Add her as a friend. Otherwise known as Paige in the real world, or Frenzy in the camp world, she's in South Korea, teaching English, and living life as an alien. Have a mentioned incredibly talented?
Check her out. Friend her, share it.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sweethearts: My Turn to Shine!
I will never, ever, in my life do that again. For God's sake, I don't even smoke! What am I doing playing a bi-polar woman off her meds and on a blind date with someone she met in a sleazy tabloid's personal ad? What am I doing? I'm groveling! No, I am trying to prove to myself that I can do this!
The reason why I love this part so much is because it's all over the place! I get to be free and crazy at the same time, and get away with it.
How much fun did I have with it? You don't want to know. If only you knew! I really liked listening to the others' monologues as well.
If you ever get the chance, you should take an acting and/or improvisation class. Get out of your skin, and just do it!
All across the Ordway This Morning
There are teachers everywhere secretly praying that parents dropped low-dose sedatives in their child's cornflakes at breakfast.
Just enough to keep the squirmies away, but enough to the trick.
Not fall asleep
It's all out of our control now
And whose idea was it to show up 30-minutes early anyway?
This is me, trying to write creatively about a year and a half ago at a writing group
2/2/08
Your first kiss?
Your last kiss?
It’s quantifiable.
How long should it last? There’s a number that both should be.
Cheryl stood upon the four-poster bed and definitively spoke up holding a bright red lipstick in one hand and a Gumby doll on the other, clearly taking on the instructor role.
“How long should it last?” asked Marilyn, a devoted follower.
“We’re paying good money to this so we better get quality advice.” Said another cynic.
“How do I get someone who hasn’t noticed me all year to suddenly show interest?”
Yeah, it’s tenth grade. There are chess club dorks who had 2 first kisses already. Marilyn stared at the sign that read “Kissing Workshop: how to make it happen for you this year” with the $10 price printed in lipstick and scoffed.
Why did she ever think this was a good idea? She had let Sarah drag her here, but in no way did she have any interest in the course description on the on the Myspace.com profile for Cheryl Green. Yeah, she guessed the info might come in handy if there happened to be an eligible or even tolerable dude to walk in to the doors of the school, but first kiss/last kiss? She should be more focused on algebra and solving for x.
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If you had told me this was going to happen a week ago, I never would have believed you. So it was Friday morning, before 7am, and I’m driving my usual route to work and not two blocks away from my doorstep do I hear and see a SPLAT of white right in the center of my wind shield. Seriously? This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when the wiper fluid in my car is either frozen or empty. Not when I have to make it through six hours with a half-fake smile plastered on my face for the good of the workplace.
And OHMYGOODNESS! How much bigger could this SPLAT be? Did the poor bird have intestinal issues? Why did it have to choose my windshield as a dumping ground? Was this supposed to be a metaphor for my day/week/month/life? Indicative of other metaphorical shit no doubt, what else would be dumped on me that Friday? Don’t the heavens know that my Thursday was already bad enough? This should have happened on a Thursday afternoon. Not on a FRIDAY morning! Don’t these powers realize that they shant do ANYTHING without consulting me FIRST? So yes, if I’d had known a week ago that I’d end the week with a huge bird waste splatter in the center of my windshield, I wouldn’t have believed you, but at least I would have been prepared enough to have a rag in my car to wipe it off there.
Now it sits on the center of my windshield, almost mocking me and my life decisions. Almost mocking me and where I chose to concentrate my efforts. It sits, and I sit, in need of a rag and a way to control the universe. In need of a way to seek revenge on the bird that left a palm-sized splatter on the center of my windshield. In need of control, more control, and more, and a healthy way of letting it all go at the end of a day/week/month. If you told me I’d end up in Minnesota a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I would have stared at you seriously and have asked A LOT more questions. If you told me I would have ended up coming here alone, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I probably would have asked you to come with me. If nothing more than to make the car ride more interesting.
Your first kiss?
Your last kiss?
It’s quantifiable.
How long should it last? There’s a number that both should be.
Cheryl stood upon the four-poster bed and definitively spoke up holding a bright red lipstick in one hand and a Gumby doll on the other, clearly taking on the instructor role.
“How long should it last?” asked Marilyn, a devoted follower.
“We’re paying good money to this so we better get quality advice.” Said another cynic.
“How do I get someone who hasn’t noticed me all year to suddenly show interest?”
Yeah, it’s tenth grade. There are chess club dorks who had 2 first kisses already. Marilyn stared at the sign that read “Kissing Workshop: how to make it happen for you this year” with the $10 price printed in lipstick and scoffed.
Why did she ever think this was a good idea? She had let Sarah drag her here, but in no way did she have any interest in the course description on the on the Myspace.com profile for Cheryl Green. Yeah, she guessed the info might come in handy if there happened to be an eligible or even tolerable dude to walk in to the doors of the school, but first kiss/last kiss? She should be more focused on algebra and solving for x.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you had told me this was going to happen a week ago, I never would have believed you. So it was Friday morning, before 7am, and I’m driving my usual route to work and not two blocks away from my doorstep do I hear and see a SPLAT of white right in the center of my wind shield. Seriously? This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when the wiper fluid in my car is either frozen or empty. Not when I have to make it through six hours with a half-fake smile plastered on my face for the good of the workplace.
And OHMYGOODNESS! How much bigger could this SPLAT be? Did the poor bird have intestinal issues? Why did it have to choose my windshield as a dumping ground? Was this supposed to be a metaphor for my day/week/month/life? Indicative of other metaphorical shit no doubt, what else would be dumped on me that Friday? Don’t the heavens know that my Thursday was already bad enough? This should have happened on a Thursday afternoon. Not on a FRIDAY morning! Don’t these powers realize that they shant do ANYTHING without consulting me FIRST? So yes, if I’d had known a week ago that I’d end the week with a huge bird waste splatter in the center of my windshield, I wouldn’t have believed you, but at least I would have been prepared enough to have a rag in my car to wipe it off there.
Now it sits on the center of my windshield, almost mocking me and my life decisions. Almost mocking me and where I chose to concentrate my efforts. It sits, and I sit, in need of a rag and a way to control the universe. In need of a way to seek revenge on the bird that left a palm-sized splatter on the center of my windshield. In need of control, more control, and more, and a healthy way of letting it all go at the end of a day/week/month. If you told me I’d end up in Minnesota a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I would have stared at you seriously and have asked A LOT more questions. If you told me I would have ended up coming here alone, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I probably would have asked you to come with me. If nothing more than to make the car ride more interesting.
Youtube is a copout, but I'm going to do it anyway
Because this is one of my favorite songs of all time...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Literacy in action
One of my Minneapolis Kids boys is an eight-year-old reading at an eighth grade reading level. Talk about literacy in action! I did my whole project this summer on this topic, and one of my classmates, a teacher in Prior Lake, MN, did as well. She works with gifted students in reading and was talking about just this example. Trying to find appropriate topics in books for gifted students that read way above their grade level but still want to be challenged and entertained. I'm going to give this boy the LAWN BOY book tomorrow, and see what he has to say about it. He loves reading, and has already whizzed through the Percy Jackson series and Harry Potter books. Fantasy is his thing, but he recently asked me for ideas because he is finished with all of his other books. I was at a loss today, but then remembered that I have a growing list of "boy books" at home. We'll see how the conversation goes tomorrow! Yay for putting research into practice. (This is the older brother of Lucy--of "no one is going to love you if you have sand in your shoes" fame.") Oh how I love this family!
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