Sleeeeeep... THEN MacHomer!

Pretty uneventful day.

I somehow fell asleep in class. For whatever reason, I just couldn't hold my head up any longer. I was still listening and then about twenty minutes later, I woke up. It couldn't have been more obvious. I was sitting next to my cousin. He happened to turn around and he started to laugh. He asked me: Did you fall asleep on your hand? I frowned and then I clued in. Yup, I had a big red mark on my forehead from where it had been resting on my hand. My hand had a matching mark. My prof must have been really impressed. At least I didn't snore or drool... I know I didn't drool. I would hope my friends would have poked me or something if I'd started snoring.

Other than that, I went to see MacHomer. It's a one man show. He does the voices of the characters from the Simpsons and performs Macbeth. It was pretty amazing actually. He went straight through, no intermission, I lost count of how many characters he voiced... Seriously. He did everyone from Homer to Dr. Nick, to Hank Moleman. And he did them really well. Mr Burns was amazing, Marge was amazing, Ned... Barney, MOE! Jesus was even in it. I probably should say that given the content of my other posts this week...

I was laughing throughout. The woman next to me deafened me in my right ear. My parents were entertained but didn't get a lot of the jokes. They don't watch the Simpsons. So, maybe a bit of a caution there... I love them for going with me.



It was a bit of much needed levity. What's even more surprising is that his voice was intact by the end...

Alas, I must away to my homework. And then watch Glee... I was watching MacHomer. Now I have to stay up until midnight to find out if I have to hate Rachel or not. I'd better not have to hate Rachel... (shakes fist at TV people).

And with that threat, I really do have to go.

Lauren.

Teaching Controversy in Catholic Schools

Lauren Daily, student teacher, intermediate/senior division, section three, English/history specialist. I'm not giving you my student number.

That's me. My position in the little army that is teacher's college. I believe I must now add to my present title. Sure, yesterday I was calling myself a radical religion teacher. Today, I think I need to add rogue to that. I've never been what anyone could call badass. Apparently, when it comes to education, I'm on the dark side of the force. I'm a rogue agent. Yup, WTF is about the first thing I thought too.

Tonight, I was presenting a religion lesson to my religion class. It was group thing. We'd taken one of my lessons from placement and tweaked it up a bit to fit the parameters of this particular assignment. The content was the same for the most part. 

We got up. One member did the opening prayer for acceptance. One member explained our rationale. I explained the curriculum expectations, the Catholic Graduate expectations. Two members explained the background information really well, better than I ever could. And then I was up again. The lesson got a little controversial here. 

The activity that I originally taught, that we decided to present to our class, was an activity in which students were to consider controversial issues (homosexuality, divorce, equal rights and cloning) alongside some quotes taken from the Bible. Some of the quotes were contrary to homosexuality, divorce, equal rights and cloning. Some of the quotes were positive regarding these issues. The point of the exercise is for students to consider the Bible and how it can be interpreted. The activity then leads into a class discussion about what the Bible says and what the students' interpretations and feelings are. 

It should be said that this lesson was designed to be taught in a Catholic School and is being taught during the Christianity unit of the grade 11 World Religions class. I wouldn't try teaching this lesson to a younger group.

When the discussion wrapped up, I put on the "You Can't Pray Away the Gay" clip from Grey's Anatomy. We chose the clip because like the activity, there were Bible quotes being thrown around that were both for and against homosexuality. On top of which, it's a very powerful clip that underlines how two interpretations can still be correct.

The lesson wrapped up shortly afterward and my prof, who happens to be well placed in the local Catholic board, decided that she had cautions to add to ours. If we were to do this lesson in a school, we should:

1. Tell the administration
2. Have qualified people in the room while the lesson is being taught so they can answer student questions (like a priest or other religious official)
3. Send a letter home to parents advising them of the content of the lesson
4. Know our class and our students very well

She also suggested having a debate on homosexuality rather than showing the Grey's Anatomy clip. Yeah, never in a million years would I open that can of worms. A debate means that someone has to be against. I would never, even if I trusted the kids, allow those things to be said in my classroom. It's different when you're watching a clip and you know that the people are acting and reading scripts. To hear your peers quoting Bible verses at you, telling you that the way you choose the express love for another human being is a sin, well, no. Abso-fucking-lutely not (pardon my language). Gay kids have enough to worry about. All kids care about is what people think of them. Finish that lesson and ask the closeted gay kid to distinguish between what's being said and what's felt sincerely by their friends and classmates. Seriously. Just like I wouldn't do a debate on abortion for the same reasons. I would not want to be the girl who's had an abortion, which is traumatic enough, having to sit there, listening to my peers go over the biblical pros and cons of my actions. Talk about a gross lack of sensitivity! If my child came home and told me this had happened in his/her classroom, I would be livid. LIVID. And you can probably see that livid-Lauren isn't that pleasant to be around. 

The discussion is different. Those who want to speak can. Those who don't, don't have to. It's a safe place for honest talking and respect for others and for others' opinions are enforced. It's controlled. It's incredibly difficult to control a debate. Try reigning in a teenager who has a point and wants to come up with a witty statement to stump or insult the opposing side. Particularly when the issues are this sensitive, this prominent and this complicated. 

Moreover, could simply talking about these subjects be any more complicated? Can we inform any more people that this lesson is happening? I'm not telling students what's right, what's wrong. I'm asking them to think. I'm asking them to look at their values, their morals, their ethics and to consider their faith and how those values, morals and ethics fit within their faith. I'm asking them to interpret. 

I'm glad I asked my group not to say that the idea was originally mine and that I have taught this lesson, successfully might I add. Even funnier, she thanked us for being brave enough to teach it...

Again, I don't think I'll ever be fit to teach in a Catholic board. I think she'd die laughing if she saw my application. Come to think of it, I don't know that I'll be fit to teach at a secondary or elementary level at all. I'm just too badass. 

Lauren.

Radical Religion Teacher on the Loose!

Like all good things, procrastination must also come to an end. It didn't go down without a fight though. It hung in until 4:00 this afternoon!

And then I regretted it.

I finished my take home exam. It took longer than I thought it would. I forgot how much I hate talking about my faith and religious beliefs. I don't know why, it just makes me very uncomfortable to talk about how I feel about God and Catholicism when it involves other people.

I answered the following three questions:

1. Describe your philosophy of Catholic education. How will you live out these beliefs in your classroom? Be certain to provide concrete examples.
2. How will the gospel values of our faith be visible in your classroom, your teaching and through your actions?
3. One of the Ontario Catholic School Graduate Expectations is that of ‘a responsible citizen’ who gives witness to Catholic social teaching by promoting peace, justice and the sacredness of human life. Discuss what this means to you and explain how you might help your students work toward meeting this expectation. Provide specific examples.

I view my faith as a part of who I am. I don't want or need (usually) to justify it or explain it to others. It's this kind of thing that makes me terribly uncomfortable walking into a Catholic school being an 'other'. Actually, when I went to meet my new AT, she went off an a bit of a "don't talk about homosexuality or any other sexuality" speech. It kind of came out of nowhere and I was wondering if my "I'm a lesbian" forehead stamp was showing. 

Nevertheless, I answered the questions and my prof may not like my last answer. I talked about getting students to stop saying "that's so gay" and "that's so retarded" and referenced all the recent suicides of gay kids. Hey, it's a way of promoting peace (of mind for gay kids, an end to bullying toward gay and disabled kids), it promotes social justice and given all the suicides, I think it touches on the sacredness of life. 

This is why I'm not deluding myself into thinking that I'd be able to teach in a Catholic board after this. We'll see how it goes over. My prof happens to be the superintendent of the board. My take on religion may be too radical. The irony is that Jesus was a radical and I think you could argue that he was an advocate for the improvement of social rights. I'm not all that different... Though hopefully I don't get nailed to a big piece of wood for my 33 birthday. I can think of better gifts. I'll make you a list.

My classroom management plan followed that. And no, it's not enough to simply say "I plan to manage my classroom". Nor is it acceptable to threaten your students with physical violence. My CDE prof never got the memo. I once joked that we should bring back "old school beatings". Not only was the comment dripping with sarcasm, I can't kill spiders because I don't like the crunching sound. I would feel really uncomfortable "old school beating" one of my students. And the guilt! If beatings were mandated my students would get away with everything and I would be okay with that.

So, in spite of my procrastination, I succeeded in completing everything that needed completing. Hopefully I can pull up my socks and get through this week without too much pain.

Lauren.

Weeks

Another day spent successfully procrastinating. I know I'm going to regret it tomorrow but at least I was successful. I have readings to do for English, a take home exam to finish for religion, a management plan to finish for... well, management. After that, I have things due Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. It's going to be a fast last week. Only one week left until placement. Only twelve weeks left to this school year. Only five weeks until the much awaited month of March.

It's all a question of weeks now. As slowly as I feel those weeks going by, when I look back, somehow, they've gone by quickly. It makes no sense. This is going to be a weird year to look back on. I can feel it. Ten years from now, I'm going to look back and think that this was the biggest roller coaster ride of a year. It's also the year I slept the best. I'm sure I'll miss portions of it... maybe... but I'm quite excited for it to be over. I enjoyed teaching, I enjoyed getting to know the students. For the most part, I could take or leave the rest.

What's another couple weeks?

Lauren.

My Version of Productive

So, if you've been reading regularly, you've probably noticed that I haven't been in the greatest mood. Lots of stress at the moment and with one thing piling on top of another, I was starting to physically feel the anxiety building in my chest. Solution! Pop in on Angela, my former therapist. Prior to today, I'd actually not been to therapy in nearly seven months. Which is a big deal considering I would attend twice a month for four years. Anyway, I sat in the chair, I vented and I now feel so much better.

Overall, today wasn't a bad day. Rather productive actually. I was accused of stalking. I made a girl fall on the ground laughing. I learned to block a kick and a punch as well as how to get out of a grab should a student ever get physical. I blew off some steam in therapy where I may or may not have said something about people annoying me and a trash compactor. Probably one of my nastier comments to date. Does any of this require elaboration?

I have two classes one right after the other. They happen to be in the same room. I decided that it would be wise to use the washroom during the in between time. Because the closest bathroom on that floor always has a line, is usually dirty and the smell makes me gag, I decided that climbing two flights of stairs would be a better use of my time. I passed my English professor in the hall and entered the bathroom. I'd just closed the stall door when I heard my prof's wheely bag gliding along the floor. I don't really care who hears me pee so I finished my business and went to wash my hands. My prof emerged at the same time and asked me if I was following her. I wanted to answer that no, I wasn't following her as I was the one to enter the bathroom first. Therefore, she would be the one following ME. A disturbing notion. Instead I replied "Not on purpose." Doy. I'm glad we're both awkward. We cancelled each other out.

After that, I returned to my class where we're being CPI (crisis prevention intervention) certified. I was chosen to fill the role of a student and so was told to wait in the hall with half my classmates. While we were waiting, I was attacked by a rather vicious bout of heartburn. A girl asked me what was up and I told her. She then proceeded to suggest that I was pregnant because that's the only time she ever got heartburn. Before I knew it, another girl was in on the discussion of pregnancy. I decided that before it got out of hand, that I should set the record straight... so to speak. What's the best way to totally shut down a "maybe you're pregnant" debate? "I'm a gay virgin, I think I'm safe." The girl kind of froze for a second then burst out laughing. She wound up on the floor she was laughing so hard. Ein, all in a day's work.

Our professor came out into the hall, effectively cutting off our chucklefest. We returned to the class and commenced fake punching and kicking our partners. Kind of a good stress relief.

See, productivity has many definitions.

Lauren.

The "Tell Me About It" Question

Today I'd like to take a brief moment to consider a popular expression. Yes, I have another question. What is up with the expression "Tell me about it"?

When we use this expression it's usually after someone has finished telling us a story. It's a way of agreeing. Well, if you think about it, that person literally just finished "telling you about it". Do you really want to hear it again? Were you not listening the first time?

Moreover, if "tell me about it" is a way of stating your approval or understanding, why should someone have to tell you more. You obviously get it. Wouldn't adding more detail simply be repetitive? Maybe if you didn't understand, "tell me about it" would be a way of asking someone to expand on a particular point of their story, but even then, it's kind of an odd way of phrasing the request.

If "tell me about it" is a way of closing a conversation, well, that's kind of backwards isn't it? Not only is it a crappy way of acknowledging that the person has finished talking on that topic, you're giving them an instruction to continue talking. Obviously, they don't want to do that. I believe that's misreading a social cue. "No, I will not tell you more, I have finished and want to move on to a different topic." Worst date ever! The only way I can see "tell me about it" logically closing a conversation is if you're being sarcastic. That would probably also fit under the category of first date no-nos. (And I'm not talking about the hair removal system though I'm sure grooming is appreciated).

"Tell me about it" belongs at the beginning of a conversation. If you notice someone is sad you could be all sensitive and say: "Hey, I'm here if you want to tell me about it".

I suppose "tell me about it" is really just another way of saying "say no more" which is the complete opposite of what it means. So why do we use it this way? It makes no sense.If you don't want to hear about it, why are you asking to hear about it? Reverse psychology once more slips into the world... and apparently it works. What clever person slipped this expression into our daily vocabulary? Such a person truly has a way with words. I require him/her for my next world domination scheme!

If anyone knows anything about the origin of this expression, feel free to tell me about it. See! I used it properly. I actually want to know! By the way, this is what spending four years at university studying English did to me. We're told all the time to pay attention to diction. Well in the real world outside of books, diction is messed up. Messed up I tells ya!

So, ponder that and if you're so inclined, share your thoughts with me.

Lauren.

My Forehead as Ad Space

If I had to sum up what I do in BEd most days, it would probably come down to the following words: group work and presentations. That's about half of it and ironically, it's the half I hated with every fibre of my being when I was in lower school. Now, almost every class involves some kind of group activity. As a result, nearly every class requires some kind of presentation. I think the idea behind it all is to stomp out any potential fears of people, or, more specifically, being up in front of people. Immersion therapy, it  works.

In my teachable subjects (English and history) we've been doing teaching strategy presentations.The ones in history have generally been more fun. And that's where my funny moment of the day is coming from! Shocker!

I was sitting in the back corner of the classroom with Guy Alex and my friend A. Her name isn't Alex. In any case, it was A's turn to present her teaching strategy. I have to admit that I'm jealous of the awesomeness of her strategy. Talk about setting the bar high. What did she present on? Headbands.

I refuse to spell it "Hedbanz"

I think it's probably self explanatory, but in Headbands, the players wear headbands and are outfitted with a card depicting something. It can be a person, a place, a thing. Each person then has to guess which card they're displaying on their forehead by asking questions. In A's case, she modified the game to be about WW2. For instance, Guy Alex was Anne Frank, a POW, a flamethrower. I wound up being Stalin, Japan, an atomic bomb. It's actually brilliant as a class activity. It's easily adaptable to any number of subjects, it requires students to know their material, it's an awesome review activity and it's so fun you forget you're studying. I realize that what I've described is not yet funny. I'm getting there.

So, A outfits me with a new card. Guy Alex instantly proclaims it to be difficult. Meanwhile, he has POWs on his head. I got to start asking the questions. I asked if I was a person. I was not. Guy Alex asked the same question. I think you know what the answer was. I don't know how many questions we'd asked before we decided the activity was too cool for our prof to miss out on. Guy Alex shouted out: "Hey Todd, you need to come see this!" drawing everyone's attention. Our professor looked over from across the room and did a double take when he saw me. Keep in mind I probably looked like the kid on the right. When I returned my attention to our table, I noticed that the group across the way were also regarding me with smirks and curious looks. At that point, I really wanted to know what the hell was on my head. Our prof sat down and watched us play. He looked very amused. He started helping Guy Alex which was totally not fair but I'm not a vindictive person so we'll leave it at that. The guessing continued as did the looks.

I was finally able to discover that I definitely served a military purpose. I wasn't a person or a place. I sort of kind of was part of military dress. After a while, I asked if I was the star patch. They looked at me like I was getting close. That's when I knew what was on my head and I could only laugh. What else could I do?

For a good ten minutes I was sporting a swastika on my forehead (fortunately not Charles Manson style). Normally, I wouldn't find that funny in the least. The only reason I found it funny was because I was completely oblivious. Think about it. Does anyone wear a swastika innocently? There I was, sitting, getting all excited at my progress in the game and meanwhile, I have one of the worlds most recognized hate symbols prominently on display. On my head. On highlighter coloured paper. For my whole class to see. My class who has no idea what we're doing at my table. Is there such a thing as a Catholic, lesbian Neo Nazi who finds the likes of Lea Michele ridiculously attractive? I think I broke three rules in that one sentence. Guess I'll never be a Nazi... oh darn... What will my classmates think!? Just to be clear, I am not a Nazi, I do not support Nazis, I think they belong to a terrible chapter in history and their continued existence baffles me.

Anyway, never thought I would wear that. So, today's lesson: never say never. Because let me tell you, sometimes, things sneak up on you and happen in innocent, unexpected ways. Let me think... what else did I say I would never do...

Lauren.

From Complaining to Quoting Dumbledore

Not a whole lot to say about today. I was sleepy and therefore, cranky throughout.

I actually wrote a long post for today, but given the hour and how tired I am, I don't trust myself to post it. I may be rambling nonsensically. I started off complaining about one of my classes. By the time I realized  that I'm tired and falling asleep but my fingers are still moving, I'd gotten to Dumbledore talking about the power of words. I think the progression is logical but at this point, there's no way to be sure.

I'm being cautious. At least those brain cells are still hard at work. I think they deserve a break. I can't keep giving them the overtime. It kills me in the long run. See what I mean? Now I'm into a potentially confusing metaphor.

I'm going to bed.

Lauren.

Not So Subtle Reminder (a good one)

I wrote a few days ago that I've been hurt badly by people. And I have. I don't regret anything that's happened to me. I don't think I would change anything. I am who I am because of what I've lived. I like who I am. I wrote that I'm afraid of people. And I am. I don't trust people easily. I don't consider people to be my friend very easily. More often than not, I suspect people have ulterior motives for wanting to be around me. For the most part I've been proven right.

I can be a very difficult person to get to know. I seem open, but I'm not. Not really. My body language screams f@#$ off. I usually turn down offers to hang out in groups because I don't typically feel safe in groups. It makes me seem distant. I suppose I am. I try very hard to keep what I'm feeling to myself if it's an emotion that is typically qualified as "weak". I know it's not weak to be afraid or sad. But those emotions are easily exploited and I don't like giving people the opportunity. My unnamed professor once called me a marshmallow. She sees through the bluster and I'm okay with that. I trust her, I feel safe with her. I am a marshmallow but only to a precious few.

Why am I saying all of this?

Because I don't usually have a positive opinion of people and that's not right.

I've been having a hard time lately. There's a lot going on and I'm stressed. I would turn to my friends but as you can probably imagine, I don't have a lot of friends (by choice) that I really depend on. As my luck would have it, they all presently live out of town. So, when I see them online, I don't care where I am or what I'm doing. I talk to them.

I was talking to Veronica today. For the most part it was just chit chat. She never said anything about what was waiting for me at home. Yes, I was chatting in class! Sue me! Anyway, I got home and my dad informed me that I had a package. I hadn't ordered anything online and I'm not expecting any packages until March. Confused. Turns out Veronica had sent me a care package. She bought me two books, she sent along some chocolate and also wrote me a note telling me to take some time to myself and smile. She sent me all of that stuff for no other reason than to cheer me up. Overwhelmed? Yeah, I was. In a good way.

I forget too often that there are good people out there. I forget that there are people I can trust and have faith in. I'll never get tired of being reminded.

Lauren.

The Frog Princess

Okay, something weird happened today.

When I was a little girl (I didn't ask my mother what I'd be, I was afraid of what she'd answer) we used to watch the Wonderful World of Disney every Sunday. We'd all sit down together, my parents, my sister and of course me. I don't know when Disney stopped being wonderful or airing family movies, but he did. I guess CTV or CBC has taken that up again in the last few years. Maybe they never stopped and I just stopped paying attention... Either way, there was a family movie time on TV and I sat with my parents to watch the movie. And yes, it was Disney. The Frog Princess to be more exact.

My dad had just finished watching 2012. The remote was closest to me so I picked it up and started looking for a new show. I noticed that the Frog Princess was on. I was curious about it, I hadn't seen it before and to be honest, I kind of miss the old school Disney animation. Not to mention all the hype over the first ever black Disney princess. To my immense surprise, my parents were on board. I believe their exact words were along these lines:

Dad: Huh, yeah, I'll give that a try. (Lauren's jaw drops)

Mom: Okay. (Lauren's jaw hits the floor)

My mom hates cartoons (I think she may have had a traumatic experience?) so getting an 'okay' out of her is pretty much like being told I've won a million dollars.

The movie progressed. There were moments when I was pretty sure I would have been a bit scared as a child. Then again, there were a ton of moments when all three of us were laughing out loud for an extended period of time. Granted, I was laughing more than my parents, but they joined in when the frog catchers were beating the crap out of each other. They also laughed pretty hard when the crazy bayou voodoo lady grabbed her walking stick... it was actually a snake.



Overall, I think it was a pretty cute movie. I liked the message, very fitting for a new generation of Disney Princesses. The Princess in this movie isn't a princess at all. She's a waitress who works two jobs so that she'll be able to buy and run her own restaurant (her dream). She's taught that wishing on stars is okay, but you have to do the work too. At the same time, she learns that work isn't everything.

Th standard Disney complaints still apply. The women are physically impossible representations of women. At the end, the heroine marries the Prince who does help her achieve her dream. At least in this one, the princess who works is the one who 'gets it all'. The bratty princess, while being far from evil, doesn't get the classic 'happily ever after'. What I liked though is that you see that the Prince is only helping her achieve her dream instead of achieving it for her. Her work does pay off. My personal issue with this movie is more a plot point. I have no idea what was up the villain's butt. There wasn't a whole lot of detail as to why he was evil. Moreover, the villain's sidekick kind of... disappears. Then again, I watched this on TV so that might have been edited out for time or content purposes.

I think we all liked it. So there you go. Parents, you will not want to kill yourselves watching this one with your kids.

Lauren.

Lessons from Bad Movies

My parents (I suspect my father more than my mother) are Clint Eastwood fans. I think we have almost every movie Clint Eastwood has ever acted in. Since I'm not really that big a fan, I haven't seen most of them. Today I got to see one. I wasn't really impressed. What Clint Eastwood movie did they dig out? The Eiger Sanction.

So, what's this movie about? Well, Clint Eastwood is part of some covert agency. He gets hauled out of retirement and given a mission. He has to kill the man who killed their man. This man was on a team of climbers planning to go up the Eiger in Switzerland. Realizing that he is not in shape to climb the mountain that nearly killed him twice, Clint Eastwood goes off to some desert resort to train with his old friend.

What did I learn from this movie?

1) When you've completed an insane uphill jog/hike with a backpack filled with supplies, you will require incentive to climb a vertical 30 foot rock face. You only have the clothes on your back and the items in your bag. For the purposes of this conversation, let's imagine that those items include a first aid kit, rope, a few power bars and some water. How do you motivate yourself to climb the rock face, knowing that you're exhausted and still have to hike/jog all the way back down to the resort? Give up? It's really quite simple.

You wait for your twenty year old guide to magically appear at the top of the rock face and disregard her hand gestures signalling that she wants you to climb up to her. Naturally, she will take off her shirt (she was running braless, because running braless is both logical and comfortable). Her above average sized breasts will provide you with the incentive to go forth! Just keep in mind, she may put her shirt back on and mysteriously disappear into the trees. You won't question her disappearance too much, after all, she is Native American. Yup, there were racist comments too! If he was too tired to climb the cliff before seeing her boobs, where was he planning on getting the energy to do anything with them? It's a valid question.

2) When a guy arrives at the resort fitting every gay stereotype imaginable, he's bad news. You're not afraid of the obviously gay guy sporting some patterned shirt with white shorts, a ton of jewellery, a tiny moustache, drinking a "dyke"erie and pawning his little dog conveniently named Faggot off on some barely dressed pool hooker? I wouldn't be either. But, you must be weary of him. He's the one who's going to entice your topless guide into attacking you. And if that's not enough, he travels with a prize winning boxer who wears really tight shirts. You'll be able to kill them both later.

3) When you finally get to the mountain you were supposed to be climbing, your best friend, the guy you were training with back in the desert, tells you that he's the bad guy and that your topless guide is his daughter! Awkward! You'll decide not to kill him as you were instructed because his reasons were good. You on the other hand, will nearly die again, climbing the stupid mountain and no, you won't make it to the top.

4) You can call a girl a bunch of racial slurs and then call her a hooker at the beginning of the movie but she'll come back to you by the end. She'll even book you a flight home and stay with you. As it turns out, her mission truly wasn't about seducing you. She does have feelings for you. What luck! You have feelings for her! And even better, she's young too!

I think Clint Eastwood has been making better movie choices since then... maybe. I'm not sure. He also directed that one. It was one of his earlier works... That can be the excuse. Just so you know, I'm leaving out the mysterious albino Mr. Dragon... that was a fun character. Don't think I'll be watching this movie again.

Lauren.

Weird Comparisons

I'm really tired. Woke up early today. I don't know why. Just couldn't sleep anymore.

Otherwise, I have to say that today was much better.

For instance, according to one of my professors: "Children are like hotdogs, when they're done, they're done." None of us had any idea what that had to do with anything. I still don't get the comparison. It was good for a laugh though. Personally, I like my hotdogs a little burnt. I don't think we're supposed to let children burn...

I also played Mario Kart with my sister. We're very competitive and the things she would come out with were quite funny. She was threatening dismemberment, boiling, pushing, flattening, what she's calling 'self-canibalism' (forcing the imaginary characters to eat their own intestines).... She's a lovely person, really.

AND! I can't discount the fact that I got a ride to and from school. Why is this such a wonderful thing? Because it was -35 here. I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy.

In any case, the weekend is here. I am going to relax, I'm going to sleep and I'm going to try getting ahead in my homework. Pft to the last but it's always nice to have goals.

Lauren.

I'm Sorry

I don't mean to be setting up a horribly depressing theme to my blog. I always thought of it as a relatively happy place. I started blogging with the intention of finding the silver lining in every day. I think for the most part, up until this year, I accomplished that. I'm failing miserably right now, I know. I'm just having a really hard time sitting down and thinking of positive things to say.

I only broke down crying seven times today?
I didn't cry for five hours straight?
I managed to laugh a genuine laugh?

Kind of backwards positive events... positive for negatives.

This might sound silly coming from a very mature, intelligent young woman, but losing Meeko, my cat, feels like I'm losing my best friend. And not peacefully or quickly and not with words of goodbye or understanding. I know, he's cat. I know that he wouldn't have spent the rest of my life with me, I just... I don't want to lose him now.

I'm afraid of people. People have hurt me... badly. Meeko's never hurt me. He always greeted me at the door, he sat with me while I wrote, he kept me company when I didn't get invited to go places or when I was too afraid to go places. He sat with me when I read and he always seemed to know when to pop up when I needed comfort. He'd make me laugh and he warmed up my feet. I don't know why but he always curled up near my feet. Most importantly, he let me be vulnerable and soft and I don't get to be like that with people. They always look at me funny or make some comment that makes me uncomfortable. But with Meeko, it was okay. And now I have a hard time looking at him. I'm just waiting for the day I'll come home and he'll be gone. Imagining euthanizing him makes me want to throw up.

I feel lost as it is...

Overly dramatic... maybe. Crazy cat lady... probably. I just don't want to lose my friend. I feel as though the fact that he's a feline is irrelevant.

And now you know where all the negative is coming from. Because I am atrocious at letting go of anything, let alone the very few people/pets/things I love.

I hope you'll all forgive me.

Lauren.

With an Ugh and a Blah and a Ha?

Not a good day. Not in the least.

I woke up and my shoulders were killing me. I don't recall what I did to incur the wrath of the shoulder gods, but it must have been bad. After that I decided that I was not going to school. After getting 13cm of snow, I had no intention of wading across unploughed sidewalks. My mom let me have the car so I ended up going to school. Got to love my resolve.

Thankfully, the roads weren't that bad and I made it home alright. This is the good part of my day. I wasn't home more than two hours when my dad announced that the vet called. Apparently the vets don't know what's wrong with Meeko and therefore, they can't treat him anymore, which has led them to believe that whatever he does have will not end well. I spent the remainder of the day crying. I may be dehydrated.

As of now, I'm watching Are You There, Chelsea? I don't know if it's as funny as I currently think it is or if it's stress, but right now, it's friggin' funny. The roommate makes the show. She's actually kind of reminding me of one of my friends... The debate over whether or not I truly find this show funny will have to be settled later. When my emotions go back to normal... ish.

Lauren.

Mixed Bag (No Candy)

Probably should have taken that mental health day I was talking about yesterday.

Not that today was a bad day. If I had to classify today, it would probably be as a mixed bag.

My first class was bleh, but that's not a real surprise. I think there might be a Dementor hiding in the ceiling of that classroom. I have two classes there, I'm in there four times a week and I don't usually enjoy that time.

My second and third classes were infinitely better. I have two professors for one of those classes and today, the one who doesn't usually teach us, did. She's very energetic and funny and she's prepared with things for us to actually look at. Most of the time we don't have to take notes. We literally just have to sit there and listen. I prefer her teaching style. Then again, I could be biased. I've known her quite a while and I happen to have gone to school with her daughter. I rather liked her daughter. Platonically. I really don't need that kind of awkward. Although... that would be the kind of thing that would happen to me.

In my third class, my professor invited a speaker to come to class. I thought she was really interesting. Although, once again, I'm going to have to acknowledge a bias. Let's just say I wasn't only interested in what she was saying. I'm a sucker for a girl who can quote constitutional law! I'm kidding. Sort of. It's kind of cool. I'm a history nerd. Don't judge me.

Either way, she eventually had us break up into groups (mistakenly believing that we don't do that often in teacher's college) and gave us an issue related to education. We were to debate the cases she presented. The cases were real. My group had to argue whether or not a math teacher who publicly denied the Holocaust but never spoke of his beliefs in class should be prevented from teaching. We ended up saying that it was his right  to say whatever he pleased (no matter how misguided) outside the classroom, so long as it didn't affect the learning environment. As it turns out, it did affect the classroom environment and he was fired. How one can deny the Holocaust is beyond my imagination, but there you go.

Finally, it was time to go home. Yeah, easier said than done. We're being hit with about 20cm of snow and it's really windy. Little tornadoes of snow keep cropping up. You can hear the wind trying to take down your house. The highway was closed. Good times. Oh, and it's cold. Sorry, forgot about that. Thankfully, God invented blankets.

The last part of my day was... surprising. Thanks to Glee (an aside to Jane Lynch and Dot Marie Jones, a lovely homage to those very unusual royal wedding hats) and about 70 000 other conversations had with friends, I discovered something about myself that I was not expecting.

Was it just me or was this episode particularly English?

That doesn't happen to me very often anymore. I'm not really thrilled about it at the moment. As for Glee, the word Rachel is looking for is: NO! (exclamation mark optional). WTF?!?! FABERRY SHIPPERS UNITE! THIS CANNOT STAND MUCH LESS GENUFLECT! Uh, while I'm on the topic of Quinn, where was she in this episode? I know where she should have been... auditorium, steel toe boots, behind Finn, kicking motion. Random note, loved Becky's inside voice. Very sophisticated.

Well, that's it for me. I'm off to ponder.

Lauren.

Mental Health Day

I don't know what to talk about today. I wasn't really... all there. I went to my classes, sat through them, listened occasionally, but mostly watched the clock. I don't know what's gotten into me, but I'm just uninterested in everything. Today for instance, I just wanted to lounge and read. I kind of makes me smile (inside) that when I feel like crap, when I'm unhappy, all I really need is a comfy chair, a blanket and a book and everything just goes away. I believe that's what the infamous "they" call a mental health day. I think I could use one... It's strange. I don't usually get the academic blahs (I use the term academic loosely) until mid February. 

Lauren.

Slush War

I hate slush. Not the kind that you eat, that stuff is kind of delicious for being crushed ice and syrup. I'm talking about the crap that accumulates under your car.

I had to get to a meeting today so I asked my parents if I could borrow my mom's car. They agreed. About twenty minutes before the meeting was to start, I pulled on my coat, my boots and grabbed my purse. I unlocked the car, adjusted the mirrors and left.

I drove down the road until I got to the ramp that would get me on the highway. That's when I first heard it. A strange crunching sound. I didn't think much of it given that the ramp was still snow covered. Snow frequently crunches under tires. I got onto the highway and drove for a few minutes before approaching my turn. I signalled, waited for two transports to pass and turned. Again, I heard the crunch. I was about five minutes from school so I decided that I would deal with it then. The thing about this road is that it's pretty much the stereotypical country road. Ruts, washboarding, bumps, potholes, you name it, it's there. Rather than fixing these problems, our ever intelligent city council decided that putting up warning signs was sufficient... but I'm not going there. When I got to the first chasm, I heard something hitting, then scraping against the asphalt. Not a sound you want to hear normally. I heard it a few more times. When I completed the required left, right and left turn, the crunching returned. I parked and got out of the car.

I discovered two things.

1) I'd run into the snowbank (Oops...)
2) There was so much slush around the wheels that there was practically no room for the tire to move.

What to do? What to do? Well, duh. I proceeded to kick the crap out of my car. I imagine it looked pretty funny. No only was there a ton of slush on each wheel, it was frozen there so I was really kicking. I hacked at it with the underside of my foot. When that didn't work, I bashed at it with my heel. I tried numerous angles. It took a couple of minutes, but it worked. Except on the front right tire. I kicked with arms flailing and that shit was not moving. I gave up and went to my meeting.

Not my car, but imagine that around all the tires. How I didn't notice before is a mystery.

About an hour later, I returned more determined. I think the sun helped out a bit. This time I kicked higher up with the intention of removing what I could and leaving the rest. As it turned out, this was a brilliant strategy. I got it all! Given how huge this clump was, I took it out from under the car.

I was ready to go and basking in the glow of my minor success. I started backing up but found that I was stuck. I gave it more gas and slowly crushed the slush heap that had caused me so many problems. I made sure to look at my parking space, now littered with heaps of brown, sandy, ice, before leaving I had to laugh at the amount there was. It was ridiculous.

The drive home was silent. Success! My feet hurt. Fail!

Lauren.

The Hair Product Question

I have a question. I haven't written about a question in a while so here it is: What is with hairdressers and product?

I was up at the crack of dawn today (okay, definitely not the crack, but some time shortly thereafter) because my mom and aunt decided to book me another hair appointment. They get their hair done at a salon about forty five minutes outside of town. We got there sometime around 9:30ish and by the time their stylist had finished the chemistry experiment that is hair colour, it was about 10:00. While my relatives were curing in the back, I got to hop in the chair for a trim. I don't think he took off much more than an inch this time.

Either way, he put some spray crap in my hair that is supposed to do 15 different jobs. Kind of impressive. I only ever managed to do four jobs at a time and I'm not in mist form. Then he put white crap in my hair that looked like aerosol snow. Very appealing. He scrunched my hair and brushed it and chucked it this way and that with his comb. More crap went into my hair. I don't know what it was supposed to do, but it disappeared into the rapidly forming rat's nest on my head. I mean, what hair duties could have been neglected by that point? Fifteen jobs were being accomplished by the misty stuff, I'm almost positive the aerosol snow was for volume. WHAT ELSE IS THERE!?

My hair is extremely curly. Like the kind of curly people have to pay for. All I have to do is let it air dry and I can have Shirley Temple ringlets. I'm not even exaggerating. As soon as he cuts a piece of my hair off, it bounces into a perfect circle before it hits the floor. Imagine what my hair does when a defuser is applied to it. When he finished defusing, I looked in the mirror and the first thing I thought was "Good God don't let him be finished."  He wasn't. He twisted some of my hair back and started bobby-pinning. He was explaining his pinning procedure as he went. Because I'm an ass, I said :"So you can use those to do more than unlock doors! Fascinating!" Oddly enough, I don't think he understood that I was kidding and continued to explain that while they were good for opening doors, they were excellent for pinning hair back and also for hurting people. I paid more attention to the latter.

When he was done, I thought a bird would come flying at me with a sign reading "Home Sweet Home". Before my avian friends could move in however, the stylist fumigated with about a gallon of hairspray. Now not only did my hair look sort of nest-like, it had the texture of twigs. Thank goodness there are no smoking laws. I may not have lived otherwise...

The way he styled it was a bit much for me. My aunt and mom told me it looked nice though. You probably won't be able to envision that given my descriptions. It wasn't actually bad, just... not really my taste. The cut is fine though.

After all that, the first thing I did when I got home was shower. My hair felt gross. Like foreign, dry, twiggy, crunchy, curly, brown stuff that just happened to be attached to my head. I was relieved to see it  (and feel it go) back to normal.

So, I ask, what is up with all the product? I know they're trying to sell it, but I think it made my head more itchy than anything else. That's not really an enticing factor. Is there a minimum one tonne of product utilization rule? Or, is it more personal? He knows I'm lazy... he probably knew I'd be itching (literally as it turned out) to redo my hair. Was all the product his attempt at stopping me? I mean really, does anyone like having that much junk in their hair? Would anyone really take the time to do that daily? Not that I would know, but it mustn't be very romantic to run your fingers through hair that audibly crunches.

These are my question.

Also, a much better day on the Meeko front. The poor guy had to go back to the vet. They did sedate him, they did a scope thing all the way to his lungs and they couldn't find anything. So, there is something, but we don't know what. If they can't see it and his habits haven't changed aside from the sniffling, I don't think it can be that bad. We're hoping his snuffliness clears up with antibiotics. Regardless, I'm relieved.

Lauren.

Shitty Day

Can't say that today was an especially good day.

Just like every other Friday, I started school at 8:30. The downside, aside from being tired, is that my professor decided to play Loreena McKennitt to demonstrate how poetry and music go together. I like Loreena McKennit but listening to her, with the lights off, while tired, not a great idea.

After another two fantastic hours of class, I had to walk home. It was windy and really freaking cold. I almost slipped a fell five times. Arm flailing helps with maintaining balance. It does little to maintain dignity. Then again, I suppose my dignity would suffer a lot more if I actually fell.

My ass finally started to unthaw by the time my dad came home about two hours later. Meeko's been having a hard time breathing lately. He sounds like he's trying to breathe through a clogged straw. It's been particularly bad the last few days so we finally took him back to the vet. Visit number 4. About 500$ later, Meeko was at last sort of diagnosed. It's either a tumour in his larynx or he has some kind of paralysis in the area of his larynx. Regardless of what it is, there's pretty much nothing to be done. He's relatively okay, aside from sounding atrocious and the super positive diagnosis. So, as you can imagine, great cap to the day. He was given an anti-inflamatory. We're supposed to wait until tomorrow to see if it helped. If it hasn't, the vet wants to sedate him and take a closer look.

Obviously, I'm most upset about Meeko. Upset probably isn't the best word, but it's the word that will keep me from losing it again.

Yup, fan-friggin'-tastic day.

Lauren.

Read to Me Computer!

My Spec Ed class is no more. I am saddened. I now have to attend Psychology of Education or something along those lines. During our first class, my new prof let us play with text to speech software. One of the programs was Say It Save It. To be honest, I don't really understand why one would use this program. It doesn't seem to be very flexible. Then again, it's probably cheaper than Kurzweil.

This program is ridiculously easy to use. It's a matter of copying and pasting text into it. Therein lies its inflexibility. At the same time, and I have no idea why, but they have a greater variety of voices. Sure there was Alex and Victoria and that other guy who's always bopping around, but they also had voices Kurzweil didn't. I can't imagine why a program like Kurzweil would omit these voices! Perhaps you can enlighten me.

The following recordings were created using Say It Save It. The text comes from an interview that my friend wrote up for one of her school projects. I don't know why, but she thought I was interesting.

Version 1: Cello

Version 2: Good News

Version 3: Bad News

So, what's the deal Kurzweil? Too busy being all educational and stuff? 

If I was entertained, I'm pretty sure a teenager or elementary kid would find this hilarious. Begging the question: Why?

This is what I did to amuse myself today. Don't judge me. Judge B.Ed. Besides, you know you were always wondering what it would be like to have Death read like this for you.

Lauren.

Circle Back on Berry

I had an interesting experience today. I don't know if it will be of any interest to you, but for me, it was interesting. After school, I froze my ass off (unfortunately not literally) waiting for a bus. When it at last arrived, I wound up sitting with a girl from my history class. We've had classes together throughout the last few years but we've never really spoken until this year. Ah, the nature of university classes!

Anyway, she asked me what I was doing with the rest of my day. I told her I only had to mail my grad school applications. Well, that was a conversation starter! I admit, it surprises me now when people don't know that I write. I'm so used to people just somehow knowing. Beside the point. She started asking me question after question and the only thing I could think of was something Angela said to me a few years ago when we got onto the topic of my writing. "I know you love it, your eyes light up." I knew my eyes must have been lit up.

Among all the other crazy things I've been thinking and feeling this year, I haven't felt a whole lot of 'lighting up' if you will. I got off the bus at my stop, walked across the parking lot of certain death, survived and mailed off my application. As I walked home, I was listening to Glee on my new MP3 player (may I keep this one out of the washing machine). I don't know how to say this without sounding like a complete ass, but as I was listening to Lea Michele belting out "Get it Right", I couldn't help but feel like I don't belong here. It's actually a feeling I've had for at least a year now... have you ever felt... too big for where you are? Like you not only want more but need it, crave it to the point that you can actually feel a hungry ache in your chest? It's a hard feeling to put aside and it makes so many of my daily activities feel utterly pointless. Don't get me wrong, I love my hometown. I've lived here 22 years. It's just, there's nothing here that I want. I feel like my hometown is my grandpa sweater. It's comfy, it's warm, it always smells really good for some bizarre reason, but it doesn't really fit anymore. It's stretched in places, I've grown (in places... not the good places either)...

All of this led me to thinking about Rachel Berry and why I love her but some of my family members can't stand her. I need to get out of here, I need to unleash my voice (though mine will be on paper to spare the world another tragedy), when it comes to my talent, I'm driven to the point of being single minded. I trust you see the parallels. My family on the other hand are all content here. They all have ties. They all have what they want and need. Their drive doesn't have to take them away. Part of me envies that. I guess what it comes down to though is that they can't stand Rachel because they don't understand what it's like.

I get told I don't understand a lot of things (usually people related things), but if there's one thing I do understand it's wanting more and needing it for yourself. My parents still don't understand why I need to do this. They keep suggesting programs in town that have no bearing on what I want to do, thinking I'm just being stubborn. They make it into a personal issue, me escaping them. They make it into a financial issue, me throwing around money I could spend here. It's neither and no matter how I explain it, they don't seem to get it.

Is it the curse of the driven to not be understood? To be different? To be lonely but always able to push that sentiment aside for the sake of "all in good time".

See what I mean, lots of stuff going on in my head these days. And for some reason, it's circling back on Glee. I may need some... how did Kaley Cuoco put it... Gleehab?

Lauren.