Interesting things I did today

1. Sharpened a plastic pen with a little yellow hand pencil sharpener. The plastic was soft and came out in bits like the pencil shavings do, in little curls. Now I never have to click the pen to get it to write. I can just click it to annoy people.
2. Click.
3. Took a nap at my desk after teaching but before the meeting I had to take care of.
4. Click.
5. Heard some children say, "I am goingeth to doth bathroometh" "What are you doing?" "Talking like Romeo and Juliet." "What does doth mean?" "WE DON'T KNOW!!!"
6. Click.
7. Had my work computer yell at me for organizing my student's composition audio files onto the server space that's set aside in my name.
8. Click.
9. Managed to make it through the jungle my neighbor set up outside of his door and to my apartment. His jungle consists of: a broom, coal, shoes, big green potted plants, empty beer bottles, a cooler, an empty beer box, and a barbecue.
10. You thought I was going to say click, didn't you?
11. ....
12. ......
13. ........
14. Click.
    

This entry will be unforgivably long

So, yesterday I saw this video which encouraged me about being able to afford healthy foods. I had been so overwhelmed before and didn't know where to start. Now I feel more at ease about it. Then I did some research on brown rice, which I made last night. Here are some things I learned, which I never knew before:

• Even uncooked brown rice should be stored in the refrigerator.
• Brown rice that is not grown organically in the U.S. has the highest levels of arsenic than any other brown rice in the world. Conclusion: they ARE trying to kill us.

Then, I also stumbled upon another article today about calcium intake, which I couldn't find just now when I tried, but it was an uber breakthrough for me. It turns out low levels of calcium are associated with chronic kidney stones which is something I suffer from. I also stopped drinking milk several years ago. Even my urologist couldn't figure out why I kept getting stones. Now I know I need to get more dairy.

On a completely unrelated tangent, I saw this video about people's perceptions of those who wear glasses verses people who don't wear glasses. The survey found that people with glasses are perceived as:

• More intelligent
• Less likely to cooperate with others
• Unattractive

Well don't that 'splain' a lot? I, for one, have been wearing glasses since I was about eight years old. That translates to most of my social life. Hahaha. Or UNsocial life. Moving on.

Today I managed to inadvertantly transform my random unfocusing skills into cross-curriculum, interdisciplinary discussions. In short, I taught my composition students what code is, and how they can view the source for any web page on the world wide net. I learned that, whereas most sites have their code neatly organized into hierarchies, the people at google just have one long stream.

For comparison purposes, here is a snippet of the code for Yahoo!'s main page:

And here is a snippet of the source code from Google's main page:

It was such a fascinating discovery that one of my students informed me he would probably go home and view source files all day. I've started a revolution. Ok, maybe not.


I also told them about the Boston Molasses flood of 1919 which they had never heard about before. I can't believe it; it's one of those golden stories you just don't forget, despite the tragedy.

I also have lots of fun sometimes taking screen shots with mwsnap. That, however, is completely tangential. Kind of like this whole post.

So, anyway, I came home and I made a strawberry smoothie, which was wonderful. Then I saw where one of my friends had twittered this video, which I and my so-called evangelical Christian self thought was pretty interesting.

Yesterday my neighbor texted me asking me to listen to the piano part for Hurt by Nine Inch Nails. It's in this nice minor modality, but rock piano is so repetitive and boring sometimes. It was really easy to learn because it wasn't as syncopated as most pieces out there are. Syncopation and complex, intricate rhythms are my musical kryptonite. So is dictation. Ha. He sent me the message at 7am, which was weird, and even though I responded last night I haven't heard back. Whatever. Boys are weird.

Speaking of which, somebody else said he was going to call me yesterday and never did. Before, this really would have bothered me. But this time I got smart. When he said he'd call me, I didn't expect him to. And now it doesn't sting inside like it used to. Go me.

And that's the end of this educational video. Please rewind before returning. Thanks!

Boom

The Creationist
Songwriters: Chambers, Guy; Koiv, Kerli;

This is an old and funny poem
I accidentally overheard
It keeps the little children playing
And bigger children spread the word
My memory is bad
So I always tend to forget how it goes but

Life is my creation, is my best friend
Imagination is my defense
And I'll keep walking when skies are gray
Whatever happens was meant that way

You're no better or no worse than the others
We are all the same
And life is just a moment
You might as well enjoy this day
It's time to start believing
Everything you want is on it's way and

Life is my creation, is my best friend
Imagination is my defense
And I'll keep walking when skies are gray
Whatever happens was meant that way

We'll be growing, into knowing
While we're flowing
Keep on going

Life is my creation, is my best friend
Imagination is my defense
And I'll keep walking when skies are gray
Whatever happens was meant that way
I'm a creationist, oh, I'm a creationist

This is an old and funny poem
I accidentally overheard.

Oops. I did some doodles. Haha. And this is one doodle that can't be undid, homeskillet. I can't believe I just quoted Juno. Something is obviously wrong with me.

I like the painting, too. I think I might give it to my piano student after she graduates and moves away. I dunno. It just kinda popped into my head today while I was teaching her.

*Sigh* I still need to decide what I'm going to do this summer. I've put off praying about it, but pretty soon meetings will start up about the next mission trip to the Philippines. And I told my grandma that I'd call her this month about going to visit them for the first time in forever. The month is almost over... and I still don't know what I want to do. Or what I should do. Part of me feels like I have to go to the Philippines because I promised people I would come back in the summer. But in my heart, I'm not sure I want to go. I mean, if I'm going just to make people happy and not because that's where God wants me to go... then it kind of defeats the purpose. And I've still got to find time to get my taxes filed; I had to pay a lot of money last year. I'm not sure I'd be able to afford a big trip. But I really feel like I need to leave the country at least for a little while, again. I mean, I might as well, I have my passport and all.

Maybe I just need to chew on it.

I feel special

Today one of my students gave me a Valentine's Day present- happy socks! It's the only thing I got this year, but I wasn't expecting them. Especially not today.



Then I found out that Mike did a painting for me, too. That pretty much rocks... my socks off? Oh wow. I should probably be in bed now. I contemplated posting a poetic and extremely ambiguous reflection, but I'm sure I will have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Or, more likely, when I wake up some time in the middle of the night. Again. Oh boy...

I have one thing to say to this. Amen!

Dear Diary,

I think I'm going to start doing away with the "Dear Diary" posts because they feel much too formal and contrived to me now. It didn't start out that way, but things just evolved and you know, whatever.

So today I went to the doctor and found out I have another stone lurking in one of my kidneys just waiting to cause me much pain and tribulation. Luckily, I still have some ultra strong pain medicine from my last one that I'm going to take with me EVERYWHERE from now on.

Before I went in for yet another CT scan, they made me sit in a little room all by myself for a while. It kinda felt like time out. I started wondering what I had done wrong to deserve it, then I started noticing this mirror they had on the wall which was also a mini shelf with a really loopy metal frame. I just started staring at the little loops, finding shapes like hands and people in them. Just before I went insane, they called me to sit down the hall... to wait.

So I'm sitting there with my gigantic purse bag stuffed with papers that I [still] need to grade, but I don't take them out because I know the law of hospitals. The instant I take out something interesting to work on, they will call me to go to a tiny room, take my clothes off, and change into a flimsy gown so they can take pictures of my insides. So I just sat there and played with the metal bead work and tassels on my purse bag. A purse bag is not to be confused with a man bag. Because a purse bag IS a purse. K.

So I'm sitting there and I get so bored that the nurses who pass by feel sorry for me, and they're so tired that they start talking to themselves. So they end up aiming their self-talk towards me and I smile and nod patiently. Because I'm a patient. At one point, I overheard the woman who was supposed to be testing me have a highly entertaining phone conversation with a woman who needed to take castor oil to... I'm still not sure what for, but I do know that she only took it three hours prior and was upset that she didn't feel the effects. The nurse promptly recommended fluids, faith in castor oil, and promised that the woman would be tap dancing in the morning.

I don't know who this castor oil god is, but if faith in him requires tap dancing, I'd rather go find somebody else because that sounds like too much work. I have a friend that tap dances. She says her teacher likes choreography with lots of hops, but she doesn't like doing lots of hops because there are three sections of her that come up and down all at different times when she hops.

I know, I know. The visual. You're welcome.

So I'm STILL waiting there, and this nurse comes by and deposits one of her patient's things on the chair next to me because he had left them behind. I recognized the up-dated desert camoflouge jacket and reasoned that it must be a soldier. Eventually, he came back for his articles, with a single crutch and a really heavy latin accent. Not Latin as in the dead language, but Latin as in the stupid name we Americans along with most of the English speaking world affix to anything Hispanic, even though French, Italian, and Portuguese were also all inspired by the Latin of the Roman Empire. Ugh!!!!!!!

Ok. So I heard that he was Hispanic, and he started talking about how he had fought in desert storm the first go round, how they liked to put a lot of Puerto Ricans out there because they are used to the heat. Then I couldn't contain myself. I rudely interrupted in Spanish and asked where in P.R. he's from. He and the nurse both seemed surprised, and after a short banter in Spanish, he continued what he was saying to the nurse. Before they left, though, he tapped me on the arm and said, "Cuidate, Mama" which literally means "Take care of yourself, mother" but the mother is kind of like the words 'girly, chic, babe, etc.' in English, used in the slang, whatever, kind of way. But it got my wheels turning again. I'm not a mother...

I have no earthly idea why I'm so talkative. Um, so typative today. Maybe it's because I don't want to do my BSF homework and I definitely do NOT want to grade. *Sigh*

Dear Diary,

When I'm at work, it's all about the students. Seriously. It's not about policies and regulations, standards, tests, making parents, bosses, and politicians happy. It's all about the kids.

So yesterday I was teaching one of my classes some of the many words and symbols used in music, which almost always happen to be in Italian. When we got to morendo [dying away] we somehow managed to get onto a lively discussion about the various ways that people can die. Of course, the first thing that popped into my head was a tree falling on someone. That, logically, led one child to start talking about church, and how there's this one kid who always tells lies and he came in one day with a story about how he was headed to church when a tree fell on the car next to him, but he survived. That's when I realized we were way off topic, and I reeled us back into semi-sanity.

Well, today, the kid came back and told me that he had gone to church last night and found out that somebody in his church had just died because a tree fell on them. Creepy. I'm never talking about that in class ever again.

My favorite thing of all time has to be grading tests. Seriously. I let my kids doodle on them, which is quite entertaining, in itself. But then you get bits of gold like this:

A flute player is called a: flutish flutant.

Flutant??? That sounds like something you should use to clear your nose. [BTW, the correct answer is flautist.]

Lastly, but not least....ly, I found this hyper cool site about an inspiring Lego artist. Sweet!


~ichabod crane

Dear Diary,

I'm grateful for all the people who stopped by this thing to vote on the poll. I wasn't expecting a response, so it was awesome. It's all about keeping low expectations.

Unfortunately, I didn't follow that advice with some cookies a student gave me as a Christmas [or "winter holiday"] present. The gift was very sweet, the cookies looked adorable, but I'm pretty sure in at least one or two of the batches, one or more of the chefs mistook sand for flour or salt for sugar. That jivvy was special.

I just got back from a prayer service and rehearsal at church. I honestly feel kinda worn out and out of it. Getting to sing and play around with the mikes was fun, though.

ciao,
1....2...1...2...3...

Dear Diary,

I'm going to use this post to unload my pithy, superficial, inconsequential teenage anxt, which is funny because it's been quite some time since I was actually classified as a teen. They are an odd species, though, aren't they?

• With their: zomg r u 4 srs? no wei. k thx baiz. lolz. rofl. ttyl.
• And their: h3ll0 do u th1nk 1 am cut3?
• And their: hAHa haAH. omg. u r 4 WeirD. DOn'T u thINk ANymoRE?
• And their: emo kid! preppy kid! band nerd! choir nerd! goth chic! noob. sheez.
• And, my ultimate pet peeve, their: zomg Miley Cirus is so awesome *high pitched squeal* and i'm totally going to marry ALL the jonas brothers AND Edward Cullen even though he's a fictional character who is the SPAWN OF SATAN. And OH, EM, GEE, i'm totally gonna have Hugh Jackman's babies even though he's old enough to be my friggin grandfather. Jay Kay.

American teens are weird. But I rant. This post is going to be all of the anxt, none of the teen.




I live in an apartment all by myself with two male cats. One is fixed, and the other pees all over everything, but there's nothing I can do about it now because I spend all my money on bills and the doctor. And I'm a teacher so I'm poor. But at least I have a job. Praise God for that.

Today I visited my family, which can be anything from a wonderful experience to the worst torture in my life, depending on my mother's mood. On the one hand it was wonderful because I got free food, some much needed clothes [also for free which is great because I HATE shopping], and other random items. The downside was listening to my mother's Spanglish insults, bashing my appearance, my apartment, telling me to throw away my cats and cut my hair. I tell her that both of my cats were rescued from the street and it would be unethical, at best, to just toss them aside; I also remind her I'm growing out my hair for Locks of Love and will be getting it cut to donate in the summer. She hesitates for a millisecond, nods, and then begins the argument from the very beginning, as though my justifications and explications had never even happened. Talking with her always goes a little something like this:

Anyway, driving home was great because I got to see the wonderful full moon all the way home. I was half tempted to drive out to the beach tonight and just stare at it. However, I decided it would be too cold, and being a single female all alone out there in the dark with drunks coming in and out would probably not be the best idea. Then I thought of calling him and seeing if he wanted to go with me, but I was afraid it would be perceived as too romantic, and I didn't want that to chase him off. I did text him on the way home, though, and he called me back because he hates texting. He told me he wanted to hang out with me and work on some more music, but he's been working at the ports and will be going out of town in a few weeks with family for the holidays, and I'm working like a dog all next week... so there probably won't be a time for us to meet up again until next year. Ha, sounds so far away, doesn't it? By then our band should be meeting back up and working on our pieces, so it shouldn't be too bad. He said he'd call me tomorrow; we'll see if that holds true. From my experience, men have a different sense of time than women, and oftentimes don't find a priority in calling people back or keeping their promises, i.e. overcommitting themselves. Or maybe it's just a regional thing. Who knows?

At any rate, the beach would have been nice. Especially tonight.

Maybe next time. Or next year. Or next decade. Oy vei. The drunks in my neighborhood have settled down their obnoxious yelling, so it must be time for bed.

Sincerely,

Dear Diary,

Drat my impulse to randomly change layouts. I'm liking it, but not too sure it's fully settled into place yet.

In other news, I'm sticking my icons/avatars here so I can find them later. Go me.

I definitely want to make more interesting ones later on. I suppose I should post an entry describing why this site is called 'Frosty Puppies.' The story is actually quite wonderful. It goes a little like this:

Once upon a time in a land that has no mass because it's digital, I decided to give birth to my umpteenth blog. When the doctors came up to me asking for the name, the first two words that popped into my head were 'Frosty Puppies' and thus, a legend was born.

Holy moly, it's going to be fun when I have kids of my own. They better hope I'm not hungry or loopy from pain meds still, or they might end up getting named Pancake Split, or Thorny Ketchup.

Anywho, today I noticed that one of my students at school has really been working hard at the piano; unlike the others, she's dedicated, hard working, and actually interested in things like technique and form. When I was talking to her in a lesson, she reminded me so much of myself at that age- not having an instrument to practice on, having a private teacher who was insufficient for her needs. I also sensed a subtle change in her from the beginning of the year; it seems as if she had woken up.

Then, almost instantaneously, and half unwillingly, I remembered a conversation I had with her about a month ago. It was during a lesson, and I remarked how impressed I was with her ability to learn quickly, and lectured [or preached to] her about how God gave her those talents to develop those skills and use them in service of Him. I explained to her that because she learned so quickly, she had a responsibility to do the best she could with it; she had a choice to spend the next four years goofing off like her peers inevitably will do, or she can focus on her purpose. I just know this kid is going to do great things over the course of her high school career, and I'm really excited about it.

As for her peers, the conversations tend to go more like this:

Girl: Ms. S, you look sad. Will you smile? I want you to smile. Please smile.
Me: [extremely hoarsely] Hello. [cough, hack, cough]
Girl: Are you sick?
Me: [pause, shooting her a blank stare]Are you blond?
Girl: [grabs a strand of her hair and looks at it] I-I-I think so...
Me: Your answer is my answer.
Girl: Huh?
Boy: Oh my gosh. Are you kidding me?
Another Girl: Well maybe she could've dyed her hair or something.
Girl: Huh? What? No. My mom doesn't let me dye my hair. And I wouldn't want to. But she never answered my question.
Me: Who?
Girl: You.
Me: Yes I did. I said your answer was my answer.
Girl: What?
Boy: Ok. Look. Listen to me. You're obviously blond, right?
Girl: Right.
Boy: So that means it's obvious that Ms. S is sick.
Girl: Huh, wait what?
Me: [Doubled over laughing my head off but still sore from coughing for days and kidney stones] Hahaha....ow....hahaha...ow
Girl: Are you ok?
Boy: You're unintentionally hurting her!
Girl: I don't get it. When I tried to make her smile, she refused to smile. And now that I'm not doing anything, she won't stop laughing at me. And I don't get it. She laughs just when I'm being me.
Another Girl: That's the point.
Girl: Huh? I don't get it.
Boy: It's the blond. Blame the hair.
Girl: Huh? What? No. I have highlights.
Boy's Twin: Listen to me. I'm not making fun of you. Who's your favorite twin now?
Boy: Yep, it's definitely the hair.
Girl: [grabbing strands of her hair, referring to the color] These aren't even real. They're fake.
Another Girl: Uhhh... that's not the best way to start a sentence.
Me: [doubled over laughing again] ahahaha....ow....hahaha.....owww
Girl: I don't get it. Why are y'all laughing at me? They're fake.
Boy's Twin: Girl, no. This is the good twin speaking. Stop while you're ahead.
Another Girl: Well, no. In this case, it's stop while you're still behind.
Girl: Well I still don't get it. Whatever.

And that, dear diary, is called the future. As much as I regret to inform you of this, I teach the best and the brightest teenagers in my district- and the majority have some kind of funky quirk like that. Like the kid with an outstanding I.Q., wonderfully creative ideas, extremely precocious personality who ended up licking battery acid because she thought she spilled some soda. Or the kid who's on honor roll and works for the school newspaper and decided it would be a good idea to jump over a fence and break his arm in the process of retrieving a football from his neighbor's yard the week before a piano recital. Or the kid who, in his junior year of high school, finally realized that the word "fifth" is spelled with two f's.

Yeah. My sentiments exactly.

Adios amigos,
~Clementine

Dear Diary,

• concert's over
• i sound like a squeak toy
• a male squeak toy
• i think i have bronchitis again
• my head's about to asplode
• because you wanted to know
• and yes, i know the word is actually explode but i felt like being cute
• ok, ok, ignorance is not cute
• the kids did great. well most of them.
• you know what? i'm going to bed

~Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Dear Diary,

The random quote of the day is: "I'm looking at you like a llama!"


Kids are weird. Have I mentioned that? Heh, I guess I don't have much room to talk...

The concert is still doomed. I'm not looking forward to Thursday at all.

I haven't posted a poem on here in a while. I might do that. It will probably be very crappy. Let's see...

~maestra

Dear Diary,

Yeah, I'm back. No, nothing particularly interesting happened to me in the spaces in between. I just wanted the company. And it's warmer near my computer.

Well, wait. I did have an interesting conversation with myself earlier. It went somewhere along the lines of:

...oh wait. I need to find something to wear tomorrow.

*puts on long navy blue pants and red short sleeved shirt with double layer of buttons*

...man, these buttons are really annoying. This would be perfect for tomorrow. IF IT WEREN'T SO FREAKING COLD. *pause* But maybe I could wear a nice warm jacket over it.

*pulls out several jackets and tries each one on in turn*

that would be perfect! if these weren't NAVY BLUE pants....THAT would be PERFECT! if these weren't NAVY BLUE pants.

*pause*

i could wear my khaki pants. but i haven't washed them yet. ick. NO. the navy blue pants. ugh...

*pause*

well, maybe i could wear a jacket when i'm OUTSIDE and it won't matter if it clashes because when i'm inside i can just take it off.

*takes off current jacket*

...which would be perfect if my arms weren't giant caterpillars! to think some people complain about being too top heavy. at least they're NORMAL top heavy. But no, not me. when i say i've got too much on the top, it isn't where every other females' is... it's in my upper arms. my ancestors must've been some burly conquistador muscle men, cuz let me tell you what, i'm built for some major biceps. that would be great if i were a professional olympic weightlifter like Cheryl Hayworth or something. but i'm not. ugh. NO.

*continues searching through jackets, finally finds a cream jacket that matches the pants*

i LOVE it. but it looks so ick with the red shirt. maybe if i find a blue one without a collar...

*follows own orders then gazes at self in mirror*

PERFECT! that is so me! like, who are you messin' with now, eh? you wanna start somethin' with me? i don't think so!

*throws some fake punches then struts out of the room*

And that, Diary, is probably why you are my closest friend. Hehehe. I don't know what's scarier, the fact that I remembered that in such vivid detail, or the fact that earlier today one of my students was telling me an analogy I had given her a couple of weeks ago that I had absolutely no recollection of uttering at all:

Kid: "You said that our trio was like a cake. You said the bass was a plate, the melody was the cake, and the treble part was like the icing."

Me: "I said that?"

Kid: "Yeah."

Me: "Wow, this is scary. I don't remember saying that at all. I mean... it sounds like something I'd say."

Kid: "Because you did."

Me:"Well, it makes sense! Because the bass supports everything, the melody is the meat...or, err... cake, and the treble part is floating on top like the icing..."

Kid: "Hehehe, yeah, it DOES make sense. But you really said it."

Me: "Hahaha. Wow."

So.... story time over?

~I am my own anti-drug

Dear Diary,

Today was a tough day, mainly because I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night. I couldn't sleep because I had so many questions floating in my head. Like, what if I have it and don't even know it? What if I've had it for a while, and ended up passing it to someone that I loved, to? What if, right now, we're both ticking time bombs waiting to die- and it's all my fault? I had horrible nightmares, and then I just had to get up and stare into cyber space for a few hours.

Eventually, I came to the point where I remembered that we're ALL ticking time bombs and we all will die eventually, anyway. The point isn't really so much when we die, but what we choose to do with our lives while we still can.

Human beings love to point the finger, and they love to blame. The simple truth of the matter is that we are all capable of any sin at any given time if put under the wrong kind of circumstances as psychology proved with the Milgram Obedience experiment. No one, no matter how horrible they are or what stupid things they have done, deserves AIDs.

I just needed to get that off my chest.

The kids rehearsed today again for the Thursday night concert. And they sucked. What else is new?

Oh, yeah. I earned a grant to get more compositional software installed at the school. Sweet!

~adia I do believe i failed you...

Dear Diary,

Absolutely FURIOUS with my advisement group. Disrespectful, wasting my energy, time, and life not to mention theirs. So rude and apathetic.

My piano kids don't know their parts for the concert. They are also rude and apathetic. It makes me want to quit or scream or both.

Angry, tired, work feels overwhelming and hopeless AND I'm gonna have to spend extra hours with the numb-skull kids who have been sitting on their music twiddling their thumbs for the past three months instead of practicing. Idiots.

In other news, I got about four hours of sleep Monday night and six last night which is another reason I'm so short-tempered atm and can't hold anything in. Monday night I was talking with a friend for hours sorting through emotional crisis stuff cuz I hadn't heard from him in a while and there was some random dude who was starting to hit on me in the meantime which I didn't like. Well, he's not a random dude, he's a mutual friend of ours which made it all the more weird. Last night, though I about fell apart cuz of some stupid telemarketer's snide comments and the fact that he didn't pick up when I called. Of course, he called me back after I had cried for about an hour and we had a really good conversation which made me feel at peace. It was probably the only reason I was able to get any sleep at all.

Not feeling particularly peaceful right now, very tired, stomach aching, not a lot of food but not enough energy to go to the store when I'm rushing home after working extra hours to then head to church again. It's a miracle that I'm still functioning, honestly. Not being able to rest well makes me so angry; I'm just hoping I can keep it together tomorrow. I might eat somebody's face off if people don't stop being so stupid.

~Anger Management

Dear Diary,

I know what you're thinking- I haven't posted in forever. I know I left you high and dry, temporarily abandoning you for the sole purpose of pursuing the dullest pleasures of life found in work and sleep. Hmmm....sleep.

Well, truth be told, my internet died on voting night which I took as a bad sign. I was right. Obama won and the next morning the kids were chanting in the cafeteria bright and early. Crazy kids. Also, yesterday I had tons of work AND an impromptu rehearsal at my house. That part was kinda fun.

Last night at about 2:30am there was this wicked car crash in the parking lot in front of my apartment. This black car comes in and knocks three of my neighbors' cars into each other then runs off. The police showed up 15 minutes late to catch nobody. There was another cop car there early this morning when one poor, unlucky soul got out of bed to head to work one morning and noticed the damage to his vehicle. It was an awful sound, just an awful sound. All of this plus the almost shooting that happened a while ago, the shooting that happened across the street, and other such nonsense is making me feel a little more apprehensive about living here. And this is the SAFE community. I really wish I had a man to protect me and keep me informed.

But I don't. I have two cats who pee on everything and have torn my life to shreds. Unhappy, cats.

I have to help out with rehearsal tonight. I kinda want to make it quick. I'm also a wee bit nervous about conducting since it's definitely NOT my strength. I also wonder if he'll be there. It was nice to have him over last night and look at some of his music. I felt like I was actually getting to collaborate with him, but I wonder if my knowledge in musical composition was too overwhelming and imposing for him. I hope not.

They TOTALLY blocked my class's blog from the school server. Thankfully I can still reach the website I built for them, but I can't read any of my kids' musical discussions and questions while I'm at work. The school board seriously is clueless when it comes to education sometimes. Don't they understand that many kids nowadays need a safe place online where they can ask questions about their compositions, find links to informative sites, and share new musical ideas they've discovered??? There aren't enough hours in the day for all this to be done in class, and many times these discoveries occur AFTER school hours. I think this blog is one of the most beneficial things these kids have gotten, especially if they are serious about music.

That's all she wrote, son
Nancy Drew

Dear Diary,

I have a killer stomach ache, and I know, you were dying to know that. I've got a full day of work today, and I just finished grading a stack of papers that went right up to my ears. Ok, maybe it didn't really, but there was a ton of it. I brought my ipod to work and have been listening to it while I was grading and it made it go lightening quick. It's comforting to have around. I think I should marry it.

It's also useful to drown out the Xmas music the orchestra is squealing out next door. I heart my ipod. Seriously. Have you heard a drowning cat, I mean high school violin player???

I have lunch duty today. Let me tell you how much fun that is- staring at high schoolers eat and socialize and be more beautiful than I ever will be. And more happy, too. And with more talent, dreams, and hope than I could ever, well, hope to have.

I only have one hope today, one thing to look forward to. It's silly, really, but I hope he'll call. It was nice having someone who would take the time out to think of me. And when he said he had my song stuck in his head all week, well, it was touching. It's probably the closest I'll ever get to taking over somebody else's head.

I don't really know what I meant by that.

I really don't want the kids to come in here next. This is my planning, my sanctuary. Soon enough they will be jostling in, mocking me, being all cool and gorgeous and defiant. And I will be me, struggling for a small sense of my rightful power over them, a power that age should naturally give me, but that physcial appearances robs me of time and time again.

I wonder if he loves me. Maybe he'll come to practice tonight. He probably won't.

I do still hope he calls. Maybe. I want to tell him everything she said, but maybe it would be too weird. I don't know. I guess I'll find out.

I do apologize for the vague references, but you'll have to just deal with it, honestly. It takes me a long time to fully trust somebody, and I don't know you well enough to tell you any more than I already have. In fact, I've already told you much too much, but that's just how I am.

Peace out, son,
The Quake