Meeting the teacher

No, this is not another post from an 18 year-old, dramatic college student, re-telling the painful, trite and self absorbed world of college life. I would have blogged about that subject matter when I was at the university. No no, I had the delightful opportunity to meet my daughter's 1st grade teacher this evening at "back to school night." First off, the only make up she wore, (not against not wearing make up, or on the appearance of teachers) was heavy black eye liner, smudged over each upper and lower lid giving the appearance of two black eyes. Can you already tell that I don't like this woman? Then, if you watched her speak, and stand when the other teacher was speaking, she twitched, snorted, and rubbed her nose like a meth addict. (I happen to personally know one or two) Her mannerisms and, I've now apparently learned, her methods, seem a bit wacky. "Please don't bring cupcakes and sweets to school for your children's birthdays, all that sugar isn't good for the kids." I have a better idea, let the kids have some God Damn sweets every once in a while! They're kids, that's what they like to eat. If the children were being fed correctly at home, maybe they could have a fucking cupcake. "I redesigned the weekly progress reports and made them more complicated," she slipped. "I don't mean more complicated, I meant more complete." Oh no, her Freudian slip was right, it is definitely more complicated. I wanted to love my kid's teachers. After all, this teacher is teaching MY daughter. So she tells us to make sure the kids are in comfortable sports shoes for P.E. day. Okay, so I ask the question, "when is their P.E. day?" She's clasping her hands, "Uh Wednesday." She looked like she forgot what P.E. meant when I asked. I glanced at one of the handouts I received. It states they have P.E. twice a week. Hmmmm... I think we may be experiencing uncomfortable parent-teacher conferences.

Raw and Uncensored

don't get your hopes up... raw and uncensored, as the term applies to me, simply represents truth. Yes, truth. not to take away from the usual mundanities, I think I just made up a word; but sometimes I try to write as if I was driven by the need to write, to satisfy the relentless compulsion to express thoughts feelings descriptions. in other words, I pretend like I can write. and when I pretend like I can write, bullshit comes out, and bullshit is not truth. what is it that I'm getting at exactly? my GOD man... you make a fine point... focus. I don't often feel raw and true. I feel, well, Diplomatic most of the time. speaking my mind, yet all slanted with intention to "be nice". fuck nice. I am nice. I'm tired, and the answers to questions or the reactions to statements pass through the "diplomacy filter" on an express non-stop ticket to the lips. it feels good. I sometimes wish I had what other select people have... have I ever mentioned that? but know what? I actually have it all. Delusions are fun. this is going nowhere. sometimes I wish I could type concurrent with the sparky synapses, firing to meet for brilliant posts, or articles, or books. I think I should read more.

Grim and the Kids
They're too cool.

Can't believe this is all I have to write about...

A post entitled, "can't believe this is all I have to write about," refers specifically to the post's subject matter. Days filled with work and family, as well as pathetic self pity, but not necessarily in that order; struck with the first desire to express anything here. Let's talk about cartoons. The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, to be specific. Have you seen it? What am I doing watching cartoons? I can, of course, blame the children. "They're watching it"... And they are, but somehow, so am I, more than the girls I think. So Billy and Mandy are kids. Let me rephrase that. They're odd little kids. Billy, an intensified version of a child: loud, goofy, he kinda looks like a little old man. And Mandy: dark, cold, cynical; nothing like a child. Billy's dad: an absurd dork... Hardly a father figure. (Lotsa those on T.V. these days) And did I mention that they live with Grim? Grim is his first name, Reaper his last. That's right, they hang out with the Grim Reaper, black cloak, pointy sickle, and he's an evil skeleton. No one seems to question the fact that Grim is the angel of death. They toil in twisted fairy tales, monsters, fire and brimstone. Where were Billy and Mandy when I was a kid? Maybe I couldn't handle it. Mr Magoo, Bugs and The Roadrunner; not the Grim Reaper and spiders. Anyway, my, oops, I mean, the kids' show is coming on.

Sophia, the three-year-old, took this pic of daddy... Not bad. 

I Need To Comment

Holy Moly... I haven't been able to get it together enough to post anything... In fact, I sat in front of my lil' laptop, staring at the screen, blankly, more than once. I'm not sure if it's a lack of energy; or creativity. (not like any of this is incredibly creative) So I took that quiz... The one below. And I just happened to like the picture.

And I don't have anything left to say about that...

My Animal Spirit Guide

Jaguar Spirit Calls To You!
Jaguar's Wisdom
Includes:

Seeing the roads within chaos
Understanding the patterns of chaos
Moving without fear in the darkness
Facilitating soul work
Empowering oneself
Moving in unknown places
Shapeshifter
Psychic sight

If you enjoyed this quiz, please rate and I may
do another!

Animal Spirit Guides ~ Which One Calls To You?
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