The Fallible English Teacher

I think everyone has had a bad experience with an English teacher in his or her lifetime. You know, that nit-picky perfectionist who constantly corrected everything that was uttered in his or her presence and made you feel worthless of your privilege to speak English.

When people ask me what I do, and I reply that I'm an English teacher, apparently the worst image next to Freddy Kruger is conjured as I usually get a certain facial expression as a response. You know, kind of a just-tasted-something-sour-smelled-something-foul-oh-and-I'm-constipated kind of look. Then, they start to watch for me to say something grammatically incorrect, spell something incorrectly, or not know the meaning of a word (or at least be able to use it in a sentence). Then, they'll pounce on me and try to jerk away all of my teaching credentials or act as if I'm only impersonating an English teacher. So, people don't want the perfectionist evil English teacher, but it's what's expected of you.

This new job thing is totally freaking me out.

ZBizzle

At this very moment I just fell madly in love with Zach Braff. It just happened. Wow. And no, I didn't just watch "Garden State"-- I watched that months ago. Bought a copy a few weeks ago. I was just sitting here, online banking and it happened. Bam! Splaadow~! In love with him.

Ok, so to sound less like a crazy person and more like a...well, a crazy person I guess, ZB is brilliant. He's funny, creative, seems to be really sweet, and doesn't take getting Punk'd very well. Apparently, he likes music, as do I. Undoubtedly, he's loaded, but he's the kind of guy you could absolutely adore even if he was poor. Yet, I'm basing this totally on the two-dimensional personality I see on tv where he pretends to be people he really isn't and reading his LiveJournal, which for all I know, could be written by a journalism major from USC that works as his intern (wow, what a great job!). Yet, just as I sat here figuring out where I'd spent all of my money this week, this affection for him just quadrupled and slapped me right in the neck. I'd sell my pinky toe to share a Coke and a cheeseburger with this guy. I'd bargin with my digits for an opportunity to sit and just chat with this quirky, loquacious neo-nerd with the most fantastic lips. Zach Braff is stunning. He's amazing when he pretends to be bored or heatbroken about some fabricated, no doubt scripted, emotion. When he sneezes, I believe it's love. [Ha! Ha! Ok, I just totally robbed that from a Counting Crows song.]

So me and 368,932 other women (and probably a fair amount of men) find this unattainable icon, this nebbish hunk, this self-deprecating anti-hero irresistible.

Zach Braff, please have a milkshake with me.

I have another blogspot

Alas! I have another blog on blogspot at http://piperbelle.blogspot.com where I actually posted twice. Someone even commented. Wow! Well, person, I'm here now! Come see me here! I wish I knew the password. Hmmmmm.

Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging

I just finished reading the book by that title. It was an adolescent lit book, but it was great. I loved it. I recommend it to anyone with a stunted emotional age, as myself. I still think I'm fifteen.

Today has started off to be a very good day. I'm now really excited about the new job. I talked to some folks there this morning and I know now that I will be teaching 8th grade. I was invited to a thing next week for teachers. This is the COOLEST.

I'm happy!!!!!!!!!!
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Redemption Song

I got a job offer. I accepted. I suppose that means I am now technically an employed school teacher. Me. I will be teaching. So why am I not happy? Why did I cry a few minutes after calling to accept the position? They were not tears of joy.

*****1. I'm scared. This is my first full-time teaching position and I can't screw it up.

*****2. I'm sad because there's no one to share the news with.

*****3. I need teacher clothes. My student teacher clothes just won't do. But I pumped $3.66 worth of gas in my car today because that was literally every last penny I had. Do you think I can afford new clothes?

*****4. Obsessive compulsive disorder runs strongly in my family. It must be the OCD that makes me cry at everything. I never feel good enough.

*****5. I have a competitive streak with MYSELF and feel like that with this being the job that I least wanted and got, I must have inordinately failed.

I hope that in a few days, I can see this as a good thing. I just wish unemployment paid better.

In fact, I didn't even dress up for the interview because I wasn't sure I wanted this job. Granted, I didn't wear my 1984 Bruce Springsteen t-shirt and Be My Valentine boxer shorts, but I didn't do the suit thing I did for all of the others. I did, however, show cleavage. Apparently, that works.

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Song: Two Step
Artist: Dave Matthews Band

Say, my love, I came to you...With best intentions...You laid down and gave to me just what...I’m seeking...Love, you drive me to distraction

Hey my love do you believe that we... Might last a thousand years...Or more if not for this? ...Our flesh and blood it ties...You and me right up...Tie me down

Celebrate we will...Because life is short but sweet for certain..We’re climbing two by two..To be sure these days continue... These things we cannot change

Hey, my love, you came to me like... Wine comes to this mouth.. Grown tired of water all the time... You quench my heart and you... Quench my mind

Celebrate we will... Because life is short but sweet for certain... We’re climbing two by two... To be sure these days continue... The things we cannot...change

Oh, my love, I came to you... With best intentions... You laid down and gave to me just what...I’m seeking

Celebrate we will... Because life is short but sweet for certain... We’re climbing two by two... To be sure these days continue,
Things we cannot change...Things we cannot change.....

Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

Shakespeare said that sleep is our chief nourisher in life. Today, I slept until 11:41 a.m. Now, I did get up at 6:30 and was up until 8, but I went back to bed then and slept until 11:41, but once you remove that hour and half I was up, it's more like I was only asleep until 10:10, which is still pretty astonishing when you think about that for the last five months, I've been up at the latest by 6 a.m. I love sleep. I really, really love to sleep. Apparently, when I was a child, the story goes that I went to Disneyworld with the fam and I slept through the entire trip. There are photos that document this to be true. In every one, I am being wheeled around in a stroller by my favorite Uncle Bobby, who was at the time possibly 12 or 13 years old, and I am asleep. Snoring. ZZZZZZZZZZZ.

In my waking hours, however limited, I've spent some time on MySpace.com. I have an account there.
http://www.myspace.com/redmolly Please go check it out. Especially since it seems to take up a lot of my waking life. Pretty soon, I'll be dreaming about it.

All men whilst they are awake are in one common world:  but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.  ~Plutarch

Once More, With Feeling....

I am going to officially be a graduate student again. I will take summer school courses and fall courses and exercise my brain to the very brink of exhaustion yet again. I will only get to use 3 credit hours from my previous 30. We'll call that first 30-practice graduate school. Dear Lord, let me finish this time. Let me get the coveted master's degree. My family, nor I, can take another several grueling years of hard work to achieve nothing. Give me the strength to get through. PLEASE.

Also, while I'm on it, I need to get a job. A real one. Real money. Making at least enough to get a certified pre-owned car and pay my bills. All of them, not just the ones I deem important.

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Song Title: Coin-Operated Boy
Artist: the Dresden Dolls


coin operated boy ....sitting on the shelf.... he is just a toy...but i turn him on... and he comes to life ...automatic joy ...that is why i want... a coin operated boy

made of plastic and elastic ...he is rugged and long-lasting...who could ever ever ask for more...love without complications galore...many shapes and weights to choose from...i will never leave my bedroom.... i will never cry at night again...wrap my arms around him and pretend....

coin operated boy... all the other real ones that i destroy ...cannot hold a candle to my new boy... and i'll never let him go and i'll never be alone....not with my coin operated boy......

this bridge was written to make you feel smittener...with my sad picture of girl getting bitterer...can you extract me from my plastic fantasy....i didnt think so but im still convinceable....will you persist even after i bet you....a billion dollars that i'll never love you.... will you persist even after i kiss you...goodbye for the last time.... will you keep on trying to prove it?...i'm dying to lose it...confidence

i want it ... i want you...i want a ....coin operated boy.

and if i had a star to wish on... for my life i can't imagine...any flesh and blood could be his match... i can even take him in the bath

coin operated boy... he may not be real experienced with girls... but i know he feels.... like a boy should feel.... isnt that the point... that is why i want a ... coin operated boy.... with his pretty coin operated voice...saying that he loves me that he's thinking of me...straight and to the point...that is why i want

a coin operated boy.....

Quote:
"Six-year-olds and nuclear weapons: a combination that just can't be
beat."-Tom Servo.

The Good That Won't Come Out

My friend Julie invited me to join MySpace.com like weeks ago and I didn't think much about it at the time, but I went there tonight. In one of the bulletins she had sent me, there were a few quizzes. I just took one of those "How Bad Are You" quizzes and scored a 68, which apparently, was pretty darn bad but not bad enough that I should be hanging my head in shame. I never did drugs, so none of that stuff counted against me.
Also, there was this thing called "walk down memory lane" which of course, started me thinking about stuff. I remember I once gave a guy I liked sea monkeys for his birthday, and he gave me a Saturday Night Live poster of the Copy Guy (Rob Schneider).

I did the Do-It-Yourself highlights today. Subtle blonde. Damn right they're subtle. You can't even tell they're there! $6 for nothing, I guess.

I'm reading a great book right now. "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs." I highly recommend.

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You say I choose sadness..that it never once has chosen me...Maybe you're right...It's all the good that won't come out of them...and all the stupid lies they hide behind...It's such a big mistake... It's all of the good that won't come out of me...And how eventually my mouth will just turn to dust...If I don't tell you quick.
-- Rilo Kiley
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How Much Is Too Much?

Sometimes, I overdo. I'm dramatic. I like to make bold statements. Sometimes, I'm just too much. But how do you know that enough is enough? I mean, I have trouble keeping my knees closed when I wear skirt, how can I be responsible for judging what's just enough, not enough, or too much???

Ok, so here's the deal. I had the second interview. Ok, I had two, but from one, I got the standard "we're-keeping-your-resume-on-file" letter. From the other, I got nothing. What does that mean?? They're considering me? Do I check in? I sent a thank you note. I'm assuring everyone I'm doing all I can. So, is it enough?

And is a card and letter sufficient (not for the job) or should I make a CD, too? Too much? Sheesh. Who am I to judge??

My next-to-last-day of student teaching= TODAY! I'm sad.