Life...by Lusie

Despite the fact that the property management people called me to tell me that the people who own the house want to sell it (good luck in this market) which means we will now have people parading through our house and will possibly have to move...

Despite the fact that the children I teach are making me want to drive a rusty nail through my eye because there are only 22 days left in the year and there is no curriculum in the reading class I teach....

Despite the fact that I have three cats in my house, and the one that loves me best is a bully to the one that is the most defenseless and I feel like crap about that...

I am most gloriously happy on this day.

Because I HAVE A NEW JOB NEXT YEAR!!!

IN A NEW COUNTY!!!!

Oh yes!

Teaching...............ENGLISH! 

No longer will I be stuck in the most #$%&^ up county in our part of the state.  Praise the lord.

No longer will I be teaching out of field.  Praise the lord.  When I interviewed for the job, I told the principal I was teaching out of field, and I said to him, "I cannot teach reading, as I would be out of field and that would get me fired, which is why I am leaving my other county, who put me out of field, when I am certified to teach in English, not Reading."  He looked at me like I waa an alien and said, "Why in the WORlD would anyone put a fully certified ENGLISH teacher in a READING position?"

He called me TODAY.  At home.  On a Saturday.  To congratulate me.  To welcome me.  To reassure me that he was hiring me.  To tell me to put in my resignation at my current job.  To ASK me what I would like to teach next year.

And, oh yea, TO TELL ME I WOULD KNOW WHAT I WAS TEACHING BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR.

So, some things in my life may not be going all that well right now...

but about this, I am most gloriously happy. 

Free at last.

The problem with blogging is this:

People claim they want you to be honest.

They don't.

People claim you can be yourself and say what you feel.

They are lying.

People claim they can read something and be objective about it, because if it is you expressing your honest feelings in your own forum.

They can't.

If you post it, it is fair game.  If you write it, you are wrong.

So why do it?

I am honestly, honestly, not sure why I do it anymore.

I don't know about anyone else, but I used to enjoy blogging because it gave me a place to say the things I needed to say.

I did not have to have an audience for them...but I did not mind having one.

If people made comments, it was okay with me.

But then, it was like blogging got too personal.  Like the people in your most intimate circle had to read your blog to know what you were thinking.

Hang on a sec.

Let's think this through.

I am your friend.  We have a relationship.  If you must read a blog to understand my innermost feelings, then I am pretty sure we need to sit down and take another look at the word "friend."  Perhaps we are just acquaintances.  Okay, this is different if you don't live near me or see me often, I agree.  But if we see each other regularly, and I need you to know how I feel, I can call you and tell you.

So here is my question:

Should I, for the sake of the people I love and care for, write only  "White bread, non-offensive namby pamby bullshit" on my blog so they do not become offended with me?  Should I be someone I am not, when in reality, the reason I am friends with most of the people I love is because of who I am and because of who they are?  Should I then change the person I am to become the person who says only what they want to hear?

or:

Should I block the people I love and care for from my blog so they can never see any of the entries that might offend them?  That would be nice.  Let's wrap them in cotton wool and protect them from all honesty and hurt feelings (even if they have not protected me).  And, let's allow everyone else to see the blog in question so only the person in question is out of the loop?  Or, am I required to block anyone who might also know that person? Should I make up fake names and/or states and stuff?  Because this is getting complicated.

If this is what must happen, I think we should complete the cycle.

We have to take the "White bread, non-offensive namby pamby bullshit" and apply it to life.  We can never say anything in real life to hurt anyone's feelings.

This way, they won't want to reply to it in a blog.

In a perfect world, this would be possible.

But unless I miss my guess, we are more dystopia than utopia.

So until the day that we are living a white bread non offensive namby pamby life, if you intend to read my blog, I am going to need you to send me a private message telling me if you want to read any of the following:

A.  Messages about you

B.  Messages about people who know you

C.  Messages about people you like

D.  Messages about people you don't like

E.  Messages about things you like (such as music, clothing, politics, or the place where you live)

F.  Messages about things you don't like  (such as music, clothing, politics, or the place where you live)

Here's the thing:  if I block A-F...here is what you get:

Messages about my work (possibly, as you may know some of those people and/or like/dislike them)

Messages about my family (possibly, as you may know some of those people and/or like/dislike them)

Messages about my cats.

Hey, I'm just saying.

Life is pain.  Love is pain.  And friendship is also pain.  No pain, no gain.

So, shoot me a message and let me know.  If you don't email me or comment, I am going to have to assume <shiver> that you can handle the fact that I express my emotions on my blog.

/Hugs 

Today has been a hell of a day.

It all began with the great shoelace hunt.  My son was going on his senior trip today.  For some reason, the amusement park they were attending, which shall remain nameless, requires them to "look nice," so flip-flops are out of the question.  We live where the state shoe IS the flip flop, so the boy had to actually dig into his closet to find a pair of tennis shoes, and then he did not have shoelaces in them.  So at 7:00 a.m. when I am supposed to be on my way to work, I am searching three different stores for shoelaces.  Did I get a thank you?  Um, no.

At school, my department is having the email war from hell over something idiotic.  I refuse to participate, and now, those of us who are NOT acting like idiots and sending twenty five emails a day; who are instead TEACHING as we are supposed to do....are being put down and told, in the emails, that we are either suffering from "apathy or antipathy."  Hey, guess what?  Maybe I am suffering from a lack of being overly impressed with my own words?  A lack of hot air?  A lack of being an asshole?

To top it all off, I come home and I am minding my own business and eating lunch with my husband when I get a call from my best friend.  Now, I want to make it clear that I am in no way upset with my friend, who has broken her foot and is probably exhausted, miserable, and feels like she is in the middle of this situation.  But you know....my friend lives a fair distance from my house.  Twice a month (not often, it is not like we are talking every week) we see each other on the weekend to get our nails done.  Since she has broken her foot, is cooped up, needs her nails done, and has no way to drive herself, I offered to come get her.  I did this because SHE IS MY FRIEND AND I LOVE HER.  You know, it is not like I enjoy driving across town. 

As we were having this discussion, she asked if I had room in my car for a wheelchair.  I don't know how big the wheelchair is, so I suggested that I drive her truck.  I did not do this because I want to drive a truck I have never driven which will make me REALLY nervous.  I did it BECAUSE I WANTED HER TO BE MORE COMFORTABLE THAN SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN IN MY TOYOTA COROLLA.    Because she is used to getting in and out of her own vehicle with her broken foot.  Because my car is small and she is tall.  BECAUSE I WAS BEING THOUGHTFUL AND CONSIDERATE.

Right away, in the background, I hear her husband start complaining.  At first, I thought it was about me driving the truck.  I could have maybe bought that one.  I would have thought it was retarded, but I could have maybe bought it.  But no.  He was bitching about WHERE we were getting our nails done because it would cost twenty dollars for us to take the truck over to the nail shop by MY house.

You know, I know they are worried about money right now.  And if he would have let us make whatever arrangement and then hung up the phone and talked to her about it, she could have talked to me in the morning and we could have arranged something.  Because, guess what?  I have a heart.  I give a shit.  I care...or does he choose not to remember times in the past when I have cared despite the fact that my own pocketbook could scarcely afford it? 

But when I am giving my time and offering to do something out of the kindness of my heart, not asking anything in return, because I love my friend, I am rather taken aback when the reaction is that I should be happy to offer to come all the way there, use my car to go back, come all the way back in my car, then go all the way back...and that is perfectly FINE with him.  Yet when I suggest that we use the truck to HELP his wife be more COMFORTABLE, it is suddenly a money issue and I am somehow made to feel like I have done something wrong.

I'm hurt.  Really hurt.  I was in tears outside the restaurant where my husband and I were eating. I'm in tears now.  This is a person I consider to be a friend, who thinks nothing of acting as if the things I give from my heart, and have given for years, mean nothing to him.

This is why people give nothing to other people. 

But I love my friend.  She is an unselfish, loving person. 

Life is too damn short to let twenty fucking dollars matter that much, so I don't intend to let it, if that means I have to fucking pick her up every two weeks from now until she can drive. From now until her cast is off.  From now until her physical therapy is done.  From now until I move out of this godforsaken city and we can no longer go for nails. 

At the end of the day, if I break my leg, I'm betting someone is going to come for me.

How about HIM? 

What would you most like to change about your life?

I would like to move.  Right now, the place where I am living is not suited to me, my husband, or my youngest child.  For me, it feels like I am wearing an itchy suit I need to get out of and I cannot because I need to wear it for a business meeting that is taking place three hours from now.  By the time the meeting arrives, I am going to have a rash. 

We live in a backwater town that calls itself a city. Now, some people near and dear to my heart who live in my town are going to argue with what I am about to say, and that's fine.  I am going to refute those points in advance so I can make if perfectly clear that no matter what you say, this is not now, nor is it ever going to be, Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, or any other metropolitan area to me.

There is no culture here.  We have a few teeny tiny little museums...and a zoo.  I want a real museum.  A museum of science and industry.  A museum of natural history.  And they should be HUGE.  I hate zoos, with a passion.  So don't talk to me about a zoo having anything to do with culture.  I want art museums so big that I can stand in front of paintings and I have to crane my neck to look up.  I want every type of artist and every type of art.  And it should take me HOURS to walk through.  I want Broadway shows that come through more than once every five years, and I want to be able to see them, even if I am not "the elite." 

Culture does not mean football.  It does not mean baseball.  I like those things, don't get me wrong, but I cannot afford season tickets to NFL football, and I can get that in a real city, too. 

There is no restaurant variety here.  Before you jump all over me, I don't mean chains. Yes, we have Outback and Ruth's Chris.  Whoop-di-do-da.  I am talking about a variety of FOOD.  My husband is British.  He likes Indian food.  There are three Indian restaurants in the whole town, and they are expensive.  Two of them suck and the one that doesn't is 45 minutes away from us.   People here think Chinese food means take out.  I would love to find a decent sit down Chinese restaurant.  And though we live BY THE OCEAN, I have yet to find a good seafood restaurant because people here believe good seafood means "bread that sucker and fry it till you can't taste it anymore."  

There is nothing to do here.  Don't get me wrong, I find stuff.  And I am going to go out on a limb and refute my friend here.  Even in your so called "super cool really great area of town" (one little street with some shops) there is nothing to do.  If you don't drink to get drunk (which I don't), surf (which I don't and who would on these waves, I don't get them), fish or hunt (um, no again), quilt (sorry, missed that lesson in home ec), scrapbook or craft, or volunteer in your kid's school (sorrry, I work there), there is nothing to do.

Although we are not a real city, we have the same problems as a real city.  Why?  Because of the things I mentioned above, of course. 

Our murder rate is among the highest in the state.  Gee, call me crazy, but we don't put that on our advertisement when we say come visit.  Our schools suck, and I should know because I teach in one, and I have been teaching in this district for seven years.  And why do they suck?  Because our city is huge in land mass and poor in money and problems have been ignored for years and there is a "good ol' boy system" rampant in the district that will never improve. The traffic is ridiculous.  In the time I have lived here, they have made it worse not better, and it takes them forever to build anything.  And, although they want to call themselves a city, there is nothing resembling mass transit. 

My friend will say if only I move out of the "country" where I live, I will find what I am looking for and be gloriously happy.  Bullshit.  It just isn't so.  I have lived in this area for seven years, friend, and I love you dearly, but I want to move on.  And I intend to, as soon as Sean gets about a year under his belt in his new job, 

I thought those of you who are in my community would want to know, so I copied this from her sister's (Mermaid Sirena's) blog):

Dear all that know Miss Minda,

Yesterday, Friday, around 11am she fell going down the outside steps at a county building. A police officer happened to watch the whole thing and was over to her within minutes. She knew she had broken something and the county building insisted on calling an ambulance since it happened on their property. To make a long story as short as possible she was operated on last night. She basically blew out her ankle. It was broken in three or four places, they had to insert a four inch plate of metal at six or seven screws to hold it all together. She spent the night and might spend tonight as well. She won't be working for at least a week, probably two, since she can't have a cast for two weeks. Getting into her own home will be a problem since they have stairs to get into ANY door in the house; there is a chance she will be staying with my parents since this is where she is anyway (she lives about an hour away from here). If anyone needs to contact me fee free to send a message and I can give further details as I know them.

Prayers and thoughts are always welcome.

Sirena

I have spoken to her on the phone and she is doing well, a little groggy but still herself...worrying about work!  I just wanted to let you guys know, too.

I owe my parents an apology.

For all the times I was thoughtless.

For all the times I was careless.

For all the times I did not listen to the things you told me.

For all the times I did not value the love you gave me.

For the cavalier way in which I treated you, I apologize.

For the lessons you taught me that I did not learn until it was too late to understand them, I apologize.

For the nights I worried you as I thought, "They won't mind if I am 30 minutes late."  I apologize.

For the days you beamed at me with pride and I was embarrassed by you and wished you were not there.....

For those days.....

I not only apologize, but I have been repaid in full.

Now that I realize how much I hurt you, and how much I should have valued what you gave me when you gave it to me, I am deeply saddened.  I wish I had just one minute of time back to tell you how much you meant to me and how much your love enriched my life, every day of it, while you were alive.

I wonder if you thought, "Where did I go wrong with her, that she does not understand how much I love her, that she is embarrassed by me, that she cannot see the value in what I have given up for her?"  I wonder if you were as hurt and as devastated as I was two days ago.

I know that leaving you was a part of life....and I know that my own children leaving me to become independent is also a part of life.

I always thought I wanted that to be the natural order of things.

I always thought it would happen more like a natural separation than like a wound being ripped open.

Does the child feel the only way to separate is to wound the parent so the parent is angry and grieving?  Is that it?  I was once this child.  Is this what I did?  Probably.

I would like to imagine that I was a kinder, gentler person.

That I did not say to my parents, "You embarrass me."

That I did not try, in my desparate desire to be free of them, to hurt them along the way.

But I probably did.

They were probably never the same after I did that to them.

Just as I will never be the same after this week.

Just as I must now accept that I am less important than the world out there.

Just as I must now find somewhere else to put that energy.

Just as I must accept that it is not necessarily a bad thing for me to put my energy somewhere else.

A little sad, yes.

But after all, I have never been one to put my energy where it will be wasted.

I have given twenty years of my life.

I have worried every day and fretted every night.

I have done my very best.

And in the end, if that is not enough....

I owe myself enough respect to live my life for myself now.

Ok.  It isn't Hurricane Katrina.  But if you have ever been married, or watched anyone being married, or been near anyone being married, you are going to freak out right alone with me.

My stepdaughter is getting married in three weeks.  This is my ex husband's daughter.  We are very close and always have been.  Let's just call me the level headed one in the whole wedding deal.  My stepdaughter, we'll call her Autumn, has just been diagnosed by a rheumatologist with fibromyalgia.  This has been a hellish year for her between that and wedding planning.  Her fiance is a prince and I love him.  Her dad is a great guy but let's just say he has paid for his tux and that is about it.  Her mother is a nut case.  She is military, living in Germany at the moment, trying to manage the wedding from Germany and being a right bitch about it.  Me, I just help out and keep my mouth shut and pay for stuff where I can.  There is your background.

So today is the final dress fitting.  The dress shop is in ye olde historic first city ever built in the U.S. yada yada where many beautiful weddings take place so many dress shops abide.  I arise early on this historic day.  I open the internet and do my reading of the morning paper online as usual to be greeted with this headline. Brides-to be mob closed dress store  (Is anyone seeing the foreshadowing of doom here?)  So I read this story of the closed dress store, the owner is ill, saying she will "contact everyone" brides going out to buy new dresses, and I think, hm, that name...please for the LOVE of GOD tell me that is NOT the shop Autumn is using and just paid an additional FOUR HUNDRED dollars to alter her dress.

So I look in my wallet for the card.

And of course it is.

And of course I have to drive 45 minutes acrosee town to tell her this.

She is going to freak.  out..    I know this because I am freaking out and I am not even getting married.  The wedding is on April 19th.  She spent 1200 dollars on the dress.  The veil matches it perfectly.  There are no words to even describe the hysteria that is going to ensue.  I have already called the number on the voicemail at the dress shop and pleaded with the "terribly sick" dress shop owner to just please give us the dress.  That I will meet her anywhere.  Anytime.  Just give us the dress. But, you know....I really am not all that confident.

Her mother is going to be the strident, freaking out, motherzilla bitch from hell.  Oh my god.  Can I just leave the country when she flies in please?  And can April 20 please just get here?

Well, no just putting off the inevitable.  I better go tell her before someone else reads the paper.

The Time Traveler's Wife

This is a truly wonderful book.  I haven't read a book like this in a very long time.  The kind that bothered me after I finished it; the kind that made me lie awake wondering how Clare was coping.  The kind that had me agonizing over him lying in a parking garage.  Oh my GOD, it was an amazing book.  Since I tend to be a bit on the jaded side after reading so much, you know it has to be good.

Not that I am a big NEA fan, usually, but when I read this, I nodded so many times I thought my head was going to fall right off my neck.

http://www.nea.org/esea/overhaul.html

Finally, FINALLY, someone speaks the truth about No Child Left Behind.  Now, if only Congress will listen.

Someone please save my profession before it is too late.  I am tired of watching teachers (and students) give up.

When you die, who are the three top people you'd like to meet in heaven, and why?
Submitted by squelchbaker.

Interesting question. First, I am not convinced there is a heaven, but I would like to hope there is.  Next, I am not sure I am on the Heaven "list," or whatever the equivalent is (I always imagine some sort of never-ending scroll), but if I am, please let there be never-ending ice cream there.  Heaven should surely include the end of my endless diets.

On to the question.  The first person I would like to meet in heaven would be Jesus.  We need to talk.  I need some answers about all the crap going on down there, and why it has been so long since he went down to save humanity.  Personally, I have looked around and I think redemption is long overdue; what about a return visit?  I am going to need an explanation for tsunamis, Hurricane Katrina, high gas prices, that kid who just killed his whole family for no good reason, the FCAT test (no amount of redemption is going to solve that, but give it a shot), clubbing baby seals, rap music, and size two models.  In case he thinks any of that is a bit shallow, I'll limit it to just the last two hundred years and ask for just an explanation for the Holocaust.  I'll take the short versioin.  I have eternity to listen.

The second person I would like to meet in heaven is my father.  I miss him.  I would like to talk with him.  I miss talking to him; he was one of the few people who really understood me.  He really "got" me, and I miss that.  It would be nice to know what he thinks about my career, even though I know there are parts of it he would totally disapprove of, such as the area of the city in which I work.  It would be nice to be able to discuss my work with him, though, and to hear what he thinks.  On the other hand, in heaven I would be eating ice cream and not working.  Because it's heaven, right?  Please tell me I am not going to work in heaven.  If I am going to work, I must be in hell, not heaven.

The third person I would like to meet in heaven is my mother.  I owe her an apology.  I lost her when I was so young and it would be nice to be able to tell her that now I realize she was only a human being.  Yes, she was a human being without a grip on reality.  But now that I have had children, I know what kind of responsibilities my dad left her with as he traveled all over the country and that could not have been easy.  I wish I had known her better.  I wish I had known the person behind the alcoholism, behind the agoraphobia...behind all the fears and addictions.  I would like to let her know that no matter what, I still owe the person I am to her.  Even though I sometimes wish I was not so driven, so uptight, and so damn worried all the time, I could be many worse things.

Hopefully, heaven (or the alternative) is not in the cards for a while.  But when it does happen, give me a big bowl of ice cream, and bring on Jesus first.  We have some talking to do.