Idiot Parade

And my eyes want to bleed battery acid.

To sum up the first five chapters:

“I hate Forks and the cold and the snow, and I’m going to pontificate about how I don’t fit in, and Edward’s pretty, but I think he might hate me, or maybe he likes me, I’m going to stare at him some more. Pretty pretty Edward.”

Honestly and truly, I went into this thinking that maybe I was being too hard on Myer and her fangirls, and that maybe I’d actually get into the story. I was prepared to swallow my pride and admit that I liked the book. And maybe something will change between chapter 5 and the end. I could still be wrong. Maybe it’ll stop sucking more than a disease-ridden crackwhore.

Look at me being Miss Optimistic with sunshine and rainbows coming out my butt. I blame all the May Revelling.

I need help.

There are just some things that I can’t do on my own.

I am trying so hard to not be suspicious or jealous. I am trying to keep my baggage in check. I am constantly reminding myself that I can’t assign every wrong that’s been committed against me to this new relationship. I repeat, over and over in my head, that this one won’t leave just because the others did. That is a leap of faith that I don’t know if I can make by myself.

The rational, thinking me knows these things. She understands. She is confident and sure and knows that everything is fine. Better than fine. She acknowledges that we’re still new, and she can’t be the Most Important Person after only a month. But the other part…the other part is weighed down by her glaring inexperience in these matters, never having an adult relationship that lasted more than two months. She is jumpy and frightened and constantly on the verge of tears because she’s waiting for God to spit in her face and take this away from her, too. She isn’t okay. And I don’t know how to bring that one from her darkness and move her closer to reality.

I need help.

Been a bit lax on the Sunday specials, but I found more lovely faire vendors with all sorts of pretties!

That is the Lyndriel Dress from Ravenswood Leather, and someday, it shall be mine.

Finally told one of my oldest and best friends that I have a boyfriend. I’d been putting off because of our history, and because I know that he still wants to be with me, even though the time for that passed many years ago. It’s not as though I could keep it from him, though, and I didn’t want to….but, really, it was a bit like telling a small child that Santa Claus had died from choking on one of the bones of the freshly roasted Easter Bunny. I don’t like hurting people’s feelings.

Speaking of Easter…went to Easter Mass for the first time since I was very very small. It was at faire, but it totally counts because the man performing it is a real Anglican minister. My grandmother would be so proud. Honestly, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I always liked the ceremony of it all. Thinking about maybe going more often, once faire is over. Who knows.

Someone please get “Hungry Like a Wolf” out of my head. Curse you, Rock Band 2!

Two weeks into Spring quarter, and I’m fairly certain that my 310 professor hates me.

English 310 is the class where all the English majors who are also in the single-subject credential program start learning how to teach. We develop lesson plans, there are classroom observations; it’s essentially a big warm up before we become student teachers.

Yesterday afternoon, we were asked for our opinion on what makes a good lesson plan. It should be clear, it should be relevant, it should be suited to the grade level. Several other similar answers were given, and I don’t disagree with any of them. But I was slightly annoyed and confused when my response of “it should be fun” was met with a resounding silence.

Cue the awkward button.

This is what happens when I try to have a good time in this class. We’re working in groups, no one wants to be there…so I do my best to make the other students laugh, though never at the expense of the work or the professor. She doesn’t seem to appreciate my effort in that area.

Here’s the thing. I think education should be enjoyable. I don’t think hard work and having fun are mutually exclusive. Some things will obviously be more tedious than others, like the dreaded grammar lessons, but it makes me a bit nervous when I’m being told that I have to plan everything within an inch of its life. The assignments that had every detail mapped out perfectly? Those are the ones I loathed. Those are the ones I did poorly on. But if a teacher could make me laugh, or help me find a creative way to explore the subject matter, that’s when I retained the information and grew as a student. I don’t remember much of anything from my American history class at COC, because it was boring as hell, even though I generally like the subject matter. I do, however, remember quite a lot from Walker’s world history classes and from Human Rights, because we worked outside the box. We covered the idiotic standards set by No Child Left Behind, but we didn’t realize it at the time, because we were having fun.

California education ranks 48 out of 50 states. We’re obviously doing something wrong.

Oh my god, faire starts tomorrow!

Internet, did you hear me? Did you hear the squeal in my voice that could be mistaken for a gerbil with a megaphone? The one that sounded like a child who knows that there are presents from Santa waiting downstairs, but she can’t go and get them yet because it’s 2 am and Mommy and Daddy are still sleeping (and, unbeknownst to her, they were still wrapping presents an hour and a half ago), and on top of that, she REALLY HAS TO PEE???

I said: FAIRE STARTS TOMORROW!!!!!!!

And what’s better than faire? Oh dear god, can it be? YES, INTERNET! IT CAN! After faire, I get to go home with a boy! A boy who likes me! A boy who will watch Roger Rabbit with me, who doesn’t mind that my feet are at a constant -2 degrees Fahrenheit, who manages to tickle me without finding any of his limbs forcably detached from his writhing and bleeding torso because I LIKE HIM ENOUGH TO LET HIM LIVE.

My life, it does not suck.

Oh, and since you’re here, it wouldn’t be terribly out of your way to read the post directly below this one. It is not happy or squeally, and it has nothing to do with the comedic genius that is Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, but it is desperately important to me…not to mention to the 3,000 child soldiers. Braclets will go on sale next week, $1 each. Thank you.

I had to post again, after I got a voice mail from Invisible Children.

For those who don’t know:

Invisible Children started over six years ago, when three regular guys decided to go to Africa for the hell of it. They found their way to Uganda, and in it, the most overlooked human rights atrocity of our time.

There is a war going on between the Ugandan government and a radical faction called the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). It is not, however, a war between men. 90% of the LRA is made of abducted children. These kids are stolen from their familes. Made to kill each other. Brainwashed. Told that their gun is their mother and their father. The ones who escape walk for miles, sleep in bus stations and hospitals. And this is not ten or twenty kids sharing a room. Picture a hospital wing, with the floor so crowded with sleeping children that you can’t see space between them. Thousands.

I can’t begin to explain the horrors these children face. Very soon, I’ll host a viewing party for the Invisible Children documentary.

There is a rally on April 25. It is called THE RESCUE, and it’s intention is to call attention to all the children who have been kidnapped by Joseph Kony, the first individual to be tried by the International Criminal Court for Crimes Against Humanity. For those not working faire that day, I strongly urge you to try and attend…abduct yourself, as it were.

I can’t be at the rally, sadly. On that day, however, I will be selling braided bracelets to faire workers, and all of the money will go directly to Invisible Children. I know that money is tight for everyone right now, but anything anyone can give will be greatly appreciated.

Please go to their site and watch the Rescue film. It is not easy. You will probably cry. But I believe that the world needs to know about these children. I’ve never believed anything so hard in my my life.

Go here.

Scroll to the bottom, and click on the right-hand icon for The Rescue House Party Event. That will take you to the thirty-minute film.

It’s a common cliche…the children are our future. Please, help give these children a future without violence and fear.

I don’t think I’m a racist person. I really, really don’t. I chose to attend Cal State LA because I wanted to be in an environment with different people from many different cultures. When I’d walk to my car from the gym, even after dark, I would be wary of White, Black, and Hispanic men…regardless of race, they’re all bigger than I am. I mostly stay away from the immigration debate, because I think it is very easy to slip further into racism than I’m comfortable with, and because I can’t begin to think of a halfway decent solution. I certainly don’t think a giant wall or fence or whatever will work, nor do I feel comfortable with angry and armed citizens patrolling their own little bits of the border without any kind of government supervision.

Right now, the biggest bone I have to pick with the illegal immigration debacle is the way it’s affecting education. For grade school, I went to Skyblue Mesa Elementary, right up the hill from our ‘rival’, Cedercreek Elementary. Cedercreek was named as a California Distinguished School before I graduated to junior high. Five years ago, the student population was 80% Caucasian. Now, however, the demographic has changed to 20% Caucasian and almost 80% Hispanic, and Cedercreek has become the first school in the Saugus Union School District to be up on probation for not meeting the standards put in place by the No Child Left Behind Act.

Tell me that’s a coincidence.

A girl I babysit is in second grade at Cedercreek. Once a week, her teacher is taken out of the classroom so she can be taught Spanish. Many of her students don’t speak English. Six of the children in that class are only ready 20 to 30 words per minute, when they’re supposed to be reading at least 90 per minute.

I don’t have a problem with kids being given equal opportunities in terms of education. But when illgeal parents are sending their kids to school when they can’t read, can’t speak English, and can’t catch up with the other children in their classes, that takes away from the education of the children who are up to standard.

While it was originally my intention to focus only on children of illegal immigrants, this doesn’t just apply to them. Plenty of children who come from English speaking homes are falling behind, because the parents don’t take the time to teach their kids to read. Kids don’t generally just pick it up on their own. Teaching a child to read is HARD. It isn’t always fun. The child will get impatient, and frustrated, and distracted; more often than not, you’ll want to shake them like a box of Shake N Bake. But because you brought the small and helpless creature into the world, that means it is ultimately your responsibility to make sure it has the information it needs to survive. I was sounding words out when I was two-years-old, not because I’m some prodigy, but because my parents put the time and effort into teaching me.

On the other hand, because I started reading so early, I’m now a big English Major geek. So, if you don’t want a child who can’t imagine a better present than a copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, or one who brags about translating Old English, maybe you should just give them another copy of Grand Theft Auto.

I have to give a shout-out to Ed Fox–the purpose of the iLikes was not to be all ‘*hint-hint* You should totally get me these things’, (though if anyone actually can make me the Fraggle Rock cake for my birthday, I’ll be your slave and have 10,000 of your babies), but Ed loved the Rock-Paper-Scissor-Lizard-Spock shirt so much that he bought one for each of us. Woot sauce!

Alright, until faire is over, The iLikes will be for things sold there…hawking the wares, if you will.

First and foremost:

Yeah, there won’t be an image here. Tried to find one, could not, damnnation and hellfire.

Pale Moon

These are the most gorgeous necklaces, made of bone, and very popular among the faire participants and patrons. Got a beautiful one for my neice for her high school graduation, and I want to get the pretty acorn one for myself this year.

Off to rehearsal.

I have learned more about myself in the past week and a half than I generally do in six months.

A huge part of my world view has been significantly altered, because I’ve managed to stumble upon several people who, while they aren’t like me, per se, they have enough similar qualities to make me realize ‘Oh…I’m not completely insane for doing/thinking/wanting (insert something here)’.

I find myself enjoying time with girl friends, which is something I’ve never experienced. I have had female best friends, most of whom I’m still very close to, but this is the first time in my life where I’ve found a kinship with several other women.

Also, I’ve recently discovered that it is possible for someone to care about me as much as I care about them. On a romantic level, this is completely foreign. I’ve loved a few times, but I’ve never been loved back. It’s an adventure that I’m looking forward to having for a long time.

Spring break ends tomorrow. Faire opens next weekend. Still looking for a job. Need to start researching Masters programs.

It really doesn’t suck being me.

A fellow faire performer suggested I look this up, and I’m very glad I did; these little ‘beauty tips’ are well worth remembering and practicing:

(Note: Contrary to popular belief, this was not written by Audrey Hepburn. It was, however, a favorite poem of hers, written by Sam Levenson.)

“Time Tested Beauty Tips”

The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!

And how.

First, the iLike:

I want it, and I want it now, Rock-Paper-Sicssors-Lizard-Spock is made of win.

In other news, I’ve survived the hell that is finals. Workshops are going well. Nothing to yell or rant about, which is a nice change.

Oh, I did find this creature wandering around faire, and he’s rather adorable, so I’ve decided to keep him:

That’s all for now. Real update within the next week, I promise.