Utterly disgusting…

…and disgraceful.

Sorry about the pause in the WOTD posts. They’ll resume shortly. I do have one or two things to say about what can only be described as completely apathetic incompetence. Tomorrow is graduation day at my school so today I’ve been really involved in getting everything set up and ready. For the 68 graduating students we set up two big long tables with nice festive table cloths, balloons and streamers. We hung nautical signal flags over them, and Douglas hung up some more flags on the walls, for Germany, Ireland, France, Sweden, and the UK, to emphasize the international aspect of our school.

(But we do have two teachers from the States and one from Bolivia, but neither North nor South America will be represented by their countries’ respective flags. Hmm…must do something about that for next year.)

The students will be served a buffet lunch tomorrow and we’ve borrowed the dishes, cups, and utensils from the cafeteria downstairs. They were delivered around four in the afternoon and right away I noticed that the plates didn’t look very clean. I picked up one plate and noticed several little black specks on it that turned out to be dead fruit flies.Then I found another plate that had a huge streak of yellow grease on it. What the fuck? Did they send us their dirty plates by mistake (or not)? Further inspection of the remainder of the plates revealed more dead bugs, more grease, and various bits of dried food that hadn’t come off. This was totally unacceptable. I still haven’t looked at the cups and utensils. I’m kind of afraid to.

Anyway, by this time the cafeteria was closed so it was too late to send the stuff back and get clean replacements.One of my colleagues (who must be as blind as a fucking bat) had already begun putting the plates on the table, so I told him to stop and gather them all up again. I said we’re going to have to wash every single one of these plates and possibly all the cups and utensils. He wasn’t too happy to hear that.

But what choice do we have? I wouldn’t serve a dog food on one of those plates.

By the way, the same cafeteria that provided the dirty plates will also be providing tomorrow’s food. Ugh…

SLEEP

I guess this is like a little rant, on the topic of sleep. We all know how important it is, I think, and yet so many people seem to have trouble with it. There are studies galore about how sleep deprivation affects us. To name but a few:
aching muscles, confusion, memory lapses or loss, depression, hallucinations, hand tremors, headaches, bloodshot eyes, periorbital puffiness, commonly known as “bags under eyes” or eye bags, increased blood pressure, increased stress hormone levels, increased risk of diabetes, increased risk of fibromyalgia, irritability, nystagmus (rapid involuntary rhythmic eye movement), obesity, temper tantrums in children (probably in adults as well), yawning
(more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_deprivation )
So often I hear from friends, either directly, or via FB status, that they have trouble sleeping to varying degrees, or have insomnia. My first reaction is always to want to say all kinds of comforting things like of course you can sleep, and I know you can make yourself sleep, and blah blah blah fucking blah, but the truth is I very very rarely have trouble sleeping, and I am routinely shocked, saddened, and appalled at the number of people who do so. It is truly truly disturbing. Sleep is so so so so so important. We cheat ourselves in so many ways by underestimating it. In our modern times it has often been a symbol of pride “oh I can get by on 3 hours” much the same as the American CEO who takes 2 weeks vacation for all 50 working years of his life, and is never ever sick. Sleep. Will yourself. Do everything possible. Turn everything off. Relax. Showers. No caffeine. Meditate. Deep breath. Do whatever it fucking takes. Drugs and alcohol if necessary. But sleep. Sleep deep, and well and feel the flights of angels whisk you off to the nether nether where the ethereal mix of fantasy and reality leave you wondering where you were once you awake and what was real and what was not.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!

Whew…that’s better. I apologize for that outburst.

But they’re driving me crazy! My students are driving me crazy and my colleagues are driving me crazy. I share the mentorship of a class with a one particularly crazy-inducing colleague. The students always go to her because they know she’ll always tell them what they want to hear. She keeps making promises to them that the school can’t keep.

Then I have to be the bad guy:

Students: “But Gunnel said we could…”

Me: “Yes, I know. I know that’s what she said. But unfortunately we just can’t do it”

Students: “But..but…she told us that…”‘

Me: *sigh* “Yes, I know she did. But I’m afraid it’s just not possible..”

Then they go away pouting. I’m at the end of my tether. I just want them all to go away and leave me the fuck alone.

This may not be a very good quality in an assistant principal…

Edited to add:

Weight a Minute

She’s fit and full of energy,
Weighs 20 kilos less than me,
And yet she says she’s fat.
I’m not sure how to take that.

If she is fat then that must mean,
I’m obese and morbidly obscene.

And she likes to casually mention,
When she has your full attention,
How she went the whole day without food.
“All I’ve had is half a grapefruit.”

She’s showing off her deprivation.
So proud of her starvation.

I’m just fine and normal where I’m at,
But in thin-obsessed LA, I’m fat.
It’s hard to see them both obsessing,
Counting calories and guessing.

And though they don’t directly attack,
They do talk a lot behind my back.

And I know this to be true.
They just don’t know what to do.
Don’t understand and can’t relate,
To someone not trying to lose weight.

How could anyone possibly,
Be so fat, and yet so happy?

Ned Ludd’s Revenge

I often refer to myself as a Luddite, but I’m mostly kidding. Although I have an affinity for writing with pen and paper, old tube-powered guitar amps and recording on reel-to reel tape machines, I still maintain a friendly relationship with technology. I couldn’t live without my iPod, I was happy as a kid on Christmas morning to finally get a ridiculously powerful digital audio console at work, and I consider the internet to be pretty much the best invention in human history. I grok tech. Still, there are times when the old ways just work best.

I was driving to my office the other day, and heard a song on the local college station that blew me away. I glanced at the readout on my stereo and discovered it was “Saying Goodbye” by a band called The Greenhornes. A few minutes later at my desk, I looked them up and listened to some other tracks- great stuff. I decided to buy the album, so I opened iTunes and found it within seconds.

Those of you who grew up before the internet can appreciate how awesome this is- back in the Bad Old Days this process would have taken days or weeks. First you either get to a phone (no cell phones back then) and call the DJ, or wait for them to back announce (this isn’t foolproof either- the first time I heard the Pixies I thought they were called The Laughing Academy due to a back announcing miscount). Then you had to drive to a record store that stocked “new” music besides Ratt and Whitesnake and hope they had what you were looking for. There used to be records that took me months (in some cases years) to find. Oh, and forget previewing the other tracks on the record unless you knew someone who already had it. There are those who argue that the modern instant gratification model devalues music and our relationship to it, and they have a point. At that moment though, I was just psyched to hear the album mere minutes after discovering the band.

This is where things start to go awry. For some reason, my iTunes account was screwed up and I couldn’t access it. After about half an hour of screwing around I figured fuck it, I tried, and began searching torrent sites for free downloads. Within a minute or two I located a torrent titled “GREENHORNES DISCOGRAPHY” that contained an impressive collection of the band’s albums, EPs, singles and compilation tracks. However, it was a couple years old and didn’t have the album I was looking for in it. I considered simply recording the three songs (including “Saying Goodbye”) off the band’s music player on their website, but I really wanted the whole album.

Technology had failed me, so I reverted to old school methodology. A quick check of the internets revealed that there was still a brick and mortar record store near the college, so I decided it was a good time to load up the office recycling and take it to the recycling center (which, conveniently, is near NCSU). Half an hour later after dumping a shitload of cardboard and soda cans I entered Schoolkids Records for the first time in about ten years. The current location had been a pawn shop back when I used to troll Hillsborough Street looking for obscure indie records and cheap vinyl, but the gig flyers and hipster movie posters looked the same as ever. Long rows of vinyl record bins were obviously a thing of the past, but I was dismayed to find that the CD racks were thinner than I remembered and a large chunk of the floorspace was taken up with DVDs, magazines and T-shirts. I made my way to the “G” section, quickly located my prize, then stood at the counter for a few minutes trying to flag down the pachouli-drenched clerk.

“Uh, can I help you?” he finally asked with the magical mixture of indifference and disdain that only a clerk at a college record store can muster.

“Well I was gonna buy this, but I can just shoplift it if it’s easier for you” I relied with the dripping sarcasm only a middle-aged asshole can truly master.

I paid $5 more than the download would have cost me, had to spend time and my boss’ gas money and now have another CD to add to my unmanageable mountain of media, but dammit, I spent the rest of the day rocking out to the fucking Greenhornes. Mission Accomplished.

Dear Dominique Strauss-Kahn:

Dear Mr.Dominique Strauss-Khan:
Don’t go trying anything on,
Not sure if you’re guilty or not,
But we’ll find out when you’re on the spot,
IMF hands are dirty enough,
Without getting tangled in your sordid stuff,
Thought they were ugly as ugly as can get,
Burdening lands with unsupportable debt,
Turns out keeping bankers and business in beds,
Left a sense of power that inflated your heads,
But now you’ve time to think while sitting in jail,
Since an American judge wisely denied your bail,
The case will unfold, and we’ll soon get to see,
Since no doubt we’ll be watching on tv,
Whether the way that you think the game’s usually played,
Will get you off the hook with a hotel room maid.

…sick mommy vs sick daddy

Alternatively, sick woman vs sick man.

Yes. Go ahead and roll your eyes for this is yet another post about the superiority and strength of the weaker sex – the woman. You know, those of us who behave irrationally because our hormones make us act like a rabid dog. The woman. The crier.

Here is a picture of my daily existence:

For those of you not overly familiar with all things spine related, this is a basic x-ray of my spine. Or what is left of my spine. Each day is a joyous exercise in spasms, sciatica and mind-crushing pain. I’m truly fortunate that I am currently able to postpone the inevitable ALIF surgery. While I may feel older than dirt, I’m a little too young for such drastic measures.

On a good day, I have back pain. On a not-so-good day, I have the back pain and whatever ailment is ravaging my body. Be it a cold, dengue fever, malaria, sinusitis, ears that won’t work or a really angry menstrual cycle, I’m left to manage it. Sometimes, I get to do all of this while my husband is travelling, leaving me to care for the Milkfaced toddler by my bad self. Quite the conundrum when your orthopaedic surgeon strongly advises against lifting anything heavier than five pounds.

This is really hard work when you’re suffering from the above *and* you are stuck dragging around that cross and having a crown of thorns poking your scalp. Alas, I am woman. I will do. Then I will spend your money out of spite and frustration.

Men, on the other hand, take an entirely different approach to illness. THE WORLD GRINDS TO A FUCKING HALT. A hangnail may require an amputation. A runny nose and a fever requires hospitalization in a plastic bubble with an IV. A stomach bug – oh just get the fuck out of the way. The man is vomiting, for fuck’s sake. Food is coming out of the wrong orifice!!! This is a horrible fate and means death must be near (let’s completely overlook the first trimester of pregnancy when all the mommy does is spew).

Dock falls ill two or three times a year. Most of the time it’s a nasty cold or a headache (hey – I never said I was easy to live with). Unfortunately for all of Raleigh, this time he has the pukes. Milky and I have both had the pukes this week so it’s a safe assumption that he caught whatever bug we had been hosting and that he hasn’t been poisoned by some decaying morsel that he would sooner eat than throw out.

A sick Dock is a marginally useless Dock. I have seen this throughout the years but nothing quite like seeing a pancake in the sink. I presume that my husband was far too weak to make the three steps to the garbage bin and press down on the lever that opens the lid. Profuse vomiting can render the strongest man to the feeblest 90 year old woman.

This post isn’t meant as an indictment. Dock is genuinely ill and I do feel (somewhat) horribly for him. My intent is to paint a picture of the male patient and how poorly they handle being sick. The Earth needs to freeze in its orbit until male feels better. It’s just the way it’s supposed to be.

Back at the ranch, the woman with the deteriorating spine will somehow manage to get the laundry done, shower and unclog the kitchen sink (I don’t believe that is pancake related). Then she will manage to wrestle herself onto the sofa, cross, crown of thorns and all and ponder the injustices of the world.

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.

These Allergies!

These allergies! These allergies!
All I do is sneeze and sneeze.
And cough and itch and loudly wheeze.
For some relief I’m begging, please!

I’ve seen the doctor and received,
Some medicine and I believed,
That very soon I’d feel relieved.
Alas, I think I’ve been deceived.

These pills don’t seem to do a thing.
My eyes and nose are still running.
I’m still coughing and still sneezing,
Still itching and still wheezing.

They make me feel so drowsy,
That I’m stumbling and clumsy.
But I’m so stoned and woozy
That forget I’m feeling lousy.

So, for some relief I’m begging, please!
From these allergies! These allergies!
All I do is cough and wheeze,
And…
Wait..I feel another sneeze.

I need a technological miracle…

I’m slightly inundated.

Apparently, I’m supposed to be in three places at once this afternoon so I’d appreciate any advice or instructions on how to open a rift in the space-time continuum. I need to arrange this for the hour of 16:00 GMT+1 when I’m supposed to be teaching a lesson, offering extra help and tutoring for ninth graders and attending a staff meeting.

I also have a stack of national exams that keeps increasing in size. Right now I have about a hundred exams to grade, but by the end of this week it will have increased to 300. The deadline for getting all these exams graded is the 22nd, but I also have a full time teaching schedule to maintain. Therefore, additionally I’ll need further instructions on how to stop time for at least a week in order to get this done on time.

If you cannot offer me any assistance in breaking the laws of physics then some booze will be greatly appreciated.

‘kthanksbai