out with thattt. :D :D

anyway you guys can feel free to comment on stuff i say. Whether or not its stuff you agree with, its really fine. Haha its kinda scary to have an invisible audience huh. This is a reflection journal and its meant for me to ponder and to contemplate.

today when i was on my way home i was thinking about what it really means to be truly happy for someone. And the question of whether i can be truly happy for someone ever. Itapos;s pretty hard to illustrate, but i just kinda wonder whether iapos;d still feel happy for someone i love deeply when he/she gets something at my expense. Would i. Would i still be able to genuinely smile and from the bottom of my heart congratulate him/her? i really would like to think so, but somehow i just canapos;t fathom myself as someone with such a big heart.

Itapos;s what iapos;ve always wanted to be. But i donapos;t think thats what iapos;ve been able to do.

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Original posting: Mon, 12 Oct 1998 01:01:25 -0400

EXERCISE: When do you shiver?

Think back to the times when you have felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise, when the goosepimples threatened to become permanent, when your hindbrain was busily trying to get you to either run or fight, but donapos;t stand still...

Pick one of those times, and think carefully about what it was that made it scary.

Then take this, and finish the story with fear...

The shadow in the alley seemed to move, and he stopped to peer more closely at the darkness.� Thatapos;s when he realized the shadow really was moving.

[of course, you could have a light moving in the alley, but somehow, thatapos;s not so spine-tingling as a shadow...]

tink

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Now this proves to be more interesting than the previous event. However, all of these vehicles are too slow. Too cumbersome. It is the problem faced when using land-based vehicles. Wheels slow a vehicle down too much to achieve a great enough speed.

Should anyone retain their vehicles at a later date- ones that are able to achieve speeds that shall prove a challenge -I would welcome a true race. One unhindered by the effects of a curse.

...

Are there truly that many people here who have never seen these forms of transportation before? Even outside of a racing setting.

What do you use in their stead? I have heard of Earthapos;s "horses" before. But surely it isnapos;t the same for all worlds.

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Suppose you got a little bit drunk and decided to send an email. Suppose you sent an email to your professor demanding whisky and cigars. (Possibly also hookers and blow).

Now, in this scenario, you also thought it would be absolutely hilarious to cc it to your supervisor at work. Your scary, angry Russian supervisor. Who hates you (HOORAY).

What do you do when you wake up and remember you sent said emails?

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When is it my turn? I want to date. I go through these bouts of being more than fine...but then I feel so alone...

Am I meant for a relationship.

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A

Dear BK-

Meeting you before moving...the hardest thing ever. You have set a new bar.

-me

Dear Future Boy(?)

Please like traveling and listening to me ramble. Iapos;ll dress up and cook for you.

Hug me even when you donapos;t want to...Iapos;ll learn about sports and video games.

yours for always
A
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Mrs. A_____�and a lady I�donapos;t know sit at the table in the Guidance Conference Room.� Not that I know either of these ladies, but the conference is for W______ A_______ and I can see the relationship between mother and son clearly from the nametags and from the craggy face.��

I introduce myself.

"Yeah, I got something to say to you, too,"�says the mother.� I�have only been a teacher for two years, as many people around me like to point out (notwithstanding the official letter from the District Office-- the one with my last name misspelled-- that calls me "highly qualified"), but I know better than to say more.� I wait for the assistant principal to arrive.� When the waiting gets uncomfortable, my attempts at smiling at this lady I have just met failing in her Mt. Rushmore-like stare, I make a pretext to go out into the dingy "lobby"�of the Guidance Office and look around for the other teachers.� I see Mr. S_______, and he tells me they will be there in a moment.

When most the team is assmbled-- three of W______apos;s core subject teachers (ELA, math, social studies, science), Mr. S_______, the assistant principal, and Mrs. C______, our 6th grade department leader, Mrs. A________�says "What about that, uh, security-- the guy that control the in-school detention".

Mr. S______, my personal hero and a warrior among men, greets the ladyapos;s offense with a smile and says, "Let me go get Mr. M______."�

He disappears for a while.� Presently, he returns, and W________apos;s math teacher enters the fray.� The meeting is ready to start.

At some point I notice an aluminum walker folded against one of the tables in the guidance office.� I wonder who is using it-- the mom, or the other lady, who turns out to be W______apos;s aunt.

The boy himself is also present, head hidden in a skull-log-encrusted black hoodie which his mother frequently tells him to remove.

"This ainapos;t the time to hide" she says.

The boyapos;s first couple of teachers give their reports on W________apos;s behavior and progress, and my heart begins to sink as it becomes clear that W_______apos;s behavior for them-- and both of them happen to be black--- seems to be fairly good.� Their relationships with him are strong.� Meanwhile, the mother is angry because negative reports have come home from myself and Mrs. J_______, the only two white people in the room.�

Iapos;ll go ahead and say that no overt reference to race is made in this meeting.� Mrs. A________ seems to think myself-- and especially Mrs. J_______ have some kind of grudge against her son, though.� She repeatedly makes reference to us "going home and sleeping on it"�and coming back the next day with enduring hatred for her son. �

I begin to wonder, being the warm-and-fuzzy-liberal-arts-majoring-journaler/blogger I am:� am I holding a grudge?� Certainly there are students who seem to present themselves as trouble-makers in every class, and W_______ seems to be one of these.� But have I�labelled him in a way that causes him to meet my expectations to be bad?

The plot thickens, though.� The mother seems to feel that because she "reported"�Mr. M_____�(for allegedly "knocking W_____apos;s juice out of his hand" and insulting him), the entire school was somehow turned against her son.� The phone calls, she says, increased after that incident-- which is kind of like saying casualties increased after the Iraq War began, so they must be caused by global warming.

She became increasingly angry, and I did, too.� When it finally became my turn to speak, I told her, as calmly as possible, that her son had recieved multiple warnings for his behavior, as per school policy.� I�told her exactly which behaviors-- talking during instruction, walking around randomly in the middle of class to throw paper balls in the trash, distracting other students-- had gotten him in trouble, but she didnapos;t really seem to take it all in.

At the end of the meeting, she referrs to a Strike Slip I�had written Walter, saying "And another thing, when yapos;all send home one of these things, make sure you gave W______ a warning first."� I�direct her attention to the note on the slip, which said "Student will not stay in seat during instruction, despite repeated warnings."� This doesnapos;t seem to sink in, either.

To be fair about the whole situation, the walker in the corner turned out to be the motherapos;s.� She "broke her back" in 2004, and understably is now in a fair amount of pain, and is probably too disalbed to discipline her son.� The aunt suggested that we "call his daddy" if there was in trouble.� The father gets home around 6pm.�

Good thing I�sleep in the cabinet in my classroom.

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The cheating secret earlier reminded me of this.

My junior year of high school, I took AP art. You had to do like 35 pieces in a semester. Well, I came up woefully short, even with a shitload of half-assed pieces I did really fast at the very end. Also my dog had died the night before submission day, and Iapos;d just also failed the AP US history test that day, so I sort of broke down and cried.

This girl saw how upset I was and offered to give me some of her extra pieces. The teacher decided to just look the other way, and then the next day the other chick told the principal and my teacher got fired. The really shitty thing about that is that she always acted like she loved him, he wrote her recommendation letters and got her into college, and then one of my other friends in the class asked if she was the one who told and she said "Yeah, I was never a fan of him anyway."

And my friend is still in contact with him, and he still hasnapos;t been able to find another job.

Tl;dr: I cheated and got my teacher fired.

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My husbandapos;s nephew, who is 15 years old is living with us. He arrived in the end of July and heapos;ll leave in January.
We thought that this might be a wonderful opportunity for him to spend six months in the US, improving his English and expanding his horizons.
I was the one who came up with the idea. I believed that I could learn a lot from this experience, from this exchange. Especially I believed that I could open myself more to love.
I never cared much about my in-laws and I donapos;t really know why.�They just seem too uninteresting to me, and they have an aura of melancholy that I find unattractive. They treat me nicely but I donapos;t feel and canapos;t find love for them in me.
I thought that the nephew being here, and connecting more with the way we live and experience life, would be a great opportunity for him to open up to other possibilities and help me make a connection to their family.
Heapos;s actually a very nice kid, he listens,�he adapts, heapos;s trying his�freaking best to�do everything right,� he�helps out in every way he can, he picks up and cleans up after himself, but he has a huge problem: heapos;s here. Heapos;s present. He exists.
Since the boy arrived, I find myself brooding over meaningless things. Every morning, after heapos;s gone to school, and my husband is at work, I find things to complain about, stewing this soup of bad energy. Not real things, just traces of his very existence in my house: a�dish towel thatapos;s not folded the right way, the mirror in his bathroom dotted with toothpaste residue, the loaf of bread that is gone in half a day, a can of soda that was put in the wrong trash.
And I realize that no matter how much I integrate him into our habits and little manias, no matter how much he learns of my little likes and preferences, Iapos;ll always find something else.
I came to this gloomy realization that nothing he does or doesnapos;t do will change the way I feel.
I seem incapable of opening up�to accept and love him.�
I donapos;t feel guilty about it�, �just sad.
Maybe I do care in my own weird way, and Iapos;ll only fully understand it once heapos;s gone. I might deeply regret that I didnapos;t make a better use of the time he was here, that I didnapos;t make the effort. But for now, I count the days for his departure, 3 months and 8 days to go.
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