Well, it seems I have found the perfect job. Why, you may ask? (Because you're all just dying to know, right?) Well, it would appear that I fit right in at an elementary school.
So I'm hurrying in to work today - and I would like to take this moment to say that I was not late, just walking quickly - but I was still walking carefully in order to avoid any patches of ice or slick spots of snow, because heaven knows spending my entire working day with a big old wet spot on my butt, believe it or not, doesn't really appeal to me. So anyway, I'm walking along, and the next thing I know I'm on the ground and my knees are on fire. I seriously have NO idea how it happened, but I guess I must have tripped over . . . something . . . even thought the sidewalk was perfectly clear of obstructions . . . and my knees took the brunt of the fall. And while it was quite painful, I was able to appreciate the fact that I'm 25 and not 52, in which case I probably would have broken both legs, because that's just my luck.
So I hobble into the school, extremely grateful that the office is right next to the front entrance and explain to the secretary, who thankfully knows exactly who I am, so apparently last week was just a bit of three-day-weekend-itis or something. Anyway, I explain, feeling really dumb, and she shows me into the nurse's office and grabs one of those little butterfly bandaids for me, because of course my knees are all bloody, one significantly more than the other. And I set about cleaning up the best I can, at least to the point that I can get through my 2 1/2 hour work day.
This would be about the time that I remember I'm wearing the awesome socks Ashli gave me for Christmas - white with neon hearts on them, (SWEET!) and which are still white and bright and neon, unlike the almost-exact-same-except-stars-and-checkerboard-pattern socks mom gave me last year, that after a year of wear are still white, but decidedly dingy (although I didn't notice until getting the new socks. Oh, how I love fun socks!) And as I watch one trail of blood get away from me and run down my leg my first thought was "Not the pretty white socks!" I recommend you play that bit in your head a la the gingerbread man in Shrek when he says "Not the gumdrop buttons!!" Not because I thought it like that at the time, but because that's how I heard it in my head just now, and it sounds infinitely better that way, and more fun. (side note: don't you love how I have a sense of humor about catastrophes most of the time?) The good news: the socks were spared. Yay! The bad news: obviously, my jeans have died a horrible death. It's kind of cool, actually - the right knee ripped straight across, seam to seam, completely cleanly. Yeah, go ahead, be impressed . . . I know I am! :-) And guess what? The left knee had just a small tear, but it tore a perfect right angle. I may be a klutz, but DANGIT, I'm a talented klutz! And while it sucks to lose a pair of casual-workplace-acceptable jeans, I am supremely glad I wore them today instead of my new khakis or corduroys that I bought not even two weeks ago yet. If I'd torn my new cords, I think I might have cried.
So . . . yeah. I fell and scraped my knees today. I totally belong in an elementary school. In second grade I worked with all boys today, and they thought the whole "torn and bloodsoaked jeans/scraped up left knee/bandaged right knee" look was pretty cool. Sadly though, since my knees are significantly bigger than a kids knee, the butterfly bandaid really wasn't big enough, so when I got home I had to take it off and do the whole thing over again, which I would have done anyway to clean things a little more thoroughly. And holy crap that thing was red when I pulled it off!
I suppose I was due for something like this to happen. The last time something so utterly, laughably silly happened to me was when my family went to Disney World in '04. We were riding Primeval Whirl, and the exit path is an especially uneven boardwalk. So, naturally, I tripped there too. (side note: seriously, who's brilliant idea was that bumpy boardwalk anyway? And by brilliant I mean, of course, epically dumb - I'm sure I'm not the only one who's tripped there. If it was Joe Rohde, I am sorely tempted to rip the earring out in retaliation! :-) Guy's going DOWN!!) Sadly, that time I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans. But the good news is, that trip just cause a small rip (and no blood, yay!), so it was easy to patch up once we got home. Good times.
So . . . yeah. That was my day. How was yours? :-)
P. ost S. cript
Quite possibly the best spoof I've ever seen. Only Sesame Street could get away with this . . . and make it actually funny! :-)
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Quandries
So work is going pretty well. I've officially been there for a week now, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Best part? One of the second grade boys is constantly asking me when it will be his turn to work with me. (I pull them out of class one at a time for about ten minutes each for a little practice) Except, he's one of the "good" kids and doesn't need help, at least not with reading. But he won't take know for an answer, and keeps asking every day. Crushing? I'll let you decide. But between him and the fourth graders in the after school club, I'm kinda enjoying this feeling of being completely adored. :-)
Speaking of the fourth graders, I'm discovering a little bit of just how hard it must be to be a teacher of kids who think you really do know everything. Last week one of the girls asked me if "dog backwards" was a bad word.
(side note: the whole dog backwards thing kind of made me laugh - I haven't heard that in soooooo long! It reminded me of my own elementary school days . . . and how some of the eighth graders who cursed better than sailors were the first graders who were the first to cover their mouths and gasp when someone said "heck." Even then I giggled at the irony.)
Okay, tangent over. Ummmm . . . what am I supposed to say to that? Sure, I can tell her it's a bad word, but then what if she goes home and hears her parents say it, and tells them that her teacher said it was a bad word, and then they complain to the principal and then I get fired, and yes, I'm probably blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but have you seen the news these past few years?! Parents these days are experts at making huge deals out of silly things, and the more trivial the issue, the bigger fit they throw, it seems. I gotta say, I'm kind of embarrassed to think that these parents (at least some of them) are my contemporaries. Seriously. Not cool.
But really, what am I supposed to say? I'm neither the kid's parent, nor her Sunday School teacher/religious leader. I have no right to impose my moral values on her or tell her what I believe is right. So I hedged and said some people think it's bad and then (quite skillfully, if I do say so myself) took the topic back the homework she was supposed to be doing. Cop out? Perhaps . . . probably. But she totally took me by surprise. Here's hoping I don't have to do something like that again.
The other (bigger, more consistent) problem I have is with the math homework. Okay, in the first place, these kids get about three times more homework than I ever did, which strikes me as pretty crazy. When do they get to be kids?! And in the second place, they're doing math that I haven;t done since . . . well, since about fourth grade. And I'm supposed to help them?! I'm supposed to explain to them what to do when they don't know?! I'm supposed to check their work and make sure it's correct?! I really hope I'm not responsible for these kids' math grades slipping.
On that note, I have to admit I kind of don't see the point of math classes beyond about a fourth grade level. Because when it comes to the real world, I haven't done any mental math more advanced than simple addition whilst grocery shopping . . . well, pretty much ever, and even then I rarely add a number bigger than about four to the running total. And I haven't used a calculator for math significantly harder than that . . . well, ever. I still have my old TI-82 graphing calculator from high school math (which I failed miserably, thank you very much!), but my cell phone calculator is actually more advanced than I need. More advanced than I've needed in six years, as a matter of fact. So can someone please explain to me what the point is in the average student taking geometry and calculus and trig? (failed geometry, didn't take the others, just fyi) Sure, the engineering and chem and pre-med majors all need more math, but what the crap are the rest of us ever going to so with it? And heaven knows my life and GPA would have been much better off and more pleasant without the math.
You know what the worst part is? I can't tell the kids that. I feel so sorry for them - at least I"m done with the torture!
P. ost S. cript
Okay, even if you never watch the videos I post, if you only ever watch one in your entire lifetime, make it this one. I guarantee you won't regret it. Make it full screen too, otherwise you might miss the best part like I almost did. Seriously - funniest thing ever. EVER.
Speaking of the fourth graders, I'm discovering a little bit of just how hard it must be to be a teacher of kids who think you really do know everything. Last week one of the girls asked me if "dog backwards" was a bad word.
(side note: the whole dog backwards thing kind of made me laugh - I haven't heard that in soooooo long! It reminded me of my own elementary school days . . . and how some of the eighth graders who cursed better than sailors were the first graders who were the first to cover their mouths and gasp when someone said "heck." Even then I giggled at the irony.)
Okay, tangent over. Ummmm . . . what am I supposed to say to that? Sure, I can tell her it's a bad word, but then what if she goes home and hears her parents say it, and tells them that her teacher said it was a bad word, and then they complain to the principal and then I get fired, and yes, I'm probably blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but have you seen the news these past few years?! Parents these days are experts at making huge deals out of silly things, and the more trivial the issue, the bigger fit they throw, it seems. I gotta say, I'm kind of embarrassed to think that these parents (at least some of them) are my contemporaries. Seriously. Not cool.
But really, what am I supposed to say? I'm neither the kid's parent, nor her Sunday School teacher/religious leader. I have no right to impose my moral values on her or tell her what I believe is right. So I hedged and said some people think it's bad and then (quite skillfully, if I do say so myself) took the topic back the homework she was supposed to be doing. Cop out? Perhaps . . . probably. But she totally took me by surprise. Here's hoping I don't have to do something like that again.
The other (bigger, more consistent) problem I have is with the math homework. Okay, in the first place, these kids get about three times more homework than I ever did, which strikes me as pretty crazy. When do they get to be kids?! And in the second place, they're doing math that I haven;t done since . . . well, since about fourth grade. And I'm supposed to help them?! I'm supposed to explain to them what to do when they don't know?! I'm supposed to check their work and make sure it's correct?! I really hope I'm not responsible for these kids' math grades slipping.
On that note, I have to admit I kind of don't see the point of math classes beyond about a fourth grade level. Because when it comes to the real world, I haven't done any mental math more advanced than simple addition whilst grocery shopping . . . well, pretty much ever, and even then I rarely add a number bigger than about four to the running total. And I haven't used a calculator for math significantly harder than that . . . well, ever. I still have my old TI-82 graphing calculator from high school math (which I failed miserably, thank you very much!), but my cell phone calculator is actually more advanced than I need. More advanced than I've needed in six years, as a matter of fact. So can someone please explain to me what the point is in the average student taking geometry and calculus and trig? (failed geometry, didn't take the others, just fyi) Sure, the engineering and chem and pre-med majors all need more math, but what the crap are the rest of us ever going to so with it? And heaven knows my life and GPA would have been much better off and more pleasant without the math.
You know what the worst part is? I can't tell the kids that. I feel so sorry for them - at least I"m done with the torture!
P. ost S. cript
Okay, even if you never watch the videos I post, if you only ever watch one in your entire lifetime, make it this one. I guarantee you won't regret it. Make it full screen too, otherwise you might miss the best part like I almost did. Seriously - funniest thing ever. EVER.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Creeptastic
So Convergys has gone to a 24-hour operation now. I guess all the WoW playing man-boys in their mothers' basements really need their internet to be working at 2:00 in the morning. :-) Of course, in order to be open 24/7 you need people there 24/7. Which means that Luke is now working the graveyard shift - 7:30 to 6:00, four days a week. Started last Sunday. Yay.
On the plus side, Luke is enjoying it. He really preferred the late shift he had over the summer, just not the randomness of the days off. He's a real night owl . . . plus, apparently there are a lot fewer epically stupid people late at night, and more legitimate problems. And they play movies - one of his first nights he got paid to watch all six Star Wars movies more or less uninterrupted. Now that is my kind of job! :-)
On the flip side, I am by myself all night. I hate being alone at night. I'm not afraid of the dark itself . . . I just really hate being alone. Every vaguely scary movie I've ever watched and every episode of Unsolved Mysteries (in retrospect, I can't believe my parents let us watch that one . . . ) comes back to me and completely freaks me out. Dude, just the music is enough to give me nightmares . . . and when Robert stack did those Subway commercials, or McDonald's or whatever it was - terri-freaking-fying! There's one episode I remember in particular - a ghost story in (I think) Texas. This family bought a big house in the middle of nowhere - seriously, no other houses in sight - and then, of course, the noises started. Or something. I only remember one bit, but I can still see it. This kid was either home alone or his parents were asleep or something and he started hearing things and getting freaked out. So he ran out of the house and down the driveway that was, like, half a mile long and when he got to the mailbox he stopped and looked back at the house. And then - this is the part I can still see in my head - in one of the front windows the face appears like someone was leaning from the side and looks at the kid with one of those big, creepy, "clown-style" grins.
I never ever look out/at windows or mirrors when I'm alone at night. And I always have to have my back up against something so nothing can come up behind me. I'm not sure which house was worse - the one in Idaho Falls, where the entire top half of one of the living room walls was four big windows, or in Tremonton where there was no way to get from one part of the house to another without dashing past the french doors. It can't be quiet either . . . even last year when Mom and Dad were in Washington for a week I kept the laundry room light and the TV on all night - just loud enough that I could hear it, but not loud enough to keep me awake. I'm really glad I've gotten all my music into itunes so I can just curl up and read or play online and play my music, preferably something upbeat.
It's not like I need someone to hold my hand at night. In college I could watch vaguely creepy shows like Beyond Belief or Twilight Zone all night when I knew my roommates were asleep upstairs. But when I was home alone, even ABC Family wasn't cutesy enough to keep me from freaking myself out.
Here's hoping I don't scare myself to death or something because other than that this new shift seems to be working out pretty well.
P. ost S. cript
Just in case I've creeped you out too - the antithesis of Unsolved Mysteries. We've sooooo gotta go to Japan some day. (Best part by far is the last minute)
On the plus side, Luke is enjoying it. He really preferred the late shift he had over the summer, just not the randomness of the days off. He's a real night owl . . . plus, apparently there are a lot fewer epically stupid people late at night, and more legitimate problems. And they play movies - one of his first nights he got paid to watch all six Star Wars movies more or less uninterrupted. Now that is my kind of job! :-)
On the flip side, I am by myself all night. I hate being alone at night. I'm not afraid of the dark itself . . . I just really hate being alone. Every vaguely scary movie I've ever watched and every episode of Unsolved Mysteries (in retrospect, I can't believe my parents let us watch that one . . . ) comes back to me and completely freaks me out. Dude, just the music is enough to give me nightmares . . . and when Robert stack did those Subway commercials, or McDonald's or whatever it was - terri-freaking-fying! There's one episode I remember in particular - a ghost story in (I think) Texas. This family bought a big house in the middle of nowhere - seriously, no other houses in sight - and then, of course, the noises started. Or something. I only remember one bit, but I can still see it. This kid was either home alone or his parents were asleep or something and he started hearing things and getting freaked out. So he ran out of the house and down the driveway that was, like, half a mile long and when he got to the mailbox he stopped and looked back at the house. And then - this is the part I can still see in my head - in one of the front windows the face appears like someone was leaning from the side and looks at the kid with one of those big, creepy, "clown-style" grins.
I never ever look out/at windows or mirrors when I'm alone at night. And I always have to have my back up against something so nothing can come up behind me. I'm not sure which house was worse - the one in Idaho Falls, where the entire top half of one of the living room walls was four big windows, or in Tremonton where there was no way to get from one part of the house to another without dashing past the french doors. It can't be quiet either . . . even last year when Mom and Dad were in Washington for a week I kept the laundry room light and the TV on all night - just loud enough that I could hear it, but not loud enough to keep me awake. I'm really glad I've gotten all my music into itunes so I can just curl up and read or play online and play my music, preferably something upbeat.
It's not like I need someone to hold my hand at night. In college I could watch vaguely creepy shows like Beyond Belief or Twilight Zone all night when I knew my roommates were asleep upstairs. But when I was home alone, even ABC Family wasn't cutesy enough to keep me from freaking myself out.
Here's hoping I don't scare myself to death or something because other than that this new shift seems to be working out pretty well.
P. ost S. cript
Just in case I've creeped you out too - the antithesis of Unsolved Mysteries. We've sooooo gotta go to Japan some day. (Best part by far is the last minute)
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Aaaaaaaaaaand Moving On . . .
To a new job that is. I have officially worked at Ellis Elementary for two days now. Well, at least I think it's official. Yesterday did not start off very encouragingly. I show up about ten minutes early, and the secretary, who gave me quick tour last week, gave me a time card, and showed me where my mailbox was going to be (I get a mailbox! So cool!) had no idea who I was. Ummmm . . . awkward! Lucky for me the principal showed up right then to see if I was there yet and she reminded the secretary who I was . . . but I don't think she actually remembered, because she told me all about timecards again, and showed me where the mailboxes were, and was looking for an empty space to put mine when I pointed out that she'd already labeled as mine. I'm hoping sh was having an off day as opposed to an everyday thing. Because that could make things interesting - especially since I haven't seen or heard anything about direct deposit slips or W2s . . . W4s . . . W42s . . . 24s . . . whatever those papers are that you fill out so they can send you the other ones for taxes. I don't speak government-ese. I just hope I'm getting paid.
Again, moving on - I spend the last hour of the official school day with one of the second grade teachers - who knew I was coming, but nobody told her I was starting yesterday. Ummmmmm . . . awkward!! The good news is she's really on the ball so today she had a full schedule made up for who she wants me to pull out each day and what to work on with them. It should be fun. The kids I worked with today were all really sweet. And I totally saw my own little Mini Me while I was watching the class yesterday. There's this cute little girl named Hanah, who looks almost exactly like I did in second grade - well, except her hair is straight instead of curly - and I'm willing to bet she's one of the smartest in the class. She always had her hand up first to answer a question, and she was always right when she got called on. And she kinda freaked out a little at the other kids at her table when they wouldn't be quite and some of the other tables got to put their stuff away first. That was sooooooo me back in the day!!! Yep, she appears to have all the traits of a classic elementary school over-achiever . . . and I should know. (I always felt kind of sorry for my siblings, especially Ashli for getting compared to me so much academically, both at home and at school.) I have to wonder what will happen to Hannah as the years go by. Will she figure out, like I did, that it's not "cool" to be so smart and teacher's pet-ish and shut up? Or will she keep rockin' the Hermione-style-show-off-gene? Because half the pleasure in getting the answer right is knowing that most or all of your classmates didn't. :-)
Anyway, for the last hour and half I'm working in one of the myriad of after school clubs they do. And can I just that holy crap kids these days get a lot more supervision and structured time, and I'm kind of glad I didn't. Anyway, as I understand it the after school clubs are for the kids who's parents aren't home right after school so they stay at school until their parents are off work so they don't have to be at home alone. Now go ahead and juxtapose that with the fact that nobody knew or cared that a lot of the time in 4th/5th/6th/7th grade is was wearing a copy of our back door key around my neck so that we could get into the house after school because nobody was home. The times, how they change.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway . . . I'm in the fourth grade after school club. And basically I'm one of the supervisers making sure everybody's getting their homework done. And then at 4:00 they all go somewhere else and I go home. Officially I'm in charge of six kids, and the other aides have their own groups, but we all mix and mingle when the kids need help. I wouldn't call it fun per se, but I have enjoyed the last two days, and my six kids seem to really like me already - yay!
So far the only real downside is that I have to correct math worksheets. Fourth grade math worksheets. The good thing is that that's about the last level of math that I understood. The bad news is I haven't had to do that sort of math mentally since . . . about 4th grade. Crap. I hope I'm correcting them correctly. And when they start bringing in long division . . . I'm so screwed.
But all in all, things are looking good. :-) Yay!!
P. ost S. cript
Okay, this one is really only for the Stargate junkies. But seriously - cracks me up.
Again, moving on - I spend the last hour of the official school day with one of the second grade teachers - who knew I was coming, but nobody told her I was starting yesterday. Ummmmmm . . . awkward!! The good news is she's really on the ball so today she had a full schedule made up for who she wants me to pull out each day and what to work on with them. It should be fun. The kids I worked with today were all really sweet. And I totally saw my own little Mini Me while I was watching the class yesterday. There's this cute little girl named Hanah, who looks almost exactly like I did in second grade - well, except her hair is straight instead of curly - and I'm willing to bet she's one of the smartest in the class. She always had her hand up first to answer a question, and she was always right when she got called on. And she kinda freaked out a little at the other kids at her table when they wouldn't be quite and some of the other tables got to put their stuff away first. That was sooooooo me back in the day!!! Yep, she appears to have all the traits of a classic elementary school over-achiever . . . and I should know. (I always felt kind of sorry for my siblings, especially Ashli for getting compared to me so much academically, both at home and at school.) I have to wonder what will happen to Hannah as the years go by. Will she figure out, like I did, that it's not "cool" to be so smart and teacher's pet-ish and shut up? Or will she keep rockin' the Hermione-style-show-off-gene? Because half the pleasure in getting the answer right is knowing that most or all of your classmates didn't. :-)
Anyway, for the last hour and half I'm working in one of the myriad of after school clubs they do. And can I just that holy crap kids these days get a lot more supervision and structured time, and I'm kind of glad I didn't. Anyway, as I understand it the after school clubs are for the kids who's parents aren't home right after school so they stay at school until their parents are off work so they don't have to be at home alone. Now go ahead and juxtapose that with the fact that nobody knew or cared that a lot of the time in 4th/5th/6th/7th grade is was wearing a copy of our back door key around my neck so that we could get into the house after school because nobody was home. The times, how they change.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway . . . I'm in the fourth grade after school club. And basically I'm one of the supervisers making sure everybody's getting their homework done. And then at 4:00 they all go somewhere else and I go home. Officially I'm in charge of six kids, and the other aides have their own groups, but we all mix and mingle when the kids need help. I wouldn't call it fun per se, but I have enjoyed the last two days, and my six kids seem to really like me already - yay!
So far the only real downside is that I have to correct math worksheets. Fourth grade math worksheets. The good thing is that that's about the last level of math that I understood. The bad news is I haven't had to do that sort of math mentally since . . . about 4th grade. Crap. I hope I'm correcting them correctly. And when they start bringing in long division . . . I'm so screwed.
But all in all, things are looking good. :-) Yay!!
P. ost S. cript
Okay, this one is really only for the Stargate junkies. But seriously - cracks me up.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Scarred . . . In Actuality As Opposed to Hyperbole
So in anticipation of starting my fantabulous new job tomorrow (and by fantabulous I mean existing) I headed to the sometime-treasure trove known as Deseret Industries for some cheap khaki type pants that lean more to the "business" side of "business casual." Because I've needed some for a while, and this just seemed like a good time to start the collection.
I will never go to DI on a Saturday again. The place was seriously a madhouse - it was like Black Friday or something in there . . . more crowded than I ever seen before in any DI. And it was mostly families shopping for clothes, which would have made sense back in August, you know, when back to school shopping was going on. Has there been some sort of change in school requirements or something, and now you have to have a completely new wardrobe for the second half of the school year. Seriously - crazy! I had to wait almost twenty minutes to get into a dressing room, mostly because this one woman had her daughters taking up three of the five rooms. Every time one of them came out to model whatever she was trying on this woman would give them at least three more items of clothing to try on. Un-freaking-believable. Finally one of the girls told her mom she didn't want to try on any more clothes, but as the woman (who I'm telling myself is an anomaly and a nutcase in order to retain my own semblance of sanity) kept trying to insist on "just a few more" the daughter quickly turned to begging not to have to try any more clothes on. Now, there are two reasons and two reasons only that a teenage girl would be begging not to try on any more clothes. 1) She's already tried on more clothes than are in Paris Hilton's entire wardrobe. 2) She's shopping with my mother.
I don't wear dresses or skirts, except to church. Ever. This wasn't always the case. I remember one Christmas, I had to have been at least five because I was in school, I got this really cute dark-hot pink not-quite-knee-length knit skirt and a cute black top to go with it. I loved that outfit. I thought I looked so stylish, and I probably did . . . well, stylish for the early '90s if nothing else. I wore that outfit to school - even in the winter, walking the quarter mile or so with my bare little legs freezing, but suffering for fashion. (reference for those who would know: this would be when we were living in the apartment that was around the corner from the basement where we lived when we first moved to IF.)
Time, tide, and fashion, of course, wait for no man . . . or five-year-old, for that matter. And the trends turned toward jeans. I, however, still wore a lot of skirts and dresses. And leggings. And stirrup pants, which I always hated and never understood how anyone could possibly like them or be comfortable in them. And sweats. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing sweats in public now, but in fourth and fifth grade I had a black sweatshirt with a neon teddy bear scene on it and black sweats to go with it. I did like the outfit, but this was also about the time that I started realizing just how differently I was dressed as compared to the other kids. And, naturally, when I started to want to dress at least a little bit more like everybody else. This was also about the point in time that I was informed that I would continue to be dressed the way my mother liked with the occasional bit of lip service paid to my preferences. Okay, so that wasn't quite how it was phrased, but kids are good at reading between lines. Better than most adults give them credit for. (Also: if your kid is in the same room as you while you're carrying on a conversation with another adult or on the phone, assume they're listening, because they probably are. You pick up the most interesting tidbits of gossip that way. I don't remember much of it now, but I felt so grown up for knowing it back then, even if I didn't always get it. But I digress . . . )
Luckily, with my 12th birthday came YW, and with YW came Girl's Camp, for which I was lucky enough to get a couple of pairs of jeans - my first. Holy crap, I was psyched! Sadly, the next school year I started junior high. I say sadly for two reasons. 1) Is there anyone on this planet who was not hopelessly awkward in some way in junior high? At least one? I submit that there is not. 2) My mother decided that, as I would be entering the workforce in approximately ten years it was high time (and probably past time) that I start dressing like a responsible business executive. I hear you laughing - and I kid you not. I was forced to try on pair after pair of fancy-pants pants and ended up with a black pair and a white pair that would not have looked out of place on someone in middle management. They were both pleated. PLEATED!!! Seriously, who decided that looked good? Whoever invented pleated pants should be drug out in the street and shot . . . right next to whoever invented stirrup pants. The only time pleats look good are on cheer-type skirts. (I had one of those in junior high too. It was red, school color, so I pretended I was a cheerleader - I knew that was the closest I'd ever get.) Sadly, I had to wear the fancy-pants pants. Frequently. Five days in a week, only two pairs of jeans, and I hadn't been introduced to the concept of wearing articles of clothing more than once . . . that would come in college, when laundry quarters were such a precious commodity that I got a roll for Christmas and it was the best present I got that year. But as much as I hated those pants, I did eventually grow more or less resigned to them. I'm not sure the reason was good though.
This was the point in time where I was happy to give up the whole skirt-wearing thing as something for little kids and grown-ups. Sure, I would maybe have to wear skirts to work (a full DECADE down the road . . . that's an eternity to a 12-year-old!!) but right now I didn't have to, so I would just enjoy this blissful pants-everyday-if-I-want-to-and-preferably-jeans-please-and-thank-you phase as long as I could. And if that had been what had happened, I imagine I would be a different person today in a lot of ways. However, this was also the point in time where I heard the most about how my mother wasn't allowed to wear pants when she was in school (emphasis not mine) and how girls wearing pants to school had to be a sign of the Apocalypse - wasn't it one of the last things mentioned in Revelation? (Okay, that last bit was a slight exaggeration, but it was the sense I got from the tone of the first bit.) So I was forced to wear a skirt to school about once a week. Seriously - not allowed to leave the house unless I was in the leg exposing outfit chosen for me that day. Including a couple of dresses that, again, would not look out of place on some of the managers I had at Disney. Oy! In retrospect, I'm surprised I wasn't forbidden to wear skirts to school considering I played the cello in orchestra - I mean, really, violin playing junior high boys sitting facing directly toward me? I'm sure they got a bit of a show, even though I tried to be careful . . . especially when I wore the cheer skirt. Even if I could have ever gotten up the guts to try the old bring-a-different-outfit to school trick, this was also the point in time when mom was doing a lot of subbing, and I never knew if or when she would show up at school to teach halfway through the day. And I'm betting that if I'd gotten caught, I'd still be grounded today.
I hit rock bottom one week the winter of eighth grade. I remember it very well - mostly because I still can't think about it without feeling a few tears of humiliation build. Mom had pulled out some of the clothes she'd worn when she was my age - where she found them I've never known, and don't want to know - at the start of the school year and told me to put them into my wardrobe rotation. Needless to say I didn't - I'd stick with my own ugly clothes as opposed to my mom's ugly and outdated clothes, thank you. The irony is that if she had pulled out some polyester bellbottoms, or pretty much anything even remotely disco-ish or hippie-ish I would have worn them everyday. I'm not sure about the rest of the country, but at Clair E. Gale JHS we were in the middle of a 60s/70s retro fashion craze, and I thought the look was just as cool as everyone else did. But in perhaps the most ironic moment of my life, I learned that my mother hated those styles with a passion when they were new and I would only be wearing clothes like that over her dead body. What I had instead were skirts and jumpers that didn't seem to fit into any era, but merely screamed "the clothes I'm wearing are older than I am." By this time I had four pairs of jeans, and one week, after complaining for some time about how she was sick of me wearing pants everyday took away every pair I owned - even the fancy-pants pants. In fact, she took everything except her old clothes . . . locked them up, or gave them to someone to store for a week, or simply hid them somewhere . . . I don't know. All I know is for one solid week I wore twenty-year-old skirts to school everyday. In eighth grade - junior high - that period in time when just about everyone is trying desperately to look exactly like everyone else I stuck out like the sorest of sore thumbs for a full week. And as we all know, five days is the equivalent of about a century in 13-year-old time. The school was small enough that pretty much everybody knew that I never wore skirts to school by choice, but it didn't stop the comments and giggles. One scene sticks out in my mind to this day - it was Wednesday, mom was subbing at CEG so I rode with her instead of walking. Nobody was allowed in the halls before the first bell except to deliver instruments to the band room. A friend of mine was there at the same time, and we went to her locker (yes, against the rules. I was such a rebel). The day before I'd worn a light blue jumper with a white shirt underneath, and had been told several times I looked like Alice in Wonderland. I was wearing an identical outfit that day, except it was pastel-rainbow-striped. While at Randi's locker we were talking and she mentioned how someone the day before had told her that I looked like- here she paused for a second, and I filled in the blank, but no, apparently I also looked like Dorothy of Oz. That was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life, and at that exact moment as I was very close to tears, when I saw my mom walk past. It was a long hallway, and we were the only ones in it, so I knew she'd heard us and I spent the rest of the day praying that she'd have a change of heart and give me my pants back early - even if it was just the black fancy-pants pants that I really truly hated.
No such luck.
The next year we moved to Utah, and when mom made me wear a dress on picture day I faked sick on the drive (this would be when we were still living in Ogden because the house wasn't done, but going to school in Tremonton). So I have no ninth grade picture in the yearbook. Thankfully mom got her IRS job that involved her leaving so early in the morning that she rarely, if ever, saw how we dressed for school before school was over for the day.
I haven't worn a skirt anywhere I could conceivably get away with pants since.
Time and tide and all that jazz again, and while I was perfectly happy this way through high school and college, around the time I moved to Florida I kind of wanted to start wearing skirts and dresses again. But I could never bring myself to do it. My friends would wear cute sundresses when we went to the parks together like it was nothing. When we got all dolled up to go to PI they'd sometimes throw on a dress - I'd always put on my dressiest jeans with a cute top and cute boots. I feel jealous now . . . they look so cute and put together and comfortable and confident. I want to be able to do that. I want to wear a cute skirt just to go out shopping at the mall and not feel like everyone I see is staring at me and wondering why I'm dressed so weird. I even tried a few times in Florida, but every time before I could even walk out of my room I had . . . I don't know, flashbacks I guess . . . of my junior high friends' pitying looks whenever I showed up at school in a skirt - "you mom picked your clothes again?" I hear my conversation with Randi at her locker that day "they said you looked like . . . " "*sigh* Alice in Wonderland?" "No . . . Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz." . . . and almost before I know what I'm doing I'm changing into pants. No, not pants - jeans. The one piece of lower body apparel I feel truly comfortable in.
Logically, I know I'm being somewhat ridiculous. I know there's nothing wrong with casually wearing a skirt and most people wouldn't even notice, much less remember or think anything it. But I still can't bring myself to do it, even though I want to. People talk all the time about this or that little thing leaving them scarred for life - dude, I say it all the time - and most of the time it's just talk. But I don't know . . . I think maybe, in at least this case, I am.
P. ost S. cript
Major props for the (I'm guessing) two of you who actually read this whole thing! Here's your prize: disintigrating iphones and glow sticks. Too cool. :-)
I will never go to DI on a Saturday again. The place was seriously a madhouse - it was like Black Friday or something in there . . . more crowded than I ever seen before in any DI. And it was mostly families shopping for clothes, which would have made sense back in August, you know, when back to school shopping was going on. Has there been some sort of change in school requirements or something, and now you have to have a completely new wardrobe for the second half of the school year. Seriously - crazy! I had to wait almost twenty minutes to get into a dressing room, mostly because this one woman had her daughters taking up three of the five rooms. Every time one of them came out to model whatever she was trying on this woman would give them at least three more items of clothing to try on. Un-freaking-believable. Finally one of the girls told her mom she didn't want to try on any more clothes, but as the woman (who I'm telling myself is an anomaly and a nutcase in order to retain my own semblance of sanity) kept trying to insist on "just a few more" the daughter quickly turned to begging not to have to try any more clothes on. Now, there are two reasons and two reasons only that a teenage girl would be begging not to try on any more clothes. 1) She's already tried on more clothes than are in Paris Hilton's entire wardrobe. 2) She's shopping with my mother.
I don't wear dresses or skirts, except to church. Ever. This wasn't always the case. I remember one Christmas, I had to have been at least five because I was in school, I got this really cute dark-hot pink not-quite-knee-length knit skirt and a cute black top to go with it. I loved that outfit. I thought I looked so stylish, and I probably did . . . well, stylish for the early '90s if nothing else. I wore that outfit to school - even in the winter, walking the quarter mile or so with my bare little legs freezing, but suffering for fashion. (reference for those who would know: this would be when we were living in the apartment that was around the corner from the basement where we lived when we first moved to IF.)
Time, tide, and fashion, of course, wait for no man . . . or five-year-old, for that matter. And the trends turned toward jeans. I, however, still wore a lot of skirts and dresses. And leggings. And stirrup pants, which I always hated and never understood how anyone could possibly like them or be comfortable in them. And sweats. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing sweats in public now, but in fourth and fifth grade I had a black sweatshirt with a neon teddy bear scene on it and black sweats to go with it. I did like the outfit, but this was also about the time that I started realizing just how differently I was dressed as compared to the other kids. And, naturally, when I started to want to dress at least a little bit more like everybody else. This was also about the point in time that I was informed that I would continue to be dressed the way my mother liked with the occasional bit of lip service paid to my preferences. Okay, so that wasn't quite how it was phrased, but kids are good at reading between lines. Better than most adults give them credit for. (Also: if your kid is in the same room as you while you're carrying on a conversation with another adult or on the phone, assume they're listening, because they probably are. You pick up the most interesting tidbits of gossip that way. I don't remember much of it now, but I felt so grown up for knowing it back then, even if I didn't always get it. But I digress . . . )
Luckily, with my 12th birthday came YW, and with YW came Girl's Camp, for which I was lucky enough to get a couple of pairs of jeans - my first. Holy crap, I was psyched! Sadly, the next school year I started junior high. I say sadly for two reasons. 1) Is there anyone on this planet who was not hopelessly awkward in some way in junior high? At least one? I submit that there is not. 2) My mother decided that, as I would be entering the workforce in approximately ten years it was high time (and probably past time) that I start dressing like a responsible business executive. I hear you laughing - and I kid you not. I was forced to try on pair after pair of fancy-pants pants and ended up with a black pair and a white pair that would not have looked out of place on someone in middle management. They were both pleated. PLEATED!!! Seriously, who decided that looked good? Whoever invented pleated pants should be drug out in the street and shot . . . right next to whoever invented stirrup pants. The only time pleats look good are on cheer-type skirts. (I had one of those in junior high too. It was red, school color, so I pretended I was a cheerleader - I knew that was the closest I'd ever get.) Sadly, I had to wear the fancy-pants pants. Frequently. Five days in a week, only two pairs of jeans, and I hadn't been introduced to the concept of wearing articles of clothing more than once . . . that would come in college, when laundry quarters were such a precious commodity that I got a roll for Christmas and it was the best present I got that year. But as much as I hated those pants, I did eventually grow more or less resigned to them. I'm not sure the reason was good though.
This was the point in time where I was happy to give up the whole skirt-wearing thing as something for little kids and grown-ups. Sure, I would maybe have to wear skirts to work (a full DECADE down the road . . . that's an eternity to a 12-year-old!!) but right now I didn't have to, so I would just enjoy this blissful pants-everyday-if-I-want-to-and-preferably-jeans-please-and-thank-you phase as long as I could. And if that had been what had happened, I imagine I would be a different person today in a lot of ways. However, this was also the point in time where I heard the most about how my mother wasn't allowed to wear pants when she was in school (emphasis not mine) and how girls wearing pants to school had to be a sign of the Apocalypse - wasn't it one of the last things mentioned in Revelation? (Okay, that last bit was a slight exaggeration, but it was the sense I got from the tone of the first bit.) So I was forced to wear a skirt to school about once a week. Seriously - not allowed to leave the house unless I was in the leg exposing outfit chosen for me that day. Including a couple of dresses that, again, would not look out of place on some of the managers I had at Disney. Oy! In retrospect, I'm surprised I wasn't forbidden to wear skirts to school considering I played the cello in orchestra - I mean, really, violin playing junior high boys sitting facing directly toward me? I'm sure they got a bit of a show, even though I tried to be careful . . . especially when I wore the cheer skirt. Even if I could have ever gotten up the guts to try the old bring-a-different-outfit to school trick, this was also the point in time when mom was doing a lot of subbing, and I never knew if or when she would show up at school to teach halfway through the day. And I'm betting that if I'd gotten caught, I'd still be grounded today.
I hit rock bottom one week the winter of eighth grade. I remember it very well - mostly because I still can't think about it without feeling a few tears of humiliation build. Mom had pulled out some of the clothes she'd worn when she was my age - where she found them I've never known, and don't want to know - at the start of the school year and told me to put them into my wardrobe rotation. Needless to say I didn't - I'd stick with my own ugly clothes as opposed to my mom's ugly and outdated clothes, thank you. The irony is that if she had pulled out some polyester bellbottoms, or pretty much anything even remotely disco-ish or hippie-ish I would have worn them everyday. I'm not sure about the rest of the country, but at Clair E. Gale JHS we were in the middle of a 60s/70s retro fashion craze, and I thought the look was just as cool as everyone else did. But in perhaps the most ironic moment of my life, I learned that my mother hated those styles with a passion when they were new and I would only be wearing clothes like that over her dead body. What I had instead were skirts and jumpers that didn't seem to fit into any era, but merely screamed "the clothes I'm wearing are older than I am." By this time I had four pairs of jeans, and one week, after complaining for some time about how she was sick of me wearing pants everyday took away every pair I owned - even the fancy-pants pants. In fact, she took everything except her old clothes . . . locked them up, or gave them to someone to store for a week, or simply hid them somewhere . . . I don't know. All I know is for one solid week I wore twenty-year-old skirts to school everyday. In eighth grade - junior high - that period in time when just about everyone is trying desperately to look exactly like everyone else I stuck out like the sorest of sore thumbs for a full week. And as we all know, five days is the equivalent of about a century in 13-year-old time. The school was small enough that pretty much everybody knew that I never wore skirts to school by choice, but it didn't stop the comments and giggles. One scene sticks out in my mind to this day - it was Wednesday, mom was subbing at CEG so I rode with her instead of walking. Nobody was allowed in the halls before the first bell except to deliver instruments to the band room. A friend of mine was there at the same time, and we went to her locker (yes, against the rules. I was such a rebel). The day before I'd worn a light blue jumper with a white shirt underneath, and had been told several times I looked like Alice in Wonderland. I was wearing an identical outfit that day, except it was pastel-rainbow-striped. While at Randi's locker we were talking and she mentioned how someone the day before had told her that I looked like- here she paused for a second, and I filled in the blank, but no, apparently I also looked like Dorothy of Oz. That was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life, and at that exact moment as I was very close to tears, when I saw my mom walk past. It was a long hallway, and we were the only ones in it, so I knew she'd heard us and I spent the rest of the day praying that she'd have a change of heart and give me my pants back early - even if it was just the black fancy-pants pants that I really truly hated.
No such luck.
The next year we moved to Utah, and when mom made me wear a dress on picture day I faked sick on the drive (this would be when we were still living in Ogden because the house wasn't done, but going to school in Tremonton). So I have no ninth grade picture in the yearbook. Thankfully mom got her IRS job that involved her leaving so early in the morning that she rarely, if ever, saw how we dressed for school before school was over for the day.
I haven't worn a skirt anywhere I could conceivably get away with pants since.
Time and tide and all that jazz again, and while I was perfectly happy this way through high school and college, around the time I moved to Florida I kind of wanted to start wearing skirts and dresses again. But I could never bring myself to do it. My friends would wear cute sundresses when we went to the parks together like it was nothing. When we got all dolled up to go to PI they'd sometimes throw on a dress - I'd always put on my dressiest jeans with a cute top and cute boots. I feel jealous now . . . they look so cute and put together and comfortable and confident. I want to be able to do that. I want to wear a cute skirt just to go out shopping at the mall and not feel like everyone I see is staring at me and wondering why I'm dressed so weird. I even tried a few times in Florida, but every time before I could even walk out of my room I had . . . I don't know, flashbacks I guess . . . of my junior high friends' pitying looks whenever I showed up at school in a skirt - "you mom picked your clothes again?" I hear my conversation with Randi at her locker that day "they said you looked like . . . " "*sigh* Alice in Wonderland?" "No . . . Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz." . . . and almost before I know what I'm doing I'm changing into pants. No, not pants - jeans. The one piece of lower body apparel I feel truly comfortable in.
Logically, I know I'm being somewhat ridiculous. I know there's nothing wrong with casually wearing a skirt and most people wouldn't even notice, much less remember or think anything it. But I still can't bring myself to do it, even though I want to. People talk all the time about this or that little thing leaving them scarred for life - dude, I say it all the time - and most of the time it's just talk. But I don't know . . . I think maybe, in at least this case, I am.
P. ost S. cript
Major props for the (I'm guessing) two of you who actually read this whole thing! Here's your prize: disintigrating iphones and glow sticks. Too cool. :-)
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
I Gotta Do This More
You know . . . I really need to try the whole giving up thing more often. It seems to be pretty effective - at least for me. Observe:
Summer 2007: Lacey decides to forget about ever meeting Mr. Right. Gives up on marriage, dating will be for fun, and with whomever strikes her fancy.
August 2007: Enter Luke Garlock. Need I say more?
End of December/beginning of January 2008/9: Lacey decides to forget about finding a job.
January 11, 2010: Lacey gets a call for an interview at Ellis Elementary.
January 12, 2010: Lacey has said interview. Questions are as follows: 1) Tell me about yourself. 2) The job responsibilities are x. Can you handle that? 3) Can you start tomorrow?
Yeah. Totally giving up on things more often from here on in. :-)
I was a little worried about the starting tomorrow thing, because I'm already subbing tomorrow and Friday but I didn't want to say know in if there was someone else waiting in the wings who would have gotten the job because they could start today. Sorely tempted to lie for about three seconds, but I would have screwed myself over more thoroughly than one would think humanly possible. But there seems to be nobody else in line, so I start Tuesday.
And on the nobody-else-in-line note - on one level that's actually kind of annoying. About eight couples moved into our ward over the summer last year. They job hunted for a while, but of all of us, I am the last person to find anything. Seriously. Freaking annoying. It's a good thing I've found such an effective job-acquiring strategy. Totally doing it this way from now on.
Granted, it's only two and half hours a day. And that only adds up to fifty hours a month. Not much . . . but it's more than I've worked in a month since, well, December of '08. And I do appreciate the irony of the fact that I was typically doing fifty hours a week at the time. Blargh.
So anyway - Luke and I are, of course, totally psyched and more than a little relieved. Although you may have noticed that after the ups and downs of last year - particularly the last couple of months - it's kind of hard to get all bounce-off-the-walls excited. I guess I'm waiting for the catch to catch up to me. Needless to say, our apartment will remain rather ice box-y and we won't be renting any movies for a while yet. But things are definitely looking up. Woot! :-)
Completely unrelated side note: our apartment started smelling like paint yesterday. Quite potently, and most inexplicably. Most unpleasant - but if we both turn up dead in the near future, it's probably safe to assume it was the paint fumes. Either that or the mold that's taken over pretty much every corner in the last six weeks or so. It'll be an interesting way to go. :-)
P. ost S. cript
I'm in a bit of a narcissistic mood. The first one is from right after I trained, and the second is from right before we left Florida . . . am I the only one who can tell how much better I got?
And Eric - I take full responsibility for any trauma/unpleasant memories/tics developed on account of the first show. ;-)
Summer 2007: Lacey decides to forget about ever meeting Mr. Right. Gives up on marriage, dating will be for fun, and with whomever strikes her fancy.
August 2007: Enter Luke Garlock. Need I say more?
End of December/beginning of January 2008/9: Lacey decides to forget about finding a job.
January 11, 2010: Lacey gets a call for an interview at Ellis Elementary.
January 12, 2010: Lacey has said interview. Questions are as follows: 1) Tell me about yourself. 2) The job responsibilities are x. Can you handle that? 3) Can you start tomorrow?
Yeah. Totally giving up on things more often from here on in. :-)
I was a little worried about the starting tomorrow thing, because I'm already subbing tomorrow and Friday but I didn't want to say know in if there was someone else waiting in the wings who would have gotten the job because they could start today. Sorely tempted to lie for about three seconds, but I would have screwed myself over more thoroughly than one would think humanly possible. But there seems to be nobody else in line, so I start Tuesday.
And on the nobody-else-in-line note - on one level that's actually kind of annoying. About eight couples moved into our ward over the summer last year. They job hunted for a while, but of all of us, I am the last person to find anything. Seriously. Freaking annoying. It's a good thing I've found such an effective job-acquiring strategy. Totally doing it this way from now on.
Granted, it's only two and half hours a day. And that only adds up to fifty hours a month. Not much . . . but it's more than I've worked in a month since, well, December of '08. And I do appreciate the irony of the fact that I was typically doing fifty hours a week at the time. Blargh.
So anyway - Luke and I are, of course, totally psyched and more than a little relieved. Although you may have noticed that after the ups and downs of last year - particularly the last couple of months - it's kind of hard to get all bounce-off-the-walls excited. I guess I'm waiting for the catch to catch up to me. Needless to say, our apartment will remain rather ice box-y and we won't be renting any movies for a while yet. But things are definitely looking up. Woot! :-)
Completely unrelated side note: our apartment started smelling like paint yesterday. Quite potently, and most inexplicably. Most unpleasant - but if we both turn up dead in the near future, it's probably safe to assume it was the paint fumes. Either that or the mold that's taken over pretty much every corner in the last six weeks or so. It'll be an interesting way to go. :-)
P. ost S. cript
I'm in a bit of a narcissistic mood. The first one is from right after I trained, and the second is from right before we left Florida . . . am I the only one who can tell how much better I got?
And Eric - I take full responsibility for any trauma/unpleasant memories/tics developed on account of the first show. ;-)
Monday, January 11, 2010
Black? Green? Orange? I Wasn't Aware It Mattered
So unless you've been under a rock for the past week it was probably pretty impossible to miss the Great 2010 Facebook Color Status Phenomenon. And as we all know, if something gets written about on pretty much all the "news" websites, it's kind of a big deal. And that made this one hard to miss even for people not on facebook.
Ok, ummmm . . . what's the point of this? I know, it's supposed to be about breast cancer awareness and all but seriously - who reads the word "black" and thinks, "oh yeah, I should probably get a mammogram?" Sure, the people posting these status updates know what's going on, but everyone who missed the memo wasn't in a state of awareness - more like a state of confusion. Seriously, this has got to be one of the dumbest things I've ever heard of.
On that note, I really think the idea of *insert any random cause here* awareness is kinda dumb. Guess what - we all already know that cancer and AIDS and poverty and hunger and global warming and all this other stuff exists. People in general are already . . . how shall I put this . . . aware of these societal ills, as it were. So what exactly is the point of raising awareness? Yeah, these things need cured/solved/fixed/whatever but simply being aware of their existence isn't going to do squat. In fact, it probably does less than squat because you see all these tons and tons of events to "raise awareness" for various causes and the average person is going to think "hey, isn't that great, they're raising money for *insert cause here,* yay for them!" . . . and then they walk on by. Problem #1 - when all the average persons do that, there's not really a lot of money raised. Problem #2 - How many of these things actually raise money in addition to awareness? I'm guessing not a lot. This facebook meme sure didn't.
And you know, that kind of bugs me. Sure, I don't exactly donate a ton of time or money to charity in any form . . . but at least I also don't pat myself on the back and think about how many lives I just saved when I change my facebook status. People need to actually do something before they start congratulating themselves.
And it's not like helping is all that hard to do these days either. Dude, it's even fun! You may have noticed a couple of badges on the side of my blog. Yeah, right over there. >>>>>>>>>>
I stumbled upon those websites during my Bored-to-Tears Summer of Internet Wanderings (also known as the summer of '09). And you know what? They're pretty awesome. First you have free rice and free flour, where they ask you basic knowledge questions - what's the captial of Russia, pick the definition of this word from these four choices, that sort of thing. And for every right answer 10 grains of rice or one teaspoon of flour is donated, to be given to someone who's hungry. Sure, it doesn't sound like a lot, but if you play for even 10 minutes it can really add up fast. And over at free poverty it's an endless geography quiz kind of like that where in the world facebook app that was so popular for a while . . . only with every right answer up to ten cups of water goes to someone in need of it. And if you use the same computer every time, they'll keep track of you cumulative total. I've donated over 200,000 grains of rice and over 10,000 cups of water (the free flour site seems to still be in its beta phase - kind of clunky, glitchy, and far too few questions, so they're constantly repeated. Hence the lack of a badge on my blog or a cumulative total). How awesome is that? And it's not like I even really did anything - I played a freaking internet game! It's so easy - and think of how simple it would be to teach kids about both causes that deserve support and how even a little bit from everyone makes a difference. Seriously - start 'em young and the world will become a different place a lot faster. Not only that, but you can really learn a lot whle you're at it - and heaven knows a lot of people, especially in this country, could do with picking up a little more geographic knowledge or an expanded vocabulary. (Is it pompous of me to say I get a little bored on free rice sometimes because I get a long string of words I already know?) Why, oh why are these sites not as well-known as facebook and twitter?! This is the sort of thing the internet should be used for - not telling everyone what you had for dinner in 140 characters or less, and not telling everyone what color your bra is. Because the fact that you're wearing a lacey black polka dot vintage bra? Soooooo not gonna do anything to help cure breast cancer, honey. Sorry to disappoint you . . . not.
(edit: so I just checked out this post in relation to everything on my sidebar, and can I just say I'm immensely proud of where those arrows ended up in relation to the badges? Woot.)
P. ost S. cript
Okay, so this has absolutely nothing to do with anything . . . but it's been making me laugh for ages. The fact that it involves to of my most favoritest shows ever probably has something to do with that. :-)
Ok, ummmm . . . what's the point of this? I know, it's supposed to be about breast cancer awareness and all but seriously - who reads the word "black" and thinks, "oh yeah, I should probably get a mammogram?" Sure, the people posting these status updates know what's going on, but everyone who missed the memo wasn't in a state of awareness - more like a state of confusion. Seriously, this has got to be one of the dumbest things I've ever heard of.
On that note, I really think the idea of *insert any random cause here* awareness is kinda dumb. Guess what - we all already know that cancer and AIDS and poverty and hunger and global warming and all this other stuff exists. People in general are already . . . how shall I put this . . . aware of these societal ills, as it were. So what exactly is the point of raising awareness? Yeah, these things need cured/solved/fixed/whatever but simply being aware of their existence isn't going to do squat. In fact, it probably does less than squat because you see all these tons and tons of events to "raise awareness" for various causes and the average person is going to think "hey, isn't that great, they're raising money for *insert cause here,* yay for them!" . . . and then they walk on by. Problem #1 - when all the average persons do that, there's not really a lot of money raised. Problem #2 - How many of these things actually raise money in addition to awareness? I'm guessing not a lot. This facebook meme sure didn't.
And you know, that kind of bugs me. Sure, I don't exactly donate a ton of time or money to charity in any form . . . but at least I also don't pat myself on the back and think about how many lives I just saved when I change my facebook status. People need to actually do something before they start congratulating themselves.
And it's not like helping is all that hard to do these days either. Dude, it's even fun! You may have noticed a couple of badges on the side of my blog. Yeah, right over there. >>>>>>>>>>
I stumbled upon those websites during my Bored-to-Tears Summer of Internet Wanderings (also known as the summer of '09). And you know what? They're pretty awesome. First you have free rice and free flour, where they ask you basic knowledge questions - what's the captial of Russia, pick the definition of this word from these four choices, that sort of thing. And for every right answer 10 grains of rice or one teaspoon of flour is donated, to be given to someone who's hungry. Sure, it doesn't sound like a lot, but if you play for even 10 minutes it can really add up fast. And over at free poverty it's an endless geography quiz kind of like that where in the world facebook app that was so popular for a while . . . only with every right answer up to ten cups of water goes to someone in need of it. And if you use the same computer every time, they'll keep track of you cumulative total. I've donated over 200,000 grains of rice and over 10,000 cups of water (the free flour site seems to still be in its beta phase - kind of clunky, glitchy, and far too few questions, so they're constantly repeated. Hence the lack of a badge on my blog or a cumulative total). How awesome is that? And it's not like I even really did anything - I played a freaking internet game! It's so easy - and think of how simple it would be to teach kids about both causes that deserve support and how even a little bit from everyone makes a difference. Seriously - start 'em young and the world will become a different place a lot faster. Not only that, but you can really learn a lot whle you're at it - and heaven knows a lot of people, especially in this country, could do with picking up a little more geographic knowledge or an expanded vocabulary. (Is it pompous of me to say I get a little bored on free rice sometimes because I get a long string of words I already know?) Why, oh why are these sites not as well-known as facebook and twitter?! This is the sort of thing the internet should be used for - not telling everyone what you had for dinner in 140 characters or less, and not telling everyone what color your bra is. Because the fact that you're wearing a lacey black polka dot vintage bra? Soooooo not gonna do anything to help cure breast cancer, honey. Sorry to disappoint you . . . not.
(edit: so I just checked out this post in relation to everything on my sidebar, and can I just say I'm immensely proud of where those arrows ended up in relation to the badges? Woot.)
P. ost S. cript
Okay, so this has absolutely nothing to do with anything . . . but it's been making me laugh for ages. The fact that it involves to of my most favoritest shows ever probably has something to do with that. :-)
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Discoveries
1 - There's not much to blog bout when all you do is read all day, every day.
1A - It turns out there is a limit to how much time I can spend reading in a day before I want to gouge my eyes out with boredom. Granted, it's probably at least five times higher than the average person's limit, but it still exists.
2 - I always forget how cathartic crying/screaming/ranting/venting/punching things/throwing things can be. That's probably a good thing though, since if I did it more often, it might lose some of the efficacy. Ergo, the Happy Mormon Face is back on. "Oh no, there's nothing we need you to help us with right now, since we both know you have neither a million dollars to spare nor a job to give me, so I just won't say anything." I feel like a bit of a hypocrite, but at least no feathers are ruffled. I think that whole situation is best described here.
3 - I am officially giving up . . . sort of. I plan to keep putting in applications, but at the same time accepting the fact that I will never hear from anyone looking to hire me. Lowered expectations = met expectations = fewer disappointments. And then, when I actually do get a call, I'll be pleasantly surprised. One can only hope that I will also be able to appreciate the irony of the fact that that call will be coming three days before we finally move away from Logan. Because we all know that's how it's going to play out.
4 - We were at the mall the other day looking into maybe selling some movies. Apparently Hallmark is closing up shop. Insert Lacey looking on the bright side: if they'd actually called me and hired me, I may have had a steady job for six months but I wouldn't have one now. (Don't look too close, that bright side just might blind you!)
4A - The hole where Waldenbooks used to be finally got filled. When? I have no idea. So naturally I didn't apply there. Maybe I should wander aimlessly around the mall pretending I have money more often.
P. ost S. cript
Why can't grown-ups curl up and watch Sesame Street all day? Life would be so much easier.
1A - It turns out there is a limit to how much time I can spend reading in a day before I want to gouge my eyes out with boredom. Granted, it's probably at least five times higher than the average person's limit, but it still exists.
2 - I always forget how cathartic crying/screaming/ranting/venting/punching things/throwing things can be. That's probably a good thing though, since if I did it more often, it might lose some of the efficacy. Ergo, the Happy Mormon Face is back on. "Oh no, there's nothing we need you to help us with right now, since we both know you have neither a million dollars to spare nor a job to give me, so I just won't say anything." I feel like a bit of a hypocrite, but at least no feathers are ruffled. I think that whole situation is best described here.
3 - I am officially giving up . . . sort of. I plan to keep putting in applications, but at the same time accepting the fact that I will never hear from anyone looking to hire me. Lowered expectations = met expectations = fewer disappointments. And then, when I actually do get a call, I'll be pleasantly surprised. One can only hope that I will also be able to appreciate the irony of the fact that that call will be coming three days before we finally move away from Logan. Because we all know that's how it's going to play out.
4 - We were at the mall the other day looking into maybe selling some movies. Apparently Hallmark is closing up shop. Insert Lacey looking on the bright side: if they'd actually called me and hired me, I may have had a steady job for six months but I wouldn't have one now. (Don't look too close, that bright side just might blind you!)
4A - The hole where Waldenbooks used to be finally got filled. When? I have no idea. So naturally I didn't apply there. Maybe I should wander aimlessly around the mall pretending I have money more often.
P. ost S. cript
Why can't grown-ups curl up and watch Sesame Street all day? Life would be so much easier.
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