The Glimmer Man

You were once the queen
The king
And all the players in between
You were the yes men
The yeomen
The north the south the east the west men
You wept for the worst you wept for the rest

And you were going to change
The game
The game has changed you
Nothing new nothing new nothing new nothing fucking new

About this.

You are at the midpoint
You are halfway gone
You are bitter despised forgotten and even you
Can’t keep check of all your petty lies

You want to go down you want go in
You want to go out and let it all end
It’s a never never land a netherworld a bottom line
That’s written in sand

The bill has come the time has gone
Your voice is lost in the wind and no one is listening anymore
Anyway
The mirror crack’d after you
The pieces floating dead in someone else’s eyes
They see the jester the clown the journeyman
You’ve crossed that bridge
Into another town

Pandora’s box was opened wide
Fourteen years ago
And even hope flew the coop
When it saw the hole inside
Your soul

Check the box fill in the bubbles
Punch the clock laugh at the troubles
The grave awaits and the demons writhe
Will you pick a box or a bag
A vault a furnace a wall
In the end it’s all the same swag

Check for a pulse check for the light
Dilated and fixed
Would it get you through the night
Somebody else has to pull the plug
The trigger the lever the switch
Beg borrow or steal
The queen is dead
The yes men have gone

The glimmer man walks by
To light the darkening sky
And hum a forgotten song.

The Wait Is Over

Yeah yeah yeah, I know it's been about three months since I've written.
You don't even want to know. Believe me.
Churchill called it his 'black dog' ; let's just say William Styron and I undertsand each other a lot better now. Well, he's dead, but you get the drift, right?

So anyway, I return with but one burning question on my mind:

Why do people tape themselves having sex? I mean, celebrities, regular folk - why do they do it? I don't want to watch myself getting out of the shower much less having sex. Sometimes I haven't even wanted to be in my own body whilst having sex!

What are these people thinking?

I know what you're thinking: I waited three months for this? Ah shut up. This is like the great American novel for me. Baby steps people, baby steps.

Photo: Eric Bana. Someone I'd let turn the camera on.

Fin.

Freedom.
The nightmare of the past nine months
is officially over.
I'm credentialed and at least 10 years has been
shaved off my life.
I get to sleep in tomorrow. I can watch TV. I can go to the
movies or watch DVD's without worrying about those fucking
nasty bitches or that rotten program or those stupid assignments.
I can visit my friends (yes I do have some left) and go out to dinner
and lie on the floor staring at the ceiling if I want to.
I am free from the clutches of those old, wrinkled, inefficient, insulting,
lying, manipulative cows.
It's gonna take me a few days to process the fact that I'm free.
Looking for a job will be a piece of cake next to what we went through.
I look forward to speaking to people I haven't even talked to since last August - before I went through this meat grinder.
Also, what's up with this font? I've changed it in the 'edit' portion of this blog about ten times and it still comes out looking huge.
What's it all look like to you guys?

I Forget You Forever

It is over now.
So many things.
Tomorrow,
my last class, my last assignment
the last time I will likely ever see most
of the 16 people I have lived so closely with
the last 9 months.

It is over now.
An 8 year friendship - ended in a split second of
rage and misery. What is left - a package of books
sent in the mail, a key to my front door, someone who
I thought was my best friend changing the locks on her door
I never knew what hit me
She never told me why
It was over before I knew it
Eight years and a week of grieving
sighing, why why why?

I had lunch with her on Sunday and by Monday it
was finished
I'd tell you if I knew what caused this death
and it was a death indeed - a murder of me - but still I breathe
I never saw her; she hid in her bathroom when I came to her house to pick up my videotape from her husband (he'd taped me for my portfolio)
I never spoke to her; she left a screaming message on my machine
I was unable to find out what I'd done, what I'd said to cause
such immense rage
Though now, almost two weeks out, I suspect it had little to do with me
Projection is a great defence

Still
I grieve
and wake up and think
I will call this person, my friend and tell her
"Oh you will not believe what happened. One day I had a friend and the next I did not. You see, someone died; she died in a car accident and I never had a chance to say goodbye." But she didn't die. She just erased me completely from her existence.
There is no rhyme or reason despite my persistence
in wondering, wondering, wondering.
No one, man or woman, has ever, ever, ever treated me with such harshness, such coldness, such utter indifference

She called my mother up crying the night she flipped out
She is 43 and could not face me, but called my mommy???
I do not understand this.

Her timing was impeccable. I spent the last week of student teaching
in a daze - stunned, shocked. I cried at my 'graduation' ceremony. I was walking in a surreal world of obligations and incriminations
My students were my sweet salvation and amazed me on my last day with notes, cards, flowers, and hugs that seemed never ending. I cried and did not want to go.

I wrote my portfolio in a dizzy mad state - for four days I did nothing but sit at the computer and type and scan and attach and click and type until my eyes blurred from the glare of the screen and the burning of my tears

She never called, she never wrote, she never faced me
She went insane and surely you must be thinking "Well you had to have done something for her to act this way"

Ah yes of course!
You see, Monday, May 14th we were on the phone; I was very stressed, very pressured, very PMSy and crying and asking her for the digital tape that her husband had videotaped me with because he was a stubborn fool who wouldn't admit he didn't know what the hell he was doing and my video for my portfolio wasn't working - I'd just come from a friend's house where we tried to work it out on a CD but it wasn't working - so I called her, quite upset, and was doing something stupid. I was on my cell phone, crying, not paying attention and almost got hit by a car as I went right through a stop sign. I dropped the phone as I veered the car to the right and pulled over. I tried to call her back. She wouldn't answer the phone.

I knew why. She thought I'd hung up on her. I tried to tell her I didn't. I told her I almost got hit by a car and dropped the phone to grab the steering wheel and slam on the brakes. She refused to believe me. She insisted I hung up on her and 'she would not be treated that way' - my god, it was my life or staying on the phone with her. My instinct to stay alive and not get hit simply overwhelmed me and I dropped the cell phone as a reflex and it closed shut and hung up.

OK. So THAT was the straw the broke this woman's back? Who knows.
Her behavior became insane, irrational, nuts. And in a matter of hours, it was all over. Eight years with someone I trusted, I thought was a dear friend, someone I'd spent so much time with, someone I opened myself up to.

At this moment, I feel I never want to do that again. I feel if she can do this to me, anyone can do anything to me. I don't trust anyone. I am afraid to even try and trust anyone ever again. I feel I want to crawl up into a tiny ball and never ever let anyone inside again. No one will hurt me like this again. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever.

She is 300+ pounds and sits in the house all day. She does nothing. Her perogative - but sometimes I wondered what the hell we had in common. Now forgive me if I offend anyone because I've gained quite a bit of weight over the course of the program which I am already shedding due to the stress of this week...but this is the second morbidly obese friend I've had and well...these people seem to have more issues than National Geographic as they say. I'm sensing a pattern here.

Oh God yes I've got problems. I'm in a constant state of trying and not always succeeding, to better myself. I'm the first to admit my fucked-upness.

She won't. She'd rather throw me away like a piece of trash. And change the locks on her door. I went over when she was out of town, simply to put her bag of books I'd had inside her hallway. I was going to leave the key under the mat. I've never, ever, ever gone over to her house and used her key without permission. I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach when I realized what she'd done. She CHANGED THE FUCKING LOCKS? These people were like my family. Her husband was my good friend too. They BOTH did this to me? I felt like they thought I was some kind of thief. I was degraded. I tossed the key in the street.

In the middle of one her Weight Watchers books she'd loaned me (obviously she wasn't using them) I left a note - the name of a psychiatric center near her house. I told her she needed help. Nasty maybe. But true.

No relationship in my life, be it with a boyfriend or a female friend, has ever ended so horribly. But I will not sit and wonder what I did anymore. I have no idea. Even if I had hung up on her, did that warrant her hiding in her bathroom from me? Calling my mom at midnight? Changing the locks on her door? Spending $13 to mail my books back to me when she could've just dropped them off on my doorstep while I was at work? We live three minutes away from each other. What in the holy fuck happened to her? I don't even know that person.

I cannot take anymore craziness.
This has completely colored the end of my program, which as you know, has been a real nightmare.
But the end is here.
And I will forget her forever.
And I will move on.
Sadder but no wiser.

This is My Brain on Student Teaching

Oh god am I sick. AGAIN. This must be my fourth cold in five months. This time I have a raging sinus infection and fever. I can't smell, taste or breathe. You know, the little things in life. AND my kids had the GALL to tell me yesterday that it was MY fault THEY all had colds! HA! I said "There are 20 of you - and you're ALWAYS sick! There's only ONE of me!" LOL! They are little germ-spreading freaks. I am going to miss them like crazy. I want to cry just thinking about how much these annoying kids have gotten into my heart. I was worried because it took me a while to bond with them - but I did. Damn kids.

So I'm on Levaquin - my standard antibiotic and I slept about 12 hours last night. My throat is raw and I couldn't even watch TV. I just passed out at about 8 p.m. So Levaquin and Tylenol Severe Cold ,medicine must be some wild drugs because I had the CRAZIEST dreams last night and when I woke up I remembered the dream vividly. Hours later, I still do. I'm going to write my dream here - I don't know how much you'll understand - but the names of the people are people in my program. All other names have been changed to protect the guilty, ha.


My dream: We were taking classes back at my university - although it looked like a mall, not our university at all. Naturally, I'd missed like three of the first classes for some reason (I always have these anxiety dreams where I miss classes). I met with one of the professors on what looked like a porch/stoop or something and she was really nice and told me what reading I had to make up. We were taking classes alongside TODDLERS! We all stood in class and there were adults and tiny kids taking the class too! And there were babies in the classroom. In what seemed to be some kind of advanced math methods class my friend Peri chose to sit at a computer - but there were also BEDS in the classroom. They were single beds with white sheets. I sat in the class lounging in one bed, and my friend Jen lounged in the bed next to me, and next to her was her BOYFRIEND! Then the teacher gave us all some seasoned green beans to eat. We were all laughing hysterically eating these beans. Apparently they tasted really good and there was something wildly funny about them. Then she showed us something on the CBS evening news and we all started crying; it was the CBS news from the 1970's! I remembered the old newscasters and everything. My cohorts Amber and Chelsea were also in the class. So was Rob - but Rob was absent - naturally! I kept asking "Where are the other members of our cohort" At one point I was walking somewhere with Cheri and I said "Oh yeah, Donna quit for now."

It gets even better - after class, Jen and I walked to an area of the class where there was a little 'liquor store' - Jen was thinking about taking home a big bottle of whiskey. We had a liquor store in the class and after class we could stock up. What a riot. I was looking at a the 'baby bottles' of booze. I adore them - I collect them actually; I don't drink them. I asked Jen if the big bottle of whiskey was good. She didn't respond, and she didn't buy anything. I didn't either. Then Peri, Jen and her boyfriend and I were walking to take the bus home. I don't exactly know what happened to my car. It's like I forgot it somewhere - and yet I remember thinking "My car's so messy inside. I can't drive it anymore." This is so true. I am not normally this messy of a person - but my car is a disaster zone now.

So we all got on the bus, at the back and there was hardly anyone else on the bus. I had to go to the bathroom the entire time. Nice detail, huh? Again, we went to a mall parking structure to catch the bus. Now what's really strange is that as I was dreaming this, in the dream, I was thinking about the fact that I was about to have an affair with this guy (have no idea who he was) who seemed to be a family friend and he and his perfect Barbie doll girlfriend came to my mom's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Gena was there and mentioned there was no stuffing and how my mom didn't really go to any effort with the dinner. I was really mad at Gena for saying that. I felt she was insulting my mom; but it WAS a strange meal. Then I find myself sulking and longing for this 'mystery man' inside some long black car (I swear it seemed like it was a hearse) between two streets close to my mom's house. Then, this mystery man, who I felt I LOVED and LUSTED after, came over to the car. I rolled down the window a little bit and put my fingers on the glass and he started sucking on my fingers. He had long, blondish hair and was REALLY classically good looking. The type of guy that would NEVER go for ME in real life. LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who the hell is this guy? NO ONE! It's just my libido saying "For God's sake woman - are you EVER going to get some again?" LOL! Oh - and then this hot mystery man appears in one of our university classes. He stands in front of me at a desk. He opens his shirt and starts to pull down his pants and show me his underwear! A PORNO DREAM! I am cracking up laughing as I type this. What a riot. How sick am I?

I'm thinking all of this as we are all on the bus. So I'm dreaming and thinking too - does that make sense? Then Peri and I get off at our stop - but naturally I forget my TWO rolling suitcases. I have TWO - not one. We are close to my mom's house on this long street, running down the street trying to stop the bus. We are screaming at the bus. I PANIC - naturally. Oh - Amber is with us too. I make her call Jen, who is still on the bus. She can't get a signal. I pull out my cell phone - except it isn't mine and I can't understand it at all. I just look at it, totally unable to figure it out. At some point we see Jen and her boyfriend. The bus is long gone. I whine and whine about how am I going to get my bags. Then Jen falls down a flight of stairs - don't ask where they came from. Her boyfriend rushes down to check on her - she is really dazed. We all run down to see if she is OK. She is, pretty much.

Is this not FUCKED UP or what? Freudian???? Oh wait- I remember some more - I also dreamt about my cousin having her baby and my mom was bitching that today you could just set an appointment to have a baby. LOL! I have no idea where that came from - my cousin hasn't had a baby in almost four years.

I saw a job advertisement for a home economics teacher. It listed the class schedule - and two of the things on the schedule were "the channel 7 news" and "terrorism"! I said "Wow, when I took home economics we learned how to make artichoke hearts and sew pillows. This is true - this is what I did in my 7th grade home ec class. Boy has that shit helped me in life. Not. Anyway, now they're making kids watch the news and learn about terrorism.

I can probably explain almost everything in the dream - I think I know where it all came from. Isn't the brain fascinating though - how it creates all this symbolism? Still, I need to get laid. Let's face it. I need to fall in love. I need to do so many things that have NOTHING to do with work, teaching and most of all, this stupid ass program.

Only 9 teaching days left. 17 days total left. I can hardly believe it. I'm still trying to get recommendation letters from my mentor teachers. I can't properly look for a job without having these. Naturally everyone is now moving at the pace of a slug. A job? Fuck it. What I need now is a stud.

Photo: Can't someone get me this for graduation?

It's *All* About the Numbers Now

As if it hasn't been for months.
Anyway, 14 teaching days left.
22 total days left.
Doing time in one of the circles in Dante's Inferno
is actually going to end.
End well? No. Just end.

Today I Turn Forty.

40!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Coda

And in the very end
Will I sit by some dimly lit window
Gently holding all the children of my discontent
The whispers of disbelief and soft, sad sentiments

Floating through the gun metal gray haze of winter dusk.

Will we go quietly
The carrion waiting patiently
For some discombobulated demise
Will this numbing silence define all of my goodbyes

In all of the dusty rooms of my forgotten mind.

Will I rock gently to sleep
Unanswered questions born long ago… so broad and deep
Will I caress the haunted relics of my suffering
Kissing sweetly the dull aching and the long, deep, bitter want

In all my days there was beauty and horror
And in the very end I shall lay down this burden
This interminable grief
These neurons insistent upon fact not faith

And like offerings before a great god
I will lay down my questions, my tears, my empty prayers
My sufferings, my sacrifices, my wicked grief

And I shall finally go home.

Five Weeks, Three Days, 8 hours

That's it. I think that says it all.

The Defeated

How far
How deep
How far down
can you be beaten
into the ground

I remembered a ghost last night
In the flickering blue light of the TV screen
And the images in my mind
Was it all a dream?

What happened to the beauty
I had inside of me?
What has happened to my humanity?
I am no one and no where

I am unrecognisable to myself
And all those around me
If you think you know me
You've been fooled too
This is a shell, some kind of debauchery

The more I've learned the less I know
The more I've seen the less I see
I turn my head away from all reflections
For if you spend time with monsters
you become a monster
and this monster is me.

Seven Months Down, Seven Weeks to Go

It is extremely difficult for me to articulate what my second semester in this detested program has been like. Has it been any better than the first? Perhaps in some minute ways. I have finished the majority of my 6 and 8 week classes; 6 classes in 6-8 weeks was incredibly intense and all-consuming. I made an "A" in my social studies class which had to be some kind of miracle. Indeed I finished with flying colours and straight A's. For the first time in my life I have been invited to join an Honor Society - Pi Lambda Theta - the honour society for educators. Sadly my 4.0 GPA seems like a hollow victory compared with the miserable reality of this program and the sad, ineffective student teaching assignments we've been given.

I am still entrenched in two ongoing classes and projects - technology and equity and diversity. Oddly, I predicted I wouldn't like the latter but the conversations we had in that class were some of the most stimulating, enlightening and interesting conversations I've had in my life. I felt reborn after each class. I discovered so much about myself - about my prejudices, my feelings about multicultural education, bilingual education, racism...I was forced to take a good, long, hard look at myself and realise that whatever changes I ever hope to attain in any classroom I am in must begin within myself. The class has been a gift. Those of you following my progress through this Dante's Inferno of a program must realise by now I rarely have anything positive to say about any of it - so enjoy the positive comments while you can!

Technology has been helpful as I was someone who is told old to have gained much technology in college and I've been a techno-phobe for a long time. I've finally learned to do PowerPoint, and we're about to begin designing our own websites. It's a fairly easy class we have every Thursday after we leave our student teaching.

Ah...and now for the real news. The second semester of student teaching began on March 12th. Last semester I taught 5th grade and really enjoyed the students. We are forced to pick a primary grade one semester and an upper elementary grade the second semester. For some insane reason I truly believed I'd enjoy working with smaller kids since I loved my kinder experience so much last year. So I chose 2nd grade. Unfortunately I have discovered I am not cut out to teach lower primary grades. I admit it, I can't handle the little kids. I've been placed in a much better school, and in fact I'm in the math/science magnet with a class of 19 gifted students. And yet...this is not for me. The good news: I have a brilliant mentor teacher. She's in her 60's and is by far the best teacher I have ever seen in my life - and in this program to be sure. The class is very well-behaved and amazingly the kids are very kind to one another. There isn't a lot of fighting or tattling. It's just one of those fortuituous times in life when you get a class that is really exceptional in every way. That being said, I'm having a tremendously hard time with my lessons. I can't seem to bring the material down to a 7 year old's developmental level. I have always been an incredibly profound thinker; I gravitate constantly towards higher-ordered thinking and that's why I enjoyed college so much. I even found gratification working in 5th grade.

I definitely thought this would be the easier part of the program. Yes, we are teaching a full day and are attending all staff/faculty meetings and doing everything a normal teacher would - for absolutely no pay. Boy do I have some different opinions about how we train teachers in this country. The nobility crap is working against us - we should not be expected to give up a year of our lives with absolutely no pay. But that's not a matter I'm terribly concerned with now.

I have bigger fish to fry as they say. Each of us has a mentor teacher and a faculty supervisor. The supervisor comes in about 5-6 times to evaluate us on specific lessons. Last semester I had a very competent woman. This semester I knew I was going to have a woman who makes Hitler look like a humanitarian and I know hyperbole is all over that sentence, but truly, as God is my witness, I have never met a colder, meaner, nastier, more distasteful human being in my life. This woman happened to be our seminar teacher last year so as long as I did what was required of me during the seminar I could fly low and avoid her radar. I'd heard horror stories of this woman sending student teachers out crying after their lessons. My best friend had this woman as a supervisor and she almost failed my best friend who is a bright, capable, experienced T.A. and student teacher. I'm not sure there are words in any language to describe how much I loathe this woman. She is on a cruise ship now and I told my friend if I found out she fell overboard I wouldn't bat an eyelash. I don't want karma to come back and bite me on the ass - but really, I'm wondering if this woman has a heart. I wouldn't be surprised to find you could open up her back and find wires and batteries. There's something fundamentally wrong with this human being and she has our evaluations in her hands. She is arrogant, mean, cruel, revels in humiliating you, and she's impossible to please. I've done two lessons for her and I am convinced I could dance on the head of a pin and it wouldn't please her. She decimated my lesson (and the lesson didn't work - I admit it) and me the other day in class - listing every single negative thing I did without listing ANYTHING positive I did. Get this - I'm not allowed to write on the whiteboard (they used to be chalkboards). Yet I have to - but I can't turn my back on the students. So you figure out how to write something down without turning your back on your students AND not using the whiteboard in the meantime Her reality is so far from what goes on in the classroom I have to laugh at her. And pity her. My mentor teacher laughs at her and finds her extremely distasteful as well. Thankfully, my mentor teacher is fully on my side and can't stand this woman either. She is a sourpuss, never smiles and I truly have to wonder what kind of teacher she was. I pity her former students. I have no problem taking constructive criticism - I am the first one to admit I am struggling with teaching 2nd graders - but to be torn to pieces and not given anything positive to go on is totally unacceptable to me. I admit it. I was so stunned after my second lesson at lunch I went to my car and cried harder than I've cried in months. I called the woman who runs the program and left a semi-hysterical message for her telling her I was 7 weeks away from the end of this program and I want to quit.

The question is: Why am I letting this woman get to me so much? Yes, she has the power to give me a very, very bad evaluation. And we have to attach these evaluations to our portfolios and employers might see them. So I am concerned about this. But I am becoming obsessed about my next lesson - and I'm on the first day of my Spring break. I'm having a hard time enjoying myself because I can't stop thinking about what I can do to please her. Frankly, not to put too fine a point on it, but I could not give a shit what she thinks of me or my teaching. I will respect those who respect me. I have no problem respecting those I feel are truly trying to help me, not play power games with me and humiliate me. And it's not just me she does this to - it's everyone. I just happen to be a very stubborn Taurus. I already have huge issues with people telling me what to do. But I thought we'd work together to get me to be a better teacher. I didn't think I'd be raked over the coals every week.

It's taking all my concentration away from what I really need to be doing - working for the students' benefit. Even though I know 2nd grade is not for me, I am willing to stay in the classroom, learn from my brilliant mentor teacher and try to make the best of the situation. It's only 7 weeks right?

Last night, I was watching a movie - not a very good movie - and my mind started wandering. All of a sudden it struck me that I hate who I've become since I began this program. I am unhappy, negative, bitter, tired, worn out, depressed, anxious, burned out, angry, disappointed and fed up. And think - I haven't even gotten my first teaching job. I had a very telling dream last night. I dreamt I got a job - just not in teaching. I know in my heart I want to get my secondary credential in social studies - I should've done this to start with I suppose. I will teach high school - and hopefully the upper grades of high school which is not that different from teaching junior college.

Anyway...I was thinking about who I am now...and who I was before I entered the program. I feel like I was someone else before last September 5th. I feel like this has been an obstacle course. I have jumped through more hoops than an animal at the circus - we all have. Oh - and good news - I took and passed the hardest test they make us take - the RICA. It's a test to show we know how to teach children to read. It was the hardest standardized exam of my life. But I passed on the first try - and I was sicker than a dog when I took it. So according to Bush and NCLB - I'm now considered highly qualified. HA!

So why am I having such a problem with this woman? Sure, I want to tell her off. I want to sit her down and force her to give ME a lesson on the Italian Baroque in exactly 20 minutes. I want her to squirm and sweat trying to teach something I'm an expert at. She's pathetic. She's a retired elementary school teacher who has been hired by the college to supervise us and she thinks she's a professor. Does she even know what it takes to become a professor?

I have been through a lot in my almost 40 years as my readers know. The death of my father. My ongoing health issues. Fires, floods, earthquakes, suicides, growing up with a raging alcoholic, the illness of my father, my own health problems. It dawned on me - it actually dawned on me that oh my god - I had a life before these last 7 months. I was a person who went to college, who worked in the music industry. I was a publicist for a show at the Greek Theater when I was 23. I worked for Disney, I worked in the music industry. I put myself through graduate school. I taught college for 6 years. I survived the worst kind of death imaginable. I lived with my pain and fatigue everyday. I was a bereavement facilitator for 4 years. I did some of the best things of my life back then. I counseled a couple whose son immoliated himself at age 13 in their front yard. I've traveled all over the US and to Europe, Mexico, Canada. I sort of remember what sex was like. I used to read and go to movies and laugh and enjoy life despite whatever obstacles were thrown my way. The point is - I've lost myself. The price has been too high. I used to write daily. I used to read. I used to laugh more and cry much, much less. I used to have the energy to stay in touch with friends. Does it sound like I'm trying to both convince myself and remind myself I HAD a life once??? Yes, I am.

I'm on break until April 9th. My next lesson is a science lesson on sound. I'll be doing the lesson in front of my mentor teacher first. I'm still waiting to speak to the head of the hold program (though she's as useless as anything I've ever encountered)- but I will put it in writing and have it on record that I will not accept or sign a final evaluation of my work that I feel is unfairly low. I know I need help - that's just it - help! Not humiliation.

Did you think it was going to get better? So did I. But seven weeks...it isn't that long. And when I'm done, I never have to see these incompetent bitches again. Now that's something to look forward to.

One Week Down, Fifteen to Go

Ha ha ha. Actually my first week back at school wasn't that bad. Still...here's the good news: I really like/love my social studies class, although the prof is a hardass, and it's almost impossible to get an A in her class. I don't even understand that kind of mentality, having taught college students myself...but whatever. I love social studies. LOVE IT. In fact, I think I'm going to get a secondary credential in it. Wait! Don't freak - apparently getting a secondary credential doesn't involve much after this. I just need one more class and I do have to pass the single subject CSET. But studying for history and other social sciences is actually fun for me. Most people in the class hate social studies. Too bad for them!

The science class is a breeze and fun - I had the same teacher last semester for math and he's great. And I spoke too soon - I actually like the Equity and Diversity Class although all our readings DO point out how I, the quintessential WASP, am responsible for the oppression of every other race in this country. The only 'oppressed' status I have is as a female. Otherwise I am your typical Western-European mutt, white anglo-saxon Protestant oppressor. Even though my relatives were poor as dirt, and my ancestors didn't have anything, even education, I have White Privilege. Actually, don't think I don't know I've had it easier because I've been white, and I've had some money. I do know it. But I do get tired of being blamed for slavery and immigration woes. Anyway, my professor, who speaks in a whisper, is actually a pretty nice, really intelligent Latino who doesn't seem too much of a crazy activist type. I talk a LOT in that class. In fact I talk a lot in all the classes. Sometimes I don't recognize myself - I used to be so shy. I'm like a whole other person. What happened? Sometimes we try so hard to change something about ourselves and we can't do it and then other times we simply change and don't know exactly when or how or why it happened.

Health class is ok and will be a breeze. We learned about 12 year olds giving blow jobs last week. Wow. This generation freaks me the hell out. The worst class is PE which brings back memories of all the horrible PE classes I ever had. I'm sorry. I hate PE. I know kids are obese today. I know activity is important. But just getting in the gym made me feel like I was gonna break out in a sweat - and not from activity. No one is yelling at me now, I'm not gonna be the last person picked for a team - but holy crap I hate institutionalized activity. Let the kids run around for an hour like wild howler monkeys for all I care.

My biggest concern now is this RICA reading exam I have next Saturday. It is a bitch and just one more hoop to jump through. What's amazing is I'd say 90% of the teachers in our schools today were never required to take ANY of these tests. So we still have a shitload of less than highly qualified teachers in the classrooms. They don't have to study like we have. They don't have to prove their knowledge like we do. I'm not saying we'll all be great teachers because we've had to do these things - but the fact that shitty teachers can't be fired is a crime.

I feel like I'm missing a class. Oh, technology. That should be interesting. We're learning Power Point. I've actually NEVER done anything with Power Point. The fact that I even know how to work this blog is a technological miracle. I am so bad with the computer and I do feel I need this course.

Hopefully Monday we find out what school we'll be teaching at, and what grade. I am still freaked out about that. I can't take charge of 20 7 or 8 year olds! Good God, what have I gotten myself into?

Tomorrow is Stupid Bowl Sunday. Have I mentioned I DESPISE football and all the idiotic madness that goes along with this day? What the hell? This country is nuts. I know, I remember the madness around soccer (real futbol!) and the World Cup blah blah - sports people are NOT my cup o' tea. I am going to the L.A. Zoo for a Black History month festival for my social studies class. I have to go; I admit it, I don't want to go. But maybe I'll become enlightened and I can find someone there to apologize to for being white. Haha. I am hoping it will be lightly attended because of Super Bowl, but I doubt it.

And finally, it's hot here again. @&^%*%&#($(#!!!! weather. I mean 80+ degrees. Just when I was enjoying the cold. L.A. sucks.

The Program , Part II

As much as I've wished this vacation to be over the last couple of weeks, here it is, one day left, and I'm a little shocked. Six weeks gone - poof! And what did I do? Slept a lot. Read a lot. Whatever I did or didn't do, it's over, tomorrow is my last 'free' day really, until it's ALL OVER. Primarily because we are being assigned, I assume, to a year-round school (don't even get me started on those and how much I hate them) and they do not have spring breaks. So no spring break. Also, my university managed to put President's Day at the end of December for some reason. So I really cannot think of one real holiday we'll be getting. And I'm certain the Powers That Be will allow us again, ONE missed day of full student teaching in 9 weeks - which is insane. One day in over two months? People get sick, shit happens, but they harp on that constantly.

So here I am...am I ready to go back? Not really. Not in the sense of someone who's just been through three and half months of one of the worst experiences of his/her life and you say "Well, would you like some more?" I'm sure my readers think, well she's GOT to be exaggerating, how BAD could it be? Believe me, I've been through some shitty things in my life and y'all know it. The horrible shock of the death of my dad and the way I found him, my own struggles with ongoing health issues...I've been held at gunpoint, narrowly escaped a raging fire, almost drowned in the Pacific ocean in Hawai'i and rode out the Northridge earthquake. I've had shitty jobs, bosses from hell and all the other intolerable situations we all have. Seriously, after my health, and my dad, this Program is the worst experience of my life. I didn't believe such ineptness existed in the world. I never dreamt you could be pushing 40 and be treated like a mentally defective child by people who by all rights and means should hold no job period. Forget the gangs, the illegals, the kids who don't speak English. That's tough, but I can live with that now. It's knowing we have to go back to these same morons for 4 months that sucks and blows at the same time, to quote Bart Simpson.

But alas, I have to return. As I've mentioned, this semester, we'll be taking 6 classes in 6 weeks. Health, kinesiology, social studies/arts (yay), technology in the classroom, science and my most dreaded class, equity and diversity. What a joke that's gonna be. Especially since it's being taught by a Latino professor who wrote our textbook and I sincerely doubt all races are going to get a fair shake. But I shouldn't judge him on his race, because I'm being racist. Wow. Show me one person in L.A. who isn't in some small way racist and I'll show you a liar.

Then, if the idiot teachers do NOT strike, we'll be starting our full-day student teaching on March 12th. At this point I have NO idea where I'm teaching and no idea what grade. I asked for 1st or 2nd grade - preferably 2nd. I'm sure we'll be teaching at another school in the valley - I'm just hoping it won't be as gang and violence ridden as the last school. I hope to find out Monday if they've figured out where they're putting us.

I am trying to go into the second semester with a somewhat different attitude - one of detachment - as much as I can. Because there is almost nothing I can control except of course, my attitude. I can't control the idiots, I can't control their idiotic behavior, I can't control the professors, or where I get placed or what school I'm placed at, or what mentor teacher I get. I can't control the strike or the schedule. I'm hoping I can control my mouth, because several times last semester I really thought I was going to get kicked out of the program for voicing my not-so-happy opinions. The 'kids' as I call them now - the 22 -25 year old girls, all looked at me like I was insane. Some of them are fresh out of college though. They've never even had another - no, any job! Naive isn't the word for it. Life has been fairly kind to them thus far. I feel sorry for them in a way. I can't imagine being 22 and going to be a teacher and doing nothing else - having no perspective on life other than being in the classroom. As much as I disliked some of my other jobs, I like the fact I had them, that I was exposed to business, and different types of people, different ways of doing something. Well, they don't care. They formed their own little clique right off the bat and I'm too old to matter to them.

So yeah, here's hoping and praying I can put my meditation practice to work, and keep my blood pressure down. I really don't know if I'll be busier with this schedule - although honestly, I cannot imagine that. I cannot imagine ever being busier than I was last semester. So I don't know how often I'll be writing on here. I'm hoping to at least write some happier updates...if it kills me. ; )

The 25

Oh heck, everyone's doing it - why not jump on the bandwagon...although suddenly I fear I don't even have 25 very interesting things to say about my life that people don't already know about because of this blog or my big mouth!

25. When I was at a preschool, around age 3, some nasty bitch locked me in a utility closet all day because I was crying for my mom. Yes I remember it - I have a fantastic and scary memory. Despite this event, I'm not really claustrophobic.

24. I have an irrational fear of pool drains. Don't ask why - I've never had an accident with one, knock wood. Honestly, I get nervous when swimming in the deep end of a pool and I know I'm over the drain. It freaks me out just to look down at it. I don't fear any other kind of drain. Weird, huh?

23. I have traveled to every state in the union except Florida. I've been to Alaska and Hawai'i' - Hawai'i three times. I really have no desire to go to Florida.

22. I would venture to say I've seen, encountered, etc. more famous people, movies stars, celebrities, musicians than anyone I know. I've never approached one or spoken to any one of them (we don't count The Church people!) - except when I sold them books at a bookstore. This is both a law of natives of L.A. - we don't feed the celebrities, and also my own personal belief in not bugging famous people on their off time.

21. When I was 24 years old, I worked for The Walt Disney Company. Many days I ate lunch on the set of Mary Poppins. Yes, they still had part of the set up!

20. When I was 8 years old, taking a piano lesson in a wealthy section of a suburb of L.A., my 85 year old piano teacher and I were held up at gunpoint. My piano teacher had balls the size of grapefruits - she slammed the door in the gunman's face.

19. I can trace my ancestry back to the following countries: Germany, Ireland, Wales, England, Canada.

18.One of the most erotic places I feel a guy can kiss me is the inside of my hand. Don't ask. I had a boyfriend who did this once and wow!

17. I have been friends with my best friend for 33 years. When we first met, we hated each other on sight, with a passion and neither of us can remember why.

16. Among my other neuroses is my intense need to sit by the window in an airplane. Honestly, for some reason, it calms me down to be able to see the ground at all times. If I have to sit away from the window, I get really nervous. No, I don't think I'm keeping the plane up by looking at the ground. ;)

15. My great-grandfather was born in Madeburg, Germany and was a well known firgure throughout Europe. At 20 he was commissioned by King Leopold of Belgium to explore the unknown African Congo. He was also an artist and sculptor, and painted portraits of Eleanor Roosevelt and Charles Lindbergh. He had an exhibition of his most famous works at the San Diego Museum of Art. His wife, Aimee Souvee, was French Canadian. I don't know exactly when they emigrated to the U.S.

14. My favorite poet is T.S. Eliot, my favourite poem is "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, my favourite movie is Blade Runner, my favourite band is The Church, my favourite singers are Steve Kilbey and Frank Sinatra, my favourite artist is Caravaggio, my favourite Classical music piece is Beethoven's 9th Symphony/Schiller's Ode to Joy, my favourite movie director is Martin Scorsese, my favourite swear word is 'fuck', my favourite pastime is reading, my favourite animal is the cat (surprise), my favourite book is impossible to choose but it would be a toss up between The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye and The Heart of Darkness.

13. Aside from being an art history teacher, I wanted to be two things in life: an actor and a detective. I could never make it through the police academy to become a detective, but this explains my obsession with true crime, forensics and other assorted morbid interests most people find repulsive. I like looking at crime scenes - they're just mysteries to be solved.

12. I have the thickest hair of anyone on the planet. Honestly, if I had a dollar for every stylist who told me I had thick hair, I'd be a rich, rich lady.

11. My favourite city in the world so far is still New York, with London coming in a close second.

10. I have never had a 'white' Christmas. I really want to experience snow at Christmas for once in my life.

9. I have visited two celebrity graves in my life: Elvis's grave at Graceland when I was 12, and Frank Sinatra's grave in Palm Desert about 4 years ago. I so regret I never got to see Sinatra in concert.

8. The most important things I've done with my life to this date are: teaching my students, both college and elementary school, and working with survivors of suicide.

7. Of all the friends I've lost or left over the years, the one I think about the most is Heather.

6. I cry more easily than anyone I know and probably cry at least once a week. Since I started this f-ing Program, I cry a LOT now. ;)

5. I am obsessed with bedding. Seriously. I have a sad fixation on high-thread count sheets. I bought 1000 thread count sheets and now everything else feels like sandpaper! I have about 8 pillows, a down comforter, a quilt, about 10 sheet sets, and various blankets. I have an expensive pillow-top mattress and I'm always looking to make my bed more comfortable. It's kind of sick.

4. I love hotels. Really, really, really nice hotels. I've been fortunate enough to stay in several 5 star hotels in my life. Once I sent my laundry out in a hotel in Vancouver, and my t-shirts came back wrapped in tissue paper and gold ribbon in white boxes. I just stood there and said "Oh my god, this is how rich people live." Extremely nice hotels are a weakness for me.

3. I've had plastic surgery, I've been in therapy, I lived in Malibu, worked in the entertainment industry. On the surface, this doesn't really look good.

2. My most romantic fantasty is to go to the Maldives, or Fiji, and be able to stay in one of those obscenely expensive villas where you have your own private pool right by the ocean, and you can swim in the warm waters under a full moon and stars, at night, stark naked. The rest of this fantasy is private, but suffice to say, Daniel Craig is somewhat involved.

1. I hate sushi and I won't apologise for it! You raw fish eating people are all freaks!



Photo: #2 on my list - the Maldives. Ahhhhh....maybe someday.

Strike This Motherfuckers

Well pardon my French, especially as a teacher. But I keep hearing more and more about a strike - a strike that teachers will vote on next month, a strike where they will walk out the very month we are supposed to start student teaching. How massively this will affect us, our schedules, our potential to get jobs, interviews...knows no bounds.

But beyond my own selfish reasons for not wanting the strike, I am so sick of this useless union. I pretty much ranted about it in another blog so I won't repeat myself. I've been talked to a couple of my friends in the cohort and I am utterly stunned...stunned at how naive I can still be. That I thought somehow, someway this semester would be easier than last semester...hahahaa!

The district has offered a 3% pay raise, retroactive to last July, full health benefits and smaller class sizes. Sounds pretty decent. But no. The teachers want a 9% pay raise and they're going to walk out on the kids, on us, on everyone for it. And they'll walk back in with maybe 5 or 6% if they're lucky and they will have fucked everyone over for it and the union reps will get richer and the teachers still won't be able to buy a house here and the kids' grades will be screwed up and I really, really, really am thinking about shoving this credential in a box in June and going to work in administration, just selling the hell out for the money.

Disappearing

Yes, that's me I'm talking about - I'm slowly disappearing and praise GOD it is GREAT! Yesterday I went to the mall (ugh) and I stopped in at J. Jill. I haven't bought anything from J. Jill in eons. But I think I've probably lost somewhere in the range of 10-15 pounds and oh my GOD I actually fit into a MEDIUM sized blouse! The angels were singing and I didn't want to weep so badly whilst looking at my body in the dressing room. Why? Because I could see my old body coming back....very slowly, ok I'm not too toned, but I can see it in there! I'm so proud of myself. I always lose weight pretty fast when I want to - I'll hit a plateau at some point but I felt like Scarlett O' Hara yesterday as I walked out of the store with my new purchases and I wanted to yell "AS GOD IS MY WITNESS I WILL NEVER BE FAT AGAIN!" Really. I mean, I know it's not cool and all to rail against fat, but on my body, personally, I hate hate hate hate hate it and find it disgusting. My biggest hope? That my boobs shrink back down to their lovely 36C size. Praying to the Boob God, haha. I still have a LONG way to go...but just seeing a hint of what I used to be is enough to keep me from binging on anything. Truly, I feel lighter already and it's amazing.

I also managed somehow, with the help of my friend Peri, to start studying for the RICA test I have on February 10th. It's my LAST standardized test for the Program and it tests us on our ability to competently teach children to read. I am such a huge literacy advocate that studying for this isn't too painful. It's not calculus.

It rained today. I'm sure it'll still be freezing cold here tonight. California has lost a ton of money with the citrus industry. My mom's flowers died and her grass was covered in ice. I do not remember a time when it was so cold here. Personally, I like it. It's like an actual SEASON for once. Even though I generally find January and February desperately depressing, at least I know it's winter.

The bad news: I watched American Idol for the first time last night. Oh my god, it's like a train wreck you cannot stop watching. These tryouts are so embarrassing. I cringe and yet cannot turn the channel. I have hit a new TV low. Why doesn't Paula Abdul just come clean and tell people what she's on? Because clearly the woman is either on medication, taking street drugs or drinking. She is whacked out.

I am toying with the idea of going to London and the English countryside in late June. Or sometime after the Program ends. Who knows though. The strike could send us all into an entirely different schedule and then I will have to resort to serious violence. Ok, I'm kidding about that last part, but really.

I attended my first Buddhist meditation class Monday night. I really liked it. The whole point of me doing this is so I won't feel the need to commit acts of violence against the Idiots I am forced to work under and with. LOL! Ahhh, radical acceptance....letting go....

I have to go exercise and study. This is an entirely different post from my last one and don't ask me how I got motivated to do something -anything - because I really don't know. It could all end tomorrow and I could be back on the couch slipping into indifference. You never know.

Losing the Will....


...to live. Yes, I actually think I've had too much vacation now. I know, I know, when I was in The Program (I almost wrote Pogrom - wow) - I could.not.wait. to get on holiday as those across the pond and Down Under say. December 22, 2006 was my first official day of freedom. Holiday and family madness sucked up at least a week and a half of that. Then I did spend days, blessed days, catching up on sleep, reading, reading, reading. Reading everything - filling my head with more useless information but god I crave it for some crazy reason. Reading blogs I had to abandon because of so much homework; reading websites, news, hard news, soft news, entertainment news (Britney loses her panties and I lose my lunch), Saddam dies, the world shrugs, I read and read, old magazines, Time, Newsweek, events long since passed, old news, new news, Vanity Fair - oh it's like a book to get through that mag, The New Yorker, Psychology Today, stray magazines I bought in the heat of the "I've got to read this!" moment that have been slowing growing sleepy, quiet and tired under my table. I hardly knew they were there. I have books galore all over the apartment; I must be reading at least 4 books at the same time and actually, I will finish one of them. I really will. Right now my brain hurts and I don't want to look at words. Amazing.

But god I have gotten so lazy it's scaring me. I can't seem to write back emails I owe to people, even writing this blog is taking some kind of psychic energy out of me I don't feel I have. I wanted to write a whole different blog about memory - which hopefully I will - sooner, rather than later. Catz's blog today made me start thinking long and hard about my memory, what I fixate on in the past, and the beauty and curse of having a spectacularly visual and good memory (yeah, I'm talking about myself).

I have gotten my lazy ass up and done a few things. Went to the dentist to have the tiny chip in my tooth fixed and came out with almost new-looking front teeth - for a price. Ha. I decided to do the big 'winter cleaning and organising' fest. Gave bags of clothes to the Goodwill; I tossed so much crap I didn't even know I had, organised the rest into neat little piles of: will use soon, need now, may use in the future, and the biggest pile of all: still psychologically cannot let go of some crap. That's a big pile. It's all of it isn't it, really? I saw Suzanne Somers (sp?) on the television after her house burned down in Malibu. Say what you will about celebrities - but that was her house, and all her worldly posessions were in it...and she looked so stunned, so shocked and my heart went out to her. How and why do we get so attached to mere things... I don't know...it's like building a little safety nest I suppose. And yet some people have no things they care about. Naturally I would grab my cats and myself first in an emergency but I do think of all the pictures I have that would be lost - pictures of my dad, now almost 11 years gone, pictures that can't be replaced. GOD I have got to make the copies and put the originals somewhere safe. Why do I put off doing things like this? So my things I would not want to lose...my books, and pictures and journals and little things people have given me. Sentiment is at the root of it all I'm sure. If I just didn't give a shit...

Then I decided in addition to losing the crap I needed to lose major weight; I cleaned out all the cupboards - have started over from scratch which I've actually never really done, despite saying I'm starting over. Sure, I've tried to diet and diets fail. This is just slowly changing my eating habits. And my eating habits had begun to appall even me and I've never been the queen of healthy eating. Pushing 40 might do that to you - time to shape up or ship out. Outta time baby. 30 was a warning bell - you ignored it and now the Moment has come. You ain't gettin' out of this one alive. Oh shit, you're right! Goddamn, I'm not. I'm really fucking not. I'm not gonna be young forever. I'm not going to be the 25 year old I am in my head. Little strange things are happening to my body. I'm really gonna die someday? But does anyone really comprehend THAT one? So I always had a fairly thin, nice figure - not model thing - I have boobs and look like a woman, not a 12 year old boy - but man I rocked it once in my early 20's with my body for a while. Those were good times. I had youth and a great metabolism and health on my side. Now...of course the fucking ominpresent fatigue and pain of fms, the gift that just keeps on giving, doesn't help. In fact it keeps me constantly screwed up but I just have to live with it. It ain't going away. I don't know that the Beast and I have made any peace at all on a daily basis - well, maybe some...but over the long haul, the last 13 years, I've acquiesced, kicking and screaming the entire way. But even I know I can't really win this one. I decided I didn't have to let it take over my entire being however and turn me into the Pillsbury Dough Boy's friggin' wife. I really went to hell in a handbasket last semester eating everything in sight. I can only blame the medication for starting my weight gain 2 1/2 years ago. I've kept it going. Me and Oprah. We've got food issues, haha. Yep, I think it's safe to say I'm never gonna do hard drugs and Grey Goose just isn't as comforting as an entire bag of chips. What can I say? I guess it took a looming big birthday to shake me to my to my senses and make me realise if I eat for every screwed up emotion I can't or don't want to deal with I'm gonna have to rent another apartment for myself. Oh and don't think my ego hasn't been blown to hell. *I* remember the girl with the rockin' bod, the long legs, the size 6 mini-skirts. Well, reality says I'll never be a size 6 again but really, I can still get back to a pretty decent body -and more importantly, a healthy body.

Anyway, so from December 28 to this moment I've eaten healthier than I ever have in my life! yay! I've had veggies with practically every dinner! I've had fruit, whole grains, lean chicken and fish! Do I feel renewed with loads of energy! No. Sorry. In fact I've had a shit few days here with The Beast - sometimes I think it's easier to deal with the pain when I'm in class. I can't focus on it so much. I'm sure the good eating will help in time. At least it helps my overall healthy, if not my chronic pain directly.

Which brings me back to....I'm doing so little on this extended vacation that I swear I'm just going to disappear into the couch one day. Maybe they're be a little puddle of me left somewhere. I'm still reading, but less. I'm watching old movies late, late at night. Jesus, I didn't go to sleep until 5am this morning. My sleeping is officially fucked up. I've been sucked into the morass of cable TV showing my past at 2:30am and like some junkie, I can't turn it off. I just sit and stare and suck it all in.

I need to go back to school. As much as it pains me to say it, and I am not looking forward to the idiocy of the morons running the Program, I need to get back on a schedule. I get off of my routine for too long, the Beast takes over, the Melancholy finds me, and it's woe-is-me for days on end. I start to not even get dressed some days. I wander the apartment in depressed haze. I uguess I really pissed off my *friends* when I was busy trying to get my credential last semester because they don't seem interested in seeing me now or doing anything. Fuck 'em. I've kind of had it with people. I'm on a real anti-people mood now. A 'my friends can suck it' kind of mood. LOL! How to win friends and influence people. Well, we all know I've never exactly been queen of the ball, or belle of the ball or however the hell you say it. Miss Congeniality. Not.

This semester we have 6 weeks of classes and then we're supposed to do 9 weeks of full-day teaching; it's our classroom student teaching.

Oh but I forgot to mention the monkey wrench - because there's always one in there somewhere. The teachers are about to strike. In March. Exactly at the same time we're supposed to student teach. Can you believe this timing? I've got no respect for the union - pussies and fat cats. Teachers have had a union for HOW LONG????? And they fucking fight for crumbs. Teachers still make shit salaries but union reps and school board members and superintendents are paid quite well - shit, our new superintendent is getting $300,000 a year, a a car, a house, benefits - and what's he gonna do for LAUSD? What the hell good is the union doing?? Why haven't they gotten teachers the money they deserve? I have no sympathy for them. Fuck the union - they've failed in my eyes. I was forced to join the union when I taught college - and I mean forced. I HAD to pay union dues - it wasn't a choice. Why do teachers need a union anyway? Why can't we be considered white collar professionals like doctors or lawyers? Why the victim mentality? Oh poor us, poor teachers. I'm so sick of it.

So go strike for your 5 % raise or your extra $50 for faculty meanings but it's all meaningless to me. I know what I'm walking into. Just pull your shit together by March so I can teach and do what I love to do. And because as great as vacations are, I don't need another 5 weeks off.

Photo: Eric Bana - for no reason other than he's hot as hell. This photo is from the upcoming film "Lucky You" - I saw a trailer for this last Friday and holy shit, is this guy smoking or what? Man, I missed it entirely in "Munich." Surprised by lust; it's always fun.