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April 28, 2004
Previous Entry
I review posts like the previous one, and I sometimes think that they could be viewed as unfavorable assessments of my mental state.
Gary Larson got away with it, he can just draw things a lot better than me. My stick figures are terrifying, but not really in a humorous way.
Posted by G at 05:16 PM | TrackBack
Can't seem to stop
Growing up in front of a television, I have a constantly running mental projector. It flows randomly, invades my dreams, connects with my memories.
The latest video loop is an old cereal commercial. Scene opens:
Tony the Tiger is standing behind some kids, paws on their little shoulders. "They're GRRRRRRReat!" he thunders, while the kids eagerly devour their part of a balanced breakfast. Of course, it is the unhealthy bleached flour/refined sugar part of that balance, but a yin for every yang, I suppose.
The light becomes more ominous, Tony's face twists into a rictus of fury, and he pounces on the most wholesome cute kid at the table. The chair is knocked back, and all you hear are hideous screams accompanied by a few lurches of the table. Only Tony's tail is visible, twitching in pleasure. The other kids are frozen in their chairs, spoons frozen halfway to their mouths.
It's inevitable, as Dr. Atkins taught us. Carbs bad, meaty children good.
Posted by G at 05:13 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 27, 2004
YummaLummaDingDang
Oh, this is a guilty pleasure. I'm setting up some java apps for my kids to use in the surviving computer lab, scanning the TV in the background.
I surf to USA Network's Spartacus. Goran Visnic (sp) is nice, his Thracian sidekick is woofy hot.
When I was a kid, I always loved watching the gladiator movies. Mmmm, gladiators...
Posted by G at 08:34 PM | TrackBack
Car Lust
I am seriously lusting after the Chrysler PT Cruiser GT Turbo with 220 hp. I had seen some car show previews, but the real thing is really fun. Yes, I know that I live in a city where ownership of a car is seriously inconvenient.
I love cars. I subscribe to the magazines, I act star-struck when I see something rare on the street, and I can remember ex-boyfriends' cars with better detail than the ex's eye color. I miss the feel of hundreds of ponies underneath me, tied to every one of my senses, the earth tumbling away in my rearview mirror.
I'd better rent something to get it out of my system.
Posted by G at 12:10 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
April 25, 2004
Education
Being a teacher isn't just about teaching. It is also about being taught. Every day I learn something new. Just last week I learned that one of my seventh grader's SOC (standard outburst comment), chocha (pronounced choe chah) means cunt in Spanish.
He's been using this word for almost the entire year, and since I had already learned most of the obscene Spanish lexicon, I figured this one was some kind of new pro wrestling person or move. If it is a pro wrestler, I can't wait to see the costume.
Posted by G at 09:07 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
April 22, 2004
A new kind of draft
I like this guy's take on politics.
Posted by G at 11:07 PM | TrackBack
Personally, I like it meaty
Roommate Michael gave me a daily Onion
calendar, and I really enjoyed Monday. I'm creating my own t-shirt with a similar topic this weekend. I'm very excited. Throbbing, in fact.
Posted by G at 10:47 PM | TrackBack
April 18, 2004
Product Tie-Ins
I won't comment one way or other about the Passion. However, my extremely media-susceptible mind had the weirdest dream the other night.
In my dream, the Passion had decided to market alongside Koolaid. Blood, changing water to a red liquid, transubstantion, you see where I'm going. The Koolaid man performed strange miracles, the kids loved it, yet they still stuck him up on a cross. The cross was rounded so it would fit around his body, but when they nailed him up on the cross, Koolaid spilled out. It makes as much sense as anything in the Catholic church, and it would taste better.
For another random thought, we all know he's a top in the gay world. How? He's a PITCHER.
Posted by G at 11:27 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
April 15, 2004
Pedestria
Okay, long day at school. I get home, play with Bear for a little bit, and attach her leash. I'm listening to my iPod, I open the external door of our building, and almost get run over. This stupid bastard in a Ford Excursion is driving on the sidewalk. His bumper is right up on me. HE THEN HONKS HIS HORN AT ME.
Apparently, the street was blocked by a UPS truck, and this guy couldn't wait. Rather than go down another street, this guy drives up onto the sidewalk to go around them. I'm so happy he can jump curbs, but I wish he didn't feel that he has the right to honk at pedestrians on the sidewalk.
I bet he votes for Bush.
Posted by G at 09:58 PM | TrackBack
April 13, 2004
Science report
Wherever it says baboon, put Americans/Republicans/American foreign policy. Wherever it says bully baboon dieoff, replace with Democrats taking over.
It's not a perfect analogy, as I am not terribly fond of Kerry. However, a 'D' grade is better than an 'F'. I'm just reminded of the great Simpsons Halloween episode where aliens inhabit the campaigning bodies of Bill Clinton and Bob Dole. At first they attempt to hide their identity. When Homer shows the country their true character, they only taunt the gathered crowd: "What can you do? It's a two party system! You must vote for one of us!" The end of the episode has the family in chains, performing slave labor for the victorious alien. Homer tells Marge, "don't blame me, I voted for the other guy."
Posted by G at 11:09 AM | TrackBack
April 12, 2004
Back from break
I realized something important after a nice person emailed me encouragement- I shouldn't write a summary of education just before the Spring Break.
He/she told me about his/her favorite teacher, the one who made a difference in his/her life. His/her name was Chris, by the way. I don't want to be gender biased so I've included as many pronouns and possessives as possible.
I was lucky, in that there wasn't just one amazing teacher. Ms.West had a mutant sized mole on her face that defined diameter and circumference, but she was the toughest math teacher. She was fair, loved me, and gave up one of her free periods every day to teach me trigonometry. She pushed me to think logically, stretching me further than any other math teacher. She got into a screaming match in the hallway with Ms. Shugart, a nasty vile math teacher from hell, because Ms. Shugart didn't like my sister.
Mr. Patton didn't just teach chemistry. He taught sarcasm, cynicism, and wonder at the same time. He told me to never trust the system, that TANSTAFL was a good philosophy, that spiders could be realistically imitated using pipe cleaners. Every day, he worked in the system, he enthralled group after group of vulnerable minds, and I bet every kid in my class remembers Avogadro's number.
Ms. Worrell made me only write in active voice, would shriek at me for not thinking, and made me write poetry. It was the worst poetry, and she praised me for writing it in active voice. Ms. Sharma refused to teach anyone less than a senior in high school to minimize any possibility of hormones overtaking her class. She introduced me to Siddhartha.
I want to be like them. I don't want to be noble. I HATE the word noble. I want to be effective, I want to see kids graduate to high school, I want to see my kids learn. That's not noble, that's finding the balance between caring for my kids and knowing I can't save every one.
Posted by G at 08:43 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack