Triathlete

My neighbor across the street drives a maroon mini van. I just thought I'd state that detail.

In terms of being an active person, she is the complete opposite. She has a Stop-n-Shop truck deliver food to the house on a biweekly basis.  She also has housekeepers come to her house on a weekly basis. While one could say that those are simply signs of affluence rather than inactiveness, I also never see this woman outside of her house. She has two young children and a pet dog. I never see her playing outside with the children or even walking the dog. The dog sits on the lawn, ambles around, and then goes back inside the house. An "invisible electric fence" keeps the dog within the lawn area.

Anyway, on the back bumper of the caravan are two stickers. One sticker proudly proclaims "13.1" (half marathon). The other sticker simply says "Triathlete."

I'm all for people accomplishing goals, but if someone runs a half-marathon and has a bumper sticker stating triathlete status, that person shouldn't walk around looking like a frump in her oversized t shirts and tight "yoga" pants.

Just sayin'. 

Extremes

In regard to Facebook, I guess I can't complain about the stupid posts people write if I am the one who chooses to read them. Sometimes though, what people see as "best," "worst," or "disaster" simply serves to make me laugh.

A recent acquaintance posted the following: The worst thing happened. I needed to make pesto sauce before the basil went bad. The awful part was I had to put it in the fridge for tomorrow because I have a dentist appointment in the pm and I couldn't offend the dentist! I guess I will be happy tomorrow .

That whole "travesty" is so insignificant and laugh-worthy. There's tons of my friends who don't even have dental insurance and who would love to have the quandary of having pesto-breath before their dentist appointments.

This is the same girl who posted a photo of her new, gleaming Sub-Zero fridge and posted something along the lines of: Oh my gosh! I am so happy!

People really need to start getting their priorities straight...or they simply need to acquire more intelligence. 

On a side note, the woman I am speaking about is a teacher and constantly misuses words or makes grammatical mistakes---and stupid grammatical mistakes at that---we're talking your vs. you're. 

People like that embarrass me. 

Encroachment

Two of our good friends recently purchased a home. Yesterday was move in day. Their house has over a half acre of land. In most parts of the U.S.,  a half acre is nothing, but in NJ it is considered palatial estate space. Half of an acre! 

The lawn was miraculously bright emerald green, despite the recent lack of rainfall. There were not really fences in the neighborhood and the houses were spaced apart so that privacy was a reality.

I don't think John notices it, but I zone in so much on the noises of my neighborhood. During the weekdays, I hear three or four different sanitation companies' trucks riding up and down our street. That beeping noise that indicates a backing up motion of the truck aggravates me. I zone in on my neighbor training his dog to run back and forth across the small expanse of the backyard. I notice the intermittent stop-and-go of the postal office delivery truck. I hear weed whackers, lawn mowers, and so on. Most of the noise is machine-made, not human-made.

I don't see myself as the rural/country type, but you never know your thresholds until you experience them. I'm looking forward to an eventual next phase in life---where I feel like I can go outside, breathe, exhale, and not hear noise. There has to be some nature enthusiast hidden somewhere inside of me. 

Lazy

Oh my god. I was so incredibly lazy today. Sometimes I think that if I had a summer job, it would be beneficial because I'd be forced to "do something with my day." Then I get angry with myself for thinking that I need a job in order to "do something with my day."

It's almost 7pm now and the largest accomplishment of my day has been watching many consecutive episodes of Roseanne. I next plan on heading to the gym for a bit. I'm not planning anything too strenuous, just walking for 45 minutes or so and listening to some music.

I think I am starting to get into a summer funk---getting antsy, nervous, annoyed with the prospect of school starting up again. Having summers off is amazing, but I think it makes it more difficult to segue back into the work routine. I'll have to wear my "teacher clothing" (if I fit into it) and be energized at 7:40am.

I own a tshirt that proclaims "Procrastinators Unite!!...Tomorrow." All too often, I put off things that I could have easily done today. I might have to lean a little more toward the type A personality route and start jotting down daily tasks in my planner. Lame. 

Safari Barbie

It is amazing how a thought can be out of the human mind, almost forgotten, and then tons of memories can be ignited when one sees a single object or image.

Yesterday, we went to Scranberry Coop, a consignment-style shop featuring 100+ booths of various goods.

Instantly, I saw objects that made me think of memories from childhood. I saw a basket-style tumbler (Melmac--after some research) that made me think of my grandmother. She had those tumblers throughout my childhood, in addition to the Welch's jam jars that converted into drinkware. The store also had tons of limited edition glasses from McDonald's. The limited edition drinkware usually celebrated a new film such as Star Wars or The Great Muppet Caper. The store also has an abundant supply of Russ trolls. I remember those being popular when I was younger.

The biggest "Ooh" moment, however, occurred when I saw a Barbie doll. She was labeled as "disco Barbie," which could not be further from her actual title: Animal Lovin' Safari Barbie. She wears a gold lamee halter top, gold and pink leopard vest & matching ruffled mini-skirt, and pink hiking boots with a heel. She also has a gold fish-net style hair bandana.

As a young girl, I didn't own tons of Barbies. I preferred art toys like Etch A Sketch or Video Painter. I totally remember having that Safari Barbie though. In retrospect, the doll's outfit is hilarious. Even more hilarious is the accessory kit that is offered for the Safari Barbie. I looked online and saw that the accessory kit contained a pink picnic table, pink cooler, radio, pots, pans, and bamboo-style dish drying rack. I'd give Mattel much more credit if Safari Barbie came with a 12 gauge shotgun, a buck knife, and emergency malaria medicine.

I guess the California "safari" terrain is quite a bit different from the African Plains.

Shaking on a Monday

I had three cups of coffee this morning. I tried going light on the amount of sugar and cream. Last December, I went on a low-sugar kick and drank black coffee. I'd like to get back into that routine.

Right now, my hands are actually lightly shaking. It's 12:37 and I am energized, even if artificially, for the day. The past week at Artist/Teacher Institute has been amazing, but my eating habits were totally off-kilter. I don't want to step on a scale, but I can imagine the havoc I have wreaked. Last night, I watched an episode of Extreme Weight Loss Makeover on ABC. If the 543 pound guy on the show could eat 2000 calories daily and have ultra crazy workouts, I think I can get back to my good habits and eat healthier, in addition to going to the gym.

I am almost the same weight I was in early college---not good.

Here's to shaky hands and the start of better habits!

Delia's Wishes

I love the word corpulent. It surpasses fat, heavy, big-boned, obese, overweight, any plump. Corpulent tells it like it is-- utter gluttony and sloth embodied in rolls of flesh.

In high school, I was corpulent. I did not have the advantage that some "fat" girls have---large breasts and a large ass. Corpulent girls do not get those benefits.

I wore guys' clothing because it was easier to find 38 waist pants than to step foot into a Lane Bryant. I wore guys' boxers "with the dick holes" as I so eloquently describe them. I wore cottony bras that were one step above the flattening effects of sports bras, but were nowhere near the sexiness of bras with lace or see-through effects. I wore horizontally-striped shirts sized for men.

Today, I got a Delia's catalog in the mail. Delia's can be found in most malls and has been in existence since my teen years. Sassy magazine (RIP) used to always have Delia's ads.

Two years ago, I ordered comic book style Converse from Delia's and have been on the mailing list since. NONE of this clothing would really ever fit me. Although I weigh less than I did in high school and am more plump than corpulent, Delia's clothing is juniors fit. It is meant for lanky, awkward, curveless girls. I could probably shimmy into an XL tee, but anything else from the store would not fit me properly. The clothing is also inappropriate in that many shirts are flirty and midriff-baring. Other shirts have cute slogans or are silkscreened with images of One Direction band members. You can proclaim your love for all of One Direction or for an individual band member. The styles of jeans have names like Morgan, Perry, and Jordin--- names that would fit bitchy girls in high school cliques. Delia's carries the size of double zero.

Although the only thing I have ever purchased from this company is a pair of shoes, I still feel compelled to remain on the subscription list. Part of the reasoning is nostalgic and part of the reasoning is wishful thinking. I think that part of me hopes to one day "get in shape" enough to wear Delia's clothing. Bodies can't be time machines though.

At least I can always fit into their jewelry. 

Non-mechanical side

I find that in modern society that having too many choices is completely overwhelming. I realize that that idea is nothing new or enlightening. Best said in the words of author Barry Schwartz, there is a "paradox in choice." Choices seem like a positive thing, but when there are a myriad of choices for every category of possession, it can be daunting.

We did a small remodel on our bathroom one year ago. Finally, I decided on an over-the-toilet organizer to purchase. This should not have been something that required me to search endlessly. However, with the variety of sites out there, I did not choose an organizer until a few days ago.

The package arrived yesterday, left outside our front door. I felt proud enough for taking the bulky, cumbersome cardboard box inside. Today, I decided to put the organizer together. Using something a day after receiving it is "not my style." Usually, once I purchase something, it will rest in its cardboard housing for days and days, until I finally decide to open it. Delayed gratification, I suppose.

The box hailed: "15 minute assembly! No tools required!" Of course, I remained hyperaware of the time, so as to see how well I fit into the over-the-toilet-organizer-assembly population.

As I started putting the pieces together, within minutes I was uttering curses under my breath. The directions spoke of buttons with tapered ends and push buttons---what the hell? While trying to get one piece into another, I had a sudden premonition that one of the satin nickel rods would suddenly burst out of its correct spot and impale me. The directions were written in a detailed way and were numbered, yet they remained frustrating.

I finally got the organizer put together in 20 minutes, with 33% more time needed than the average assembler (if my math is correct). I relied on the assembly method that worked during much of my childhood when I had to put together Barbie houses, She-ra castles, and other domiciles for fictitious characters: looking at the colorful picture on the front box.

The directions recommend anchoring the organizer to the wall... I think I'm just going to play over-the-toilet-organizer roulette and hope that the China-made tower doesn't tumble down on me.

Gym pigs

The gym is the source of much fascination for me. When I am on the treadmill, I go into ADD mode. I observe all of the people weightlifting (and taking an unproportionate amount of drinks breaks in comparison to painstaking workout time) and stare at the ceiling tiles and mammoth air conditioning units as if they were some new, innovative product.

When I am at the gym, I also notice patterns in behavior.

A common pattern is people getting off the treadmills and other cardio machines and not turning off the TV. This bothers me. I hate being on a treadmill and then having a line of empty treadmills beside me with flashing images. I am the gym's good samaritan who turns off all of the unused television sets.

One main pattern I see is in regard to gym "machine etiquette." People that are running maniacally, truly sweating all over the handgrips of the machines, have a tendency to NOT spray the machines down. The pattern of non-spraying also stems from very attractive and/or muscular people. I envision them getting off the treadmill and thinking in their minds, "Fuck it. I'm too good looking to follow the etiquette."

Sandcastles in the air

The mind is quite enigmatic at times. Just now, for instance, I started thinking about a sandcastle figurine that I used to want. These figurines are nothing special, simply plaster covered over with sand and glittery fragments, in the shape of a sandcastle. Some of the castles have blue or pink glitter and some of the castles are shanties while other are mansions. Overall though, these castle figurines are available at any tourist destination near a beach.

There was a store close to my childhood home and it sold these sandcastles. The store also sold overpriced jewelry boxes, necklaces, and picture frames made out of beautiful seashells that were not indigenous to NJ. Outside of the store, when you drove and passed by, you'd be greeted by bright pink, blue, green, and yellow tubes and rafts in the shapes of various animals. In short, this store was a cheesy tourist trap and, being that I was "local," I never actually purchased anything in it. I'd stop in and get entranced by all of the merchandise, but I never bought anything.

A few weeks ago, I saw a sandcastle figurine at the Goodwill Store. I could have purchased it, but it just didn't seem "right." That kind of purchase needs to be made from a cheesy tourist shop.

On a whim, I used GoogleMaps to track the route I would have needed to take to the tourist store. Whenever I went there, it was in a car, since I was terrified of riding my bike on Route 9. The route is 1.5 miles! I hardly ever drive down to Ocean County anymore but the next time I am near there, I am going to stop by that little tourist shop and pay a ridiculous price for a sandcastle shanty.

Habits and observations

First, the "new" (it's probably been out for over a year, but I waited until they "forced me" before I moved over to the new format) Blogger set up is annoying. It's all white space, icons, and confusion.

I must get back into the habit of blogging and, in general, writing. Too many times I doubt myself and then spend time belittling myself instead of simply writing. Somehow, I feel that self-doubt is a common writer's ailment.

If you pay attention and take life's moments at a slower pace (extremely challenging if you live on the East Coast in the tristate area), those small moments and observations will inevitably make you smile.

Today I went for a quick walk around the lake. There had been a pair of swans gliding across the lake in February.  Now, months later, and there are grey Cygnets traveling with them. I had noticed the baby swans about a month ago, but never stopped to really watch them. Today, I stood at the edge of the lake and got a view of the mother swan bobbing her head up and down in search of food. The baby swans (now significantly bigger than they were one month ago) followed her lead and bobbed their heads up and down too. A few minutes later, the two "parental swans" led the way and the baby swans followed behind, single-file.

When I was in Aldi, waiting on the line to the register, a woman turned to me and said, "Beach day tomorrow," while pointing at her groceries. On the conveyer belt were chips, rice cakes, other carb-heavy foods, beverage containers, and a few other miscellaneous items. I smiled back and said, "I might go too, if the weather is nice." On my way out of the store, she said, "Have fun." It seemed like she truly just needed someone to talk to and tell about her exciting adventure. Kind of pitiful, but kind of sweet too.

Lastly, I am a admirer of words and those who use them well. At the gas station, the attendant who was helping me uttered, "Have a good evening." People rarely use the word evening. We need to bring that word back into vogue.

Getting Childhood Wants

Kids in America are "branded;" they do not desire winter boots, sunglasses, or sweatsuits. Instead, they desire Uggs, Ray Bans, and Juicy Couture sets.

When I was a kid, there certainly were material items that I desired. I recall wanting this ridiculous (in retrospect, of course) pair of cowgirl-style boots. They were white, white white fringe and small pseudo-turqouise embellishments. I have no idea as to what compelled me to desire those boots.  I remember they were expensive for the time, either $50 or $100...and I remember splitting the cost with my mother...probably with monies from a birthday or a holiday.

There were tons of other items that I desired, but never got.  The amazing thing is that those items that were expensive, in the early 90s, are now being sold exponentially cheaper at "deep discount" chain stores. It's amusing because, if desired, I could get all of those items that I desired in my youth for similar 1990s-esque prices. Kind of like some weird nostalgia time machine.

Brands that come to mind:

Airwalk shoes and sandals--now sold at Payless

Goofy JoeBoxer prints--now at Kmart

Starter athletic apparel--now at Walmart

OP-- now at Walmart

Mossimo--now at Target

I have yet to find a store that sells HyperColor clothing though:(

Metaphors for teaching in 2012

It isn't that there have been more meetings than usual, but it just seems lately that the union meetings and board of education meetings leave me feeling upset. Often, midway through the meeting, i'll take my index and middle fingers and check my pulse. My pulse is usually racing, frustrated, angry, and a myriad of other emotions intertwined. 

This leads me to metaphors for teaching in 2012:

1. Every day that I teach, I walk on a tightrope.

2. Every word that I utter is analyzed, microscopically, from each child in the room. They know how "sue-crazy" and PC-minded that our society is, to a fault. 

3. With all of the emphasis on testing and scores, I am basically an educational robot.

Reunited

At karaoke tonight, while I was looking through the binder of songs, someone came over to me and uttered: "I think I know you from somewhere." I enjoy having this line said to me because, as experiences have shown me, I have a "familiar face." When I went to college for undergrad, I apparently had a close resemblance to someone named Debbie, who had graduated a few years ahead of me. On more than one occasion, people on campus would ask me if I was Debbie's sister or relative. 

The girl continued on and asked, "Did you go to Kinnelon High?...CSE?" Bam, apparently we went to the same college. It doesn't seem like a big deal but when your tiny college has a graduating class of 230 students, I guess it does seem to be a big deal. 

The whole situation was just odd because her face did not look familiar, yet she recognized me from across the room. She also said, "You wouldn't know me; we ran in different circles."  That comment made me laugh-- how can there be that many circles or cliques when you're dealing with 230 people? 

Honestly, it was just a self-indulgent moment; I don't desire to be recognized all the time. In fact, when I am at a mall or something and see students from a distance, I tend to immediately walk in the opposite direction. This was a nice moment though.... 

Current Children

I feel sad for the current generation. Each day, I try my best to teach and to share knowledge. I recognize that even though I am the teacher, I can still learn from the life experiences and thoughts of 13 year olds. I try to remain open-minded. Sometimes, although not often, I am surprised by the insightful questions asked by students or the riveting tidbits that they already know.

When I come home from school, after the "work day" is done, I still ponder various aspects of whatever lesson I taught that day. I can't help it. Right now, I am teaching Anne Frank to 8th grade and Lois Lowry's Giver to 7th grade. Empathy for all victims of the Holocaust, as well as victims of other tragic deaths, persist in my mind. I contemplate the society that Lowry poses in Giver. I try to NOT think about topics I have taught during the day, but it just happens---those thoughts circulate in my mind. I guess it shows that I am a "good teacher" or (significantly less self-indulgent) that I simply care about my job.

Sadly, I think that a lot of today's students do not think carefully about issues and topics being posed to them. Case in point---a class reading from today mentioned how women at the concentration camps were not "permitted" to get pregnant. Somehow, babies still were born at these camps; one can assume that women were impregnated from sexual assaults and rapes. I mentioned this fact to my students and one of them commented, "It's not like that bad stuff happened to us. It's ok if we have happy lives."

Kids don't get the point. One can easily say, Oh, some kids just need to grow up and mature, but I think that's a cop-out. 13 years old and without empathy? It's a pretty bleak picture for future generations; at least they'll be able to accessorize their empathy-less selves with Coach purses, Ugg boots, Juicy hoodies, and Abercrombie jeans.

Fat Bottomed Girls

I used to think that Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls" was inappropriate. Over the years, I've grown to like the song and find it to be a lively celebration of...girth.

Honestly though, there are some of us who look good fat and some of us who desperately need to shed some pounds in order to keep our attractiveness intact. I had a friend in high school named Stephanie. She was heavy all of her life. Facebook photos show that she is still quite heavy today. She "carries it well" though. Her body curves in the right spots and her face features full lips and round cheeks. She looks good heavy. People like her are rarities, but some women can pull off being heavy. I don't condone heaviness, just because of health factors. For beauty factors though, some fat bottomed girls are beautiful.

Me, as a fat bottomed girl, is a definite no-no. When I gain weight, my already small eyes become smaller, surrounded by fat in my face. My breasts stay small, as my stomach increases in its protrusion. My hips have always been prominent, but when I gain weight, there are extra mounds of fat, indentations that go back and forth, giving my waist and hip area a rippled effect.

All of these thoughts came to mind because I was trying on dresses at the mall this afternoon. At this point in time, clothing fits me awkwardly. Due to my recent increased penchant for beer and junk food, I feel crummy. Today was my first day back at the gym in a week+. I didn't overly exert myself, but it was pleasant to be on the treadmill with just music, my thoughts, and my feet moving.

I aspire to be an average bottomed girl.

I'm fucking old...ish

I love putting the suffixes -ish and -esque at the end of words. It gives finite words a sense of vagueness. It's also a copout for choosing a more accurate word for what one wants to say.

I'm still doing the daily poetry prompts. Instead of posting them here, I'll just post them at the prescribed site:http://3030poetry.com/

Anyway, I uttered a simple question in class today and, upon having no students' hands affirmatively raised, I came to the conclusion: I'm old...ish.

We were discussing use of the vocab word "recuperation." I described the first real-world example that came to mind, Gloria Estefan's bus tour accident in the early 1990s. I asked, "Has anyone here heard of Gloria Estefan?" Not one hand went in the air. I added, "She was popular in the late 80s and early 90s. She is like Jennifer Lopez from previous years."

At home, I googled "Coming Out of the Dark," her hit 1991 single. The song has fairly cheesy symbolism and metaphors and features an overly dramatic choir in the background. Nonetheless, listening to the song made me smile. It makes me think of other hit songs by Estefan: "Cuts Both Ways" (beautiful love ballad), "Bad Boys" (the video featuring large 80s hair and eyebrows, in addition to men costumed as cats), and so on.

So..maybe I am oldish...music videos from my "youth" are awesomely hilarious...and gray hairs do not matter...if I spy any within my mousy brown hair, I just snag them out. 

Animatronic Head

30/30 Poem of the Day

Animatronic Head

Driving on NJ highways is best done

with an animatronic mind.

Stare straight ahead at the expanse of asphalt,

gemmed with small splinters of glass.

Keep the speedometer between 65 and 70,

the neon orange dial slowly seesawing.

Pay the other drivers no attention

and simply bob your head back and forth,

a pendulum moving to the beat of a song

heard one thousand times before.

Stay unaware of the line of tail lights

signaling the long pathway to your destination.

You realize that the machine mindset will bring

the most success

and the least frustration.

But human nature can’t stop you from

noticing the vibrant wildflowers

on the side of the highway,

scattered as if someone made a bet

as to whether or not he could make you smile. 

30/30 Challenge... a few days late

Read a blog post about a poetry writing challenge for April. The idea is to compose a poem each day of the month. I found a site, http://wordxwordfestival.com/challenge/index.html, that gives daily prompts for writers. While the idea of using prompts bothers me (I'd much rather come up with my own ideas), it does help with getting the writing process started.

This is my poem for 4/5...and yes, I realize that today is 4/6. The prompt was "then and now."

Then and Now

Alert, curious azure eyes taking in her surroundings

Straying eyes that look for escapes from reality

Words sputtering from a mouth, bubble-like, one after another

Thoughts perpetually contained, anxious and unrefined

Digital numbers inviting her to welcome the day’s possibilities

Mind-numbing lists of tasks to do and people to tolerate

Roads to traverse, feeling newly turned earth beneath her feet

Old, cracked dirt piled atop her dreams.  

City jitters

Most people have a consensus of what cities are like: crowded, louder than the 'burbs, busier, and with more things to do.  My conception of the city is: pure and utter chaos, droves of people streaming into one another, ridiculous expenses, and lots of things to do.

I think I am partially cursed, in that our nearest "big city" is New York City. According to worldatlas.com, NYC is the fourth most populated city in the world, with over 19 million people---and this is the city I have to live near?!

We have visited other U.S. cities and enjoyed them. Chicago (6 million population) seemed easy to navigate. If you got "lost," you did not feel like you were utterly screwed. We could tell when we were walking into a "bad section," but in actuality, it did not feel all that dangerous or threatening. Parking right by Cubs Stadium was crazy cheap. The people were nice too. We've been to Milwaukee (whoa- population under 600,000!). That was a comical experience. We wanted to visit a brewery and with out NYC state of mind we scrambled for the first parking spot we saw. We proceeded to walk about 3/4 mile to the brewery, only to find copious parking spaces in front of the brewery. We've been to Charleston, Savannah, D.C., and other cities and have had pleasant experiences.

But NYC--utter chaos.

We went there yesterday for a day trip, which I'll go into more detail next time...I just wish we were in closer proximity to a different city. I'd take Charleston. What I remember about Charleston is the eerie sounds of large bugs skittering across the sidewalks at night. Other than that, it was a quiet and polite city.