MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

Middle School P.E. Class: Fitness for a Fat Generation or Institutionalized, State-Sanctioned Torture?

I'm gonna go for the second choice, because my GOD how I despised P.E. way back in the day. Oy! I had Mr. Oliver one year and I swear he was straight outta the Marines or something. I still fear him. Let's face it, I stunk at sports and pretty much anything athletic. And P.E.? My God, except for maybe 6th, there was no good period to have it. You'd get all sweaty and gross and if you didn't want to shower in front of anyone (and gee, at 13, or 14, who does?) you'd have to just get back in your clothes at the end of it and move on to the next period.

I was taken back to my early '80's nightmares today as we were told to go down to the field and observe a P.E. class at the middle school I'm working/studying at. We had uniforms we had to buy, with our names stitched on them in - get this - cursive. White tops and blue shorts for the girls. The boys had reversible gold/blue T-shirts - the colours of our school. Every Monday we had to roll 'em out for Mr. Oliver and show him that they were clean. God that man could yell. I stood there today and Mr. Chapman didn't have to yell because he had a whistle and better yet, a bullhorn. Man, I want a bullhorn. He needed one too. The kids are, yes, sadly apathetic and totally refuse to or are unable to follow directions. They couldn't do a three minute run correctly so he made them run over and over and over until he was satisfied. Then they did push-ups, sit-ups and stretches. Well, half-assed versions of them. I was flashing back like I was on ACID! Then they got to play hockey. On the asphalt. For about three minutes. Because Mr. Chapman spent all his time disclipining the students, they got no real time for P.E. Now we never got to play hockey. I had to play volleyball and softball and I tried to hide from every ball I could. Sometimes we stayed in the gym and did the balance beam and climbed the rope. I sucked at that too. Mr. Oliver loved to make us run around the entire school. I remember saying "If we fall down off school property because he made us run I'm suing!" God, 14 and already thinking about my first lawsuit.

Honestly, it's really sad. The kind of P.E. they do with kids is bullshit. My friend Peri got a degree in kinesiology or whatever they call it but she won't teach P.E. because she agrees it's bullshit. I'm telling you. Fuck Gitmo; get those high-priority terrorists out on the hot asphalt, get a middle school P.E. teacher on their ass and we'd have Osama in no time flat. I felt badly for the kids, even though they were misbehaving. I related to their torture in a decidedly personal manner.

Mr. Oliver eventually married another P.E. teacher at our school, Miss Jensen. What's really sad is that one of their children, a son, died a few years ago in an accident. I was so sad for them...and I'd finally grown up enough to realize Mr. Oliver wasn't a monster...just a teacher and a human being. I still think of him a lot. I could be wrong, but he might still be at my middle school.

I still hate P.E. and really am trying my best to block out the haunting memories.

On a happier note, I did my presentation of children's literature today in my Reading/Writing class. I presented my great Halloween book, called The Twisted Sistahs which is about the very first Halloween started by these three witch sisters who are looking for men and throw a big party for their suitors on October 31st, but then decide the men are so idiotic they just decide to keep throwing a massive party every October 31st. The entire story is kind of long, and rhymes and it's a riot, and so are the pictures. At the end, my professor was laughing and said, "D, all you were missing was the costume!" I admitted that yes, I'd wanted to be an actor when I was younger. So that was my highly dramatic reading of the day.

Speaking of acting, one of my new favourite shows is on tonight...the one with Mr. Tim Hutton, "Kidnapped." Yay. Something to look forward to that doesn't involve a damned book. What's scary is I realized the kidnap retrieval specialist the Cain family hired to get back their son is the actor Jeremy Sisto, who I first saw many years ago when I was in my early 20's and he was in his late teens in the movie Grand Canyon. I distinctly remember seeing that with my friend Jill, and how she remarked how cute he was. Fifteen years later, I agree! I'm like, shit, what happened to that kid? When did he become a man? A smokin' hot man? Although I will say his face looks really big. I mean, huge. Like his head is bigger than normal. He's the only man I've ever seen that I think looks better with facial hair. I'm sure if I saw him in person the first thing I'd say is, "Oh he's so small." That happens with almost every famous person I see. TV and film magically makes people huge. Although I really do think Jeremy might have a significantly bigger face than most of us. I like this show, so naturally, I'm waiting for it to be cancelled. I'm a cynic, I know. A cynic who likes to read children's fairytales about Halloween, and who hates P.E. Go figure.

Photo: Jeremy Sisto in "Kidnapped."

MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

Discombobulated and Melancholy

Those two words pretty much sum up my feelings right now. For some reason this weekend I've been very disoriented and feeling down with no real reason for feeling down in sight. Ambiguous melancholy. I hate it. I don't know why I get it. It's not depression per se, but a lonely kind of sadness, a feeling of total disconnectedness from the entire world. I know some of it has to do with this insane program I've started. OK, I knew it would be intense, but I don't think I knew just how intense. I wake up at the crack of dawn, I get home and am too tired to do anything. I've spent the last four weeks in this whole new world; I feel like I've been dropped in the middle of the ocean even though I'm working with 16 other people - my 'cohorts.' Most of them seem to be as overwhelmed and confused as I am so at least I'm not alone in those feelings. Yet the feelings of isolation and discombobulation persist. I was tired before all the time and now I am tired in a different way. I have homework and projects constantly in my mind. Both daily work and some huge projects looming over me. I've actually been doing pretty well health-wise, considering the fibro. I started a different med which has helped a lot; I'm not getting my hopes up long term however. I've been on a few meds that have helped me a lot in the beginning but in the end their side effects were too horrible or they just stopped working. With less pain however came a little more energy, although I noticed as I started getting more homework in this first month, I also got less sleep.

Two days last week I walked into the teachers' lounge at the middle school and drank a cup of coffee. Now that might not seem like such a big deal but I've never had a full cup of coffee in my entire life and I'm almost 40! I just don't drink coffee. I prefer tea. Obviously you can see I'm a little tired in the morning. Three people in our program are really sick too. I start week 5 tomorrow. I'm actually surprised I've made it this far, haha. I'm happy I'm doing this - although I have a lot of self-doubt and my cohorts and I are less than pleased with the way this program is being run. In fact, we're so confused and feeling quite angry that we've called a meeting with the professor who's running the program; we are supposed to meet with her this week. Oh I can't wait for that. These women (and they're all women) are like Stepford wives. I think they're all on a Valium drip or something; they seem totally out of touch with reality. All of the teachers are "wonderful" and I swear they're like robots. The only other school in CA to have this program is Stanford University; so we're in good company. However I really wonder how Stanford's TNE cohorts are doing. I can't imagine anyone more dingy than these ladies. Hate to say it, but it's true.

I miss everyone - S, Holly, Sandy, Veleska, my friends here. I have no time to write letters anymore, no time to even update my own blog. I'm making a concerted effort right now to get something new down on my blog because I'm sick of that stupid quiz being there. I got home Friday night and tried to catch up on my taped TV programs. I was actually happy House was going on hiatus because of the world series because it'll be one less show to tape. And watch. LOL! This is supposed to be enjoyable - watching my shows. I really love the show Kidnapped with Tim Hutton, Dana Delaney and Jeremy Sisto.

Oh god, Tim Hutton. Now there's a story. He was my first actor/celebrity crush. I was around 13 I think. My friend Jill and I went to see the movie Taps. I can remember it so vividly, 26 years later! I remember the exact theatre we went to, the exact place we sat and how fucking hard we cried at the end of that movie. I mean honestly, you would've thought someone had really died in our lives. I laugh so hard about it now. What were we, insane? Taps was full of today's big movie stars. Tom Cruise, Sean Penn. But I fell for Tim and his boyish good looks. I fell hard. I read that Tim frequented a restaurant in Beverly Hills called The Gingerbread Man (it's no longer there). I tore out articles on him. He was hot stuff after his stunning performance as the suicidal son in Ordinary People; he was 19 years old and received an Oscar for that performance. It didn't help that at 14 I was really, really into my drama class and wanted to be an actor desperately. I still think that's the one thing I would be if I could be anything at all in the world. Funny, I don't even know if I can act really. Thirteen years of living with fibro tells me I can, haha.

Anyway, I badgered my mom into taking Jill and me to Beverly Hills. If I couldn't see or meet Tim, at least I could go there. I was fascinated by it - and I was a native of L.A.!!! She took us to Neiman Marcus for lunch. We were about 14 at this time. I remember that was the very first time I ever had bernaise sauce. To this day, I will do anything, anything at all for a great bernaise sauce. I mean, I seriously love that sauce. My mom was so cool; she hung back and let us go into Tiffany's!!! I'd already been to the Tiffany's in New York City (which has several floors and is a must-see for any girl and fan of Breakfast at Tiffany's!!!). I remember we went to New York when I was 12 and my dad was buying my mom some jewelry there. For some reason though, I just had to go into the Tiffany's in Beverly Hills. I look back now and wonder, what were those sales people thinking when they saw two gawky girls in their early teens walk into the store? Well, we must've behaved because I don't recall being kicked out, haha.

It's interesting; living in Malibu and Brentwood and spending so much time in Santa Monica, West L.A. and the Valley I have seen so many celebrities I cannot count them anymore. Also, while working in the entertainment business for several years I ran into more than my fair share. But I never have seen Tim Hutton. I don't know much about him anymore. I know he was married to Debra Winger, which I found odd, and has a son named Noah. I think he might have another child, I don't know. There are probably a million things I don't want to know about Tim.

So I'm watching him on this new show and I see the grey hair at his temples. I think to myself, "Oh Tim, it's been so long hasn't it?" I hate to say this, but I was always surprised Tim didn't become a 'bigger' movie star. He's a terrific actor. What happened? Bad choices? Timing? Luck? When I was in love with him at 13, he was a MAN of 19!!!!! LOL! He was SO MUCH OLDER! Now, I've caught up to him. We're all getting older. A lot older. Why is it so easy to see yourself age on other people's faces?

A couple of years ago when I was in New York city I went to a restaurant Tim co-owns called P.J. Clark's. It's fantastic. It's in a really, really old building and serves awesome burgers. I wish I was in New York now. Anywhere but here.

So I've spent the majority of this weekend either doing homework or catching up on a) sleep and b)tv shows. I took my friend Gena out for her 43rd b-day last night. Somehow I managed to get us lost in L.A. - my own damned city. That's how screwed up my head is. I'm preoccupied all the time now with homework and this program. There is no life outside the program. I have drunk from the well of the Kool-Aid people. I am lost now; abandon all hope, all ye who enter here. I swear they should've put that on the program forms we got on the first day.

Tomorrow we don't have to go to the middle school because of Yom Kippur. But I do have my Ed Psych class. I start my student teaching on October 23rd with a 5th grade class. I am seriously scared - yes, of a class of 5th graders!! I never in a million years could've imagined the amount of information we're supposed to learn and know and apply as teachers in such a short time. This makes getting my M.A. look like a walk in the park.

In other exciting news, it was overcast here all day and even rained a tiny bit. This is very exciting in a city where it can be hotter than hell all through October. I am so bloody sick of this infernal heat I could scream. The pumpkin patches are out in full force - yay! I still need to get my own Halloween decorations out. It's all I can do not to buy Halloween candy now and eat it. Those damned Reese's pumpkins should be illegal they're so addictive.

I have a quiz in ESL on Tuesday. Did I mention my teacher is this Hispanic Communist? Ok, I don't know about that, but she rambles on incessantly about her own political beliefs and basically spent a lot of class time talking about how us white folk just don't understand race relations. Um, bitch, I've lived in the biggest multicultural city in the U.S. my whole life. I was here for the 1992 riots. Two of my best friends are Hispanic. The city I grew up in is a hotbed of racial unrest. I'm not the dumb ass cracker you think I am. Seriously. There were people in the class who were shocked to find out that Mexico treats the Central Americans about as well as we treat the Mexicans here. No shit senora! And my friend P was stunned to find out that even within races, there's a hierarchy based on the colour of your skin. The lighter your skin, the better you are perceived and the better chance you have in life. I'm not making this shit up. It sucks but it's true. I am so sick of this Latina and her reverse racism though I'm gonna flip out one of these days. We have her class on Halloween this year. Maybe I should start cutting up my white sheet now. And I ain't talking about coming as no ghost either. Apparently me and my peeps are responsible for keeping the other races down. Look, I'm no dummy. I know being born white, although it was totally out of my control, has afforded me great opportunities. But I didn't have any more control over that than others have being born black, Hispanic or Asian. I don't look at these kids and think "I'm not teaching these inferior beings" - Jesus! I look at these kids and think "They deserve only the best from me." She can kiss my lily-white ass. Professors who use class time for their own personal agendas make me sick. I made sure I never got political in my classes. It'd also be nice if she actually did her job and took the time to teach me how to teach content material to English Language Learners, as the students are now called. Somehow though, I have a feeling she's gonna go on and on about that border wall bill that passed recently. I can't believe this is the best person the university has for this job. Here's a comment she'd appreciate: it was probably affirmative action. So chew on that, and viva la raza!

Photo: The lovely Timothy Hutton, 26 years after I first fell in love with him.