Sweet Lethargy

(Note: This is meant to be a response to Blitzken’s poem Sweet Apathy)

I was going to use the toilet,
But I’m peeing in a bucket.
I was going to write this poem,
But then I figured, fuck it.

WOTD: rapture

With thanks to Cissi for the idea…

Apparently, the world is supposed to end tomorrow so I thought this might be a good time to discuss our two options leading up to the pending apocalypse.

1. The rapture option.

This entails being physically removed from the earth in the midst of the turmoil of Judgement Day and sort of beamed up to heaven. Recommended for those most eager to meet Jesus in person. This would mean repenting our sins or something.

2. The “completely over-the-top, extravagant orgy of total hedonistic abandon” option.

No further explanation needed. This was Mark Base’s idea and that’s good enough for me.

Until next time. If there is a next time.

Aw shucks…

I was just awarded the Celebrate Poet of Summer in 2011 Award for my poem “A Warning” that I submitted to the Promising Poets’ Poetry Cafe website. About 100 other poets also won the same award, but having my work read and awarded by a group of other extraordinarily gifted poets is a very good feeling, indeed. I’d even say it’s an awesome feeling.

Yay, me!

WOTD: raphanizein

Here’s another word off the request line, brought to you by Poet Master Blitzken. Today’s word is a noun that I defy any of you to copy and paste into Google and search for images.

On second thought, that might not be a very good idea.

Rhaphanidosis, you see, is the practice of inserting the large roots of plants into the anus. This is not for sexual/bondage purposes. During the 4th and 5th centuries B.C. in Ancient Greece it was a common punishment for adultery. Apparently, they took adultery REALLY seriously back then. Getting a large horseradish root shoved up your ass sounds a bit worse than having to wear a scarlet letter A on your chest for the rest of your life.

This word isn’t used very often these days, but one could perhaps use it to describe a situation that feels (hopefully metaphorically) kind of like having something large and bulbous inserted into your backside in the most painfully unwelcome way.

Oh man, watching that movie was a raphanizeinian experience. (Baffle your friends.)

Incidentally, raphanizein wasn’t the only punishment for adultery back then. Sodomy by mullet fish was also common. And both the large radish and the fish would eventually run you through. Imagine having to choose between the two. Like having to choose between death by plague or cholera?

*shudders*

Turn and face the strain…

I just got some rather unsettling news at work which might affect me a great deal. The utterly capable and lovely woman whom I admire and respect and consider to be the best boss I’ve ever had, just announced that she’s resigning. This will be her last year as Head Mistress/principal of the school. She’s taken a job at an advertising and media company, which is apparently her field of expertise and what she studied in school. I’m not sure how she ended up becoming a school administrator but she’s been doing that job excellently for the last six years.

This is compounded by the fact that both of our assistant principals will soon be unavailable. One of them recently adopted a little girl and left for a year’s leave of absence a few months ago. The wife of the other one is having a baby in August, so he too will be taking some paternity leave. And we’re all left wondering who’s going to run the ship.

Once the initial shock wore off I began to realize that one of the people chosen to fill the gap will most likely be me. They’ve been grooming me for administrative work for the last three months. About a month before Maria left for her maternity leave I started working in the front office one day a week. It has since increased to three days a week and basically whenever I’m needed. It’s typical office work: answering the phone, taking messages, sending emails, helping students with administrative needs, signing for packages, etc. I’ve done this kind work before and I enjoy it, plus I’m very organized and have a great phone voice.

I don’t think they’d ask me to step in and become the Head Mistress/Principal (rektor in Swedish), but I have a feeling they’ll ask me to become an assistant principal. I’m good at organizing and running projects, but the possibility of becoming a school administrator has never occurred to me. I’ve always been a teacher and I’ve always for the most part hated school administrators and I’m not sure if I really want to become one.

This promotion would mean an increase in hours and responsibility, as well as a substantial raise. Would it be worth it, though? I really love being a teacher. Just a teacher. Both of our assistant principals are also teachers, though, so I know I’d still have lessons. This would also mean I would have to get really good at Swedish really fast.

Anyway, no one’s mentioned anything about who is taking over for whom yet, but there’s supposed to be a meeting about it tomorrow afternoon. I’ll sure be sorry to see my boss go. I think she just got sick of working under the dreaded Big Boss. Of course this means that if they try to kick me upstairs then I’ll be working under him, although I won’t see him everyday since he lives and works in Stockholm.

Maybe I shouldn’t be counting my chickens before they hatch, but during my recent employee evaluation the Big Boss said they wanted to give me a full time contract and increase my responsibility even more next year.

So that’s that.

Almost Gone

Look through my window… See how the sunlight sparkles...On the breezy bay.

When last we met,
You were a shadow.
A dream…
A ghost from long ago.
Like the tune to a forgotten song,
You’re still here,
But almost gone.
I don’t think you know I’m here.
You are lost…
About to disappear.
Where you’ve gone,
I know not where,
But, surely you must still be in there.
Oh, daddy…
Do you know it’s me?
When you look,
What do you see?
Do you see me looking at you?
The little girl,
Who still loves you…

Update: I’ve just been awarded the Perfect Poet Award from the Poet’s Poetry Cafe website. This poem was so personal, and so painful for me to read and to write. I’m quite overcome.

Not everyone is a winner, you know…

Author’s Note: This is something I wrote a little under a year ago. It was originally posted as a note on Facebook and then as a post on my personal blog.

One of my former English-teaching jobs involved working with small children. They were very little (most under the age of five) so the job primarily consisted of playing games and singing songs in English. Like any job there were good and bad things about it. The kids were mostly very sweet and cute. However, I had a colleague who drove me nuts. We used to play these little games with the kids and naturally there would be one winner, which is the point of playing any game, right?

Despite this universal truth, she would always smile at them and say, “That’s okay. Everyone’s a winner!” This always bothered me because there was in fact only one winner. He won because he was the best. Saying that everyone’s a winner totally diminishes the achievement of the kid who actually won the game. It’s unrealistic, dishonest and unfair, and it sets kids up for disappointment later on in life.

It used to be when a child did poorly in school her parents would go straight to her and say, “These grades are terrible!” Nowadays, when a child does poorly in school her parents go straight to her teacher and say, “These grades are terrible!”

Not that there aren’t any bad teachers. Of course there are, just as there are bad examples from every profession. However, I wonder if it ever occurred to the parents that maybe their kid is just a bad student. I know a thing or two about being a bad student because I used to be one. Then again, I had very low self-esteem, so when I got bad grades I assumed it was because I (and not my teacher) was useless. No amount of attempted bribery or bolstering of my nonexistent self-esteem was going to improve my performance in school.

Then one day I realized that I’d better get off my ass and get some decent grades, so that’s what I did. At first I did it mainly to keep my parents from yelling at me, but after a while I figured out that I was actually a good student and I did it for me.

While I strongly believe in encouraging young people to do the best they can, I also believe that it’s ultimately up to them. They choose whether to do well or bad in school, and while we can encourage or even intimidate, their performance in school is their responsibility. The young people of today aren’t being taught self-reliance and accountability. Many of them are little narcissists who have been led to believe they are “special” and therefore entitled to “the best.”

However, we seem to have forgotten to tell them about having to work really hard in order to get it, about taking charge of their own lives, about having to get it themselves if they really want it, and about them not being entitled to anything.

Remember that if everyone is a winner that means that everyone is also a loser.

WOTD: needs

Today’s word is one of those words that has multiple linguistic functions.

It could be an adverb that is defined as, “of necessity, usually preceded by the word must.”

For example: “It must needs be so.” Which to me sounds very Shakespearean or even biblical.

It could also be a transitive verb, which is a verb that requires both a subject and an object:

“She needs money.”

Or indeed, it could be a plural noun described as what is required or needed:

“What are the needs of third world countries?”

Okay, that’s enough boring grammar stuff. I’m sure most of you are familiar with the “(Your first name here) needs…” game, and some of you might have done yours and posted it on Facebook. The instructions are very simple. All you need to do is go to Google or any search engine of your choice and type in your first name plus the word “needs” in the search field. Then press enter and write down the first ten hits you get, no matter how weird or stupid they are.

I’ll go first:

1. Gwen NEEDS to sign! (Sign what, I’m not really sure but it’s REALLY important that I sign it.)

2. Gwen needs to get Palin back on topic. (As long as it’s Michael Palin.)

3. Gwen needs to step down. (Difficult as I have a phobia of walking down stairs.)

4. Gwen needs no helmet…Ba! (For I am invulnerable…)

5. Gwen needs 5 man strat run. (Um…actually I need a nerd to explain this one as it’s related to WoW.)

6. Gwen needs to fire herself as her stylist. (If I do then does this mean I’ll have to pay unemployment benefits to myself?)

7. Gwen needs a doctor. (Preferably a rich well-built single doctor.)

8. Gwen needs an apartment. (I’m house broken. Can’t say the same for my 25 cats.)

9. Gwen needs to chill out a little. (Yeah, right. Chill this out, bitches!)

10. Gwen needs a hero. (He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight…)

WOTD: cinnamon, according to the Urban Dictionary

I love the Urban Dictionary. I fucking love it. Type in even the most mundane word you can think of and it will produce several surprising “definitions” you never would have thought of in a million years. I typed in the word cinnamon because I was looking at the furry lump lying on the bed that’s named Cinnamon. There’s no way this word is going to be in there, I thought. Boy, was I wrong.

There are actually seven definitions for the word cinnamon. The first one is my favorite:

1. Cinnamon is something difficult to say when drunk.

These are also difficult to say when drunk:
Thanks, but I don’t want to have sex.
Good evening, officer. Isn’t it lovely out tonight?
Nope, no more beer for me….

Cinnanannomm …..Cinomon …Ciniman …uhhh!i give up, gimme another beer!

I also really love the third definition:

3. The equivalent to a ginger, just more attractive and usually has a soul. Commonly found in the North Eastern part of the United States and Western Canada. Freckles are prominent and usually in large numbers. Some cinnamons are found wearing obscene clothing, beware. Large families are usually together in one area of the country of this breed.

Differences between the two are skin tones, which are usually a shade darker than most gingers and the cinnamons are more aesthetically pleasing,

“Yo man, did you see that slamming ginger over there with her tits hanging out?!”

“Yeah I did man but that’s no ginger! It’s a cinnamon! You don’t find banging gingers anywhere these days!”

Apparently, cinnamon also means roughly same thing as cherry (not the sexual meaning):