I woke gradually out of my sleep feeling very rested. This sent me into a panic, because I never wake up for work feeling this way. I grab my alarm clock and see it says 6:44 am. I normally wake up at 5:45 to catch the 6:45 train into London. I rocket out of bed, throw my hair in a pony tail and start stabbing my eyes with mascara. I am throwing things into my bag and rushing as fast as I can. Then I remember the time has jumped forward an hour on everything but my alarm clock, so it is really 7:44 am, and I should be at school in 16 minutes. I completely lose it wondering how I could have slept through two alarms (clock and cell phone) and finish packing my bag. It's then that I see the map of the museum I was going to go to on Sunday. Hmmm...why didn't I go to the museum? What did I do instead? Oh riiiighhtttt, it IS Sunday, not Monday and I WILL still go to that museum today.
If it wasn't still Lent, I would have felt shame. I get back into bed and read for two hours to calm my pounding heart. I have already set my alarm clock for tomorrow, especially early.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Trifecta
Friday night was unreal. A few of the staff went out for drinks after work and being is we normally can't control our laughter during a work day, a pub night was a gong show. One particular incident was a moment in my life that can never be recreated and its hilarity was brought about by fate - a perfect combination of timing and stupidity.
Rahela, Crystal, and I were at the bar having a conversation. We were physically close (Rahela was actually leaning on me for support) so there is no excuse for this level of miscommunication i.e. we can't say we couldn't hear each other, we just straight up weren't paying attention to what each other were saying. This is how the conversation went:
I initiated the talk - "Crystal what was that dance you had to learn in Australian schools? Hash nut brown? Brown hash nut? Nut brown? Brown hash? Hash nut? Hash... Jesus Crystal just give me a f****** hint here!"
*Background on this discussion, along with the Macarena, Kangaroo children had to learn a dance properly referred to as the Nut Bush by Tina Turner. This is the word combo I was looking for. At this moment, Rahela is staring into my eyes listening what appeared to be carefully and Crystal is shaking her head like "no" to all my attempts to get the name right, hence my explosion as I believed she knew where I was going with my line of questioning but just not helping me out.
Rahela then pipes up somewhere around my third attempt at the name, so talking over me and furthering my exasperation. All I hear her say is "VIBE!" And she does a "V" with her fingers.
*Background - Rahela thought the whole time I was asking Crystal's date of birth. She didn't know what it was so when she thought I changed the question to "What's your agency?" She responded correctly with Crystals agency name, "Vibe" and was excited she could participate in the conversation.
Crystal, who looks fully engaged with what both of us are saying, really wasn't listening to anything at all. She never heard the questioning or Rahela's VIBE explosion, only when we both looked at her expectantly did she realize we were waiting for her to say something and the last thing that entered her ears from a distant memory was "dance". She happened to say quite cooly, "Nut bush" and point her fingers at us.
Here is the perfect trifecta of ridiculousness. All occurring within a five minute time frame, three completely separate understandings of the dialogue falling from our mouths. At this realization, the three of us lose it and start laughing, Rahela and I more than Crystal. I can't actually contain myself and release my grip on the bar. This in turn causes Rahela, who is fully leaning on me to remain standing, rockets backward into the woman behind us, crushing her feet in sandals. I continue to laugh until two drops come out, and Rahela staggers back to the bar, still laughing. Crystal is the only one who notices the dagger eyes the woman is giving us. What I was surprised with is normally when I see a group of people laughing THAT hard, I can't contain my smile and kind of go along with them. This woman wasn't having it. She was a real stick in the mud, even with squashed toes.
The rest of the night was us bringing up how unreal the conversation was and how surprising it was that the dialogue managed to carry on for so long when all three of us were basically talking to ourselves. Nursery really has rubbed off on our communication skills.
Rahela, Crystal, and I were at the bar having a conversation. We were physically close (Rahela was actually leaning on me for support) so there is no excuse for this level of miscommunication i.e. we can't say we couldn't hear each other, we just straight up weren't paying attention to what each other were saying. This is how the conversation went:
I initiated the talk - "Crystal what was that dance you had to learn in Australian schools? Hash nut brown? Brown hash nut? Nut brown? Brown hash? Hash nut? Hash... Jesus Crystal just give me a f****** hint here!"
*Background on this discussion, along with the Macarena, Kangaroo children had to learn a dance properly referred to as the Nut Bush by Tina Turner. This is the word combo I was looking for. At this moment, Rahela is staring into my eyes listening what appeared to be carefully and Crystal is shaking her head like "no" to all my attempts to get the name right, hence my explosion as I believed she knew where I was going with my line of questioning but just not helping me out.
Rahela then pipes up somewhere around my third attempt at the name, so talking over me and furthering my exasperation. All I hear her say is "VIBE!" And she does a "V" with her fingers.
*Background - Rahela thought the whole time I was asking Crystal's date of birth. She didn't know what it was so when she thought I changed the question to "What's your agency?" She responded correctly with Crystals agency name, "Vibe" and was excited she could participate in the conversation.
Crystal, who looks fully engaged with what both of us are saying, really wasn't listening to anything at all. She never heard the questioning or Rahela's VIBE explosion, only when we both looked at her expectantly did she realize we were waiting for her to say something and the last thing that entered her ears from a distant memory was "dance". She happened to say quite cooly, "Nut bush" and point her fingers at us.
Here is the perfect trifecta of ridiculousness. All occurring within a five minute time frame, three completely separate understandings of the dialogue falling from our mouths. At this realization, the three of us lose it and start laughing, Rahela and I more than Crystal. I can't actually contain myself and release my grip on the bar. This in turn causes Rahela, who is fully leaning on me to remain standing, rockets backward into the woman behind us, crushing her feet in sandals. I continue to laugh until two drops come out, and Rahela staggers back to the bar, still laughing. Crystal is the only one who notices the dagger eyes the woman is giving us. What I was surprised with is normally when I see a group of people laughing THAT hard, I can't contain my smile and kind of go along with them. This woman wasn't having it. She was a real stick in the mud, even with squashed toes.
The rest of the night was us bringing up how unreal the conversation was and how surprising it was that the dialogue managed to carry on for so long when all three of us were basically talking to ourselves. Nursery really has rubbed off on our communication skills.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Lent
The problem with giving up shame for Lent is that Lent ends. Soon. Sooner than I had anticipated.
I thought this was a good move for me but now I am filled with the dread of the shame that awaits once Lent is over.
So for a late Humas resolution, I am giving up the dread of shame for when Lent ends, which ends me giving up shame for Lent. Wrap that around your mind J.J. Abrams.
Cheers to clean slates.
I thought this was a good move for me but now I am filled with the dread of the shame that awaits once Lent is over.
So for a late Humas resolution, I am giving up the dread of shame for when Lent ends, which ends me giving up shame for Lent. Wrap that around your mind J.J. Abrams.
Cheers to clean slates.
From Tourist to Lazy
I have been so caught up with the good life that I haven’t been writing as frequently, sorry for people who check on a regular basis. I will try to step my game up and give you an overall update.
One thing I have noticed is my level of commitment to exploring and touring around has plummeted and I have begun to develop the I-live-here-now-and-don’t-need-to-see-THAT-place/thing/area-yet-as-I-can-go-any-other-time mentality. In previous months, every weekend I would explore another place/area of England, but recently I have begun to work over the weekends or binge drink (another part of becoming a local). I have made a mental note to not be such a lazy-ass anymore and get out of this rut. Operation Museum will begin this Saturday as I plan to continue to work my way through the labyrinth that is the Victoria and Albert Museum.
NOTE ON VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM:
- I love museums
- I love museums that provide you with free maps
- I love ticking off rooms I have been in, especially when said museum map is over four pages long
- The V & A will take approximately two more days for me to cover it all
Simple things that make British life exciting, especially when commuting, also known as Game 1 and 2:
1. Often train times are posted on these huge electronic boards but the platforms aren’t posted until the last minute so they have time to “prepare” the train. Not sure what this entails as it is not the Polar Express and no golden tickets need to be handed out or collecting of poor kids from the wrong side of the tracks. Anyway, they never post the platform until minutes before the train is set to leave. I take this as a personal challenge, which means I have perfected the act of waiting down to an art. It involves me reading all other platforms as to rule out which platforms will not be suddenly tacked onto my board. Then edging my body through the masses of people/luggage toward the most likely platform, while still being able to read the electronic sign. This is also a very delicate process, as I have managed to stand as far back as possible that if I squint just right, I can make out the platform when it flashes up. Also, when I say “masses of people” I am not lying; as the departure time nears, swarms of people gather around this tiny sign to all wait for the platform. When it does finally pop up, people flood the gates like War of the Worlds, so I ensure I am carrying my bags in such a way that I can use my elbows in the most effective manner. As lame as this all sounds, it is the best game and anyone who has ever played a game with me knows I always win. If I don’t win, there is hell to pay. Monday was such a day, when I badly miscalculated which platform I thought my train would depart from, so I had aligned myself next to platform seven. Poor choice. I was so far away from the signs that I had to really squint to see when the bright orange glow flashed up. To my horror, platform 1 came up and I set off tearing through the crowds. I knocked over several small children and one man with a cane before I was brought down with a wheelie bag. Pain and fury coursed through me. I stood on the train that day. Few people are alive to retell the tale.
NOTE TO ALL WHEELIE BAG OWNERS: Your bag is not another person, and any normal human who walks with their head up aka not the Hunchback of Notre Dame or my mother (not likening her to the hunchback but she does walk watching her feet and has yet to ever step in dog/goose poop, so win for mom.) will not see your tiny bag if you let it drag miles behind you. Often I see the person but they have let their bag droop so low that it is two people-lengths behind them and has formed what I like to call a “train-trap” as this most happens when people carry their luggage to the train. It is more deadly than animal traps as it not only hurts when you stumble over said trap/bag, but it brings about a form of social humiliation as your body not only impacts with the unexpected bag, but you can’t catch your balance so you teeter over the bag while the carrier gets spaghetti arms trying to right the bag, and you end up having to place your arms down on the luggage to regain your footing. Both parties involved are mortified because it is five minute social connection you share with a stranger and both are in the wrong (I insist the carrier is more in the wrong though and therefore should be punched).
2. Predicting where the doors of the train will stop on the platform. Unlike at Paddington (the above scenario), Reading lets you know the platforms well in advance, which means groups of people are waiting on the platform for the train to pull up and collect us in the wee hours of the morn. This game is better than Russian Roulette and almost as deadly/loaded. If you guess wrong and stand in between two sets of doors, you will end up standing for the whole journey. If you guess right, you not only get to sit down, but you get the personal glory of knowing you won and watch all the losers stand in the aisle beside you. Again, I almost never lose and only when my Canadian side comes do I end up standing. You must be even firmer than the previous game and stakes are certainly higher. If you did happen to guess wrong, you can only hope to jump in front of other people who guessed correctly and pretend you didn’t see them in line whilst you fiddle with your ipod/blackberry. I used to think this was awkward, but after standing for 35 minutes on a train, then standing another 30 minutes on the tube, then walking to work, then spending an entire day in a nursery class, then doing it all over again to travel home, I will kill a man for a seat on the train…and I have.
Other than that, nursery is a laugh, especially with the weather warming up. Dance parties fill my days and we are learning all about bugs in the springtime. Yesterday, my TAs and I went to the pet store and got two crickets for the children to observe over the next few weeks and I read the Very Quiet Cricket by Eric Carle. I am pumped to have live bugs in the class (we also have lady bugs in those pet aquariums) but I am not excited for the children to inevitably find a way to open the containers and set free the minibeasts in the class. We should take bets on how soon that will happen.
Anyway, vair tired Sousa out.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Café con aroma de mujer
Today on the train home from London, the people surrounding me were worse than a Spanish soap opera. It was THE most entertaining ride home I have ever had.
First, I sit down next to this girl who is about 20 and she starts breathing deeply and seems to be on the verge of a panic attack or vomiting, I am not sure which. She kept looking frantically out the window and then at her hands. It wasn't quite an I-am-high-out-of-my-mind inspection of her hands, more like a personal technique she employs to calm herself down. She kept pushing herself far back into her chair and against the cushioning of the seat and then letting out huge sighs. I sat back, taking it all in, waiting for her to explode like a volcano. Then it happened. She got up like a rocket and asked me to move so she could get out. She tumbled over my bags (I was sitting in the aisle seat) and burst down the row of chairs. When she got to the doors, some children were blocking her so she shouted, "LET ME OUT OF HERE" and they clung to their mother as she ran them over. After she was gone, the little boy's face screwed up and said "she was scary." She never came back to her seat. I am sure she was fine...
Then there was a man across the aisle from me, who had tattoos all over his hands (no judgement but he looked like a tough mother) got in a fight with the lady who checks train tickets. He apparently had the wrong ticket for that train and she needed him to pay the difference. After much hoopla and curses, he stopped, looked directly into her soul and said, "we will meet again, in this life or the next." I was scared for her and completely understood when she didn't check anyone else's tickets but bustled out of the carriage.
Finally, when the train pulled up to the lovely Reading, the young couple behind me were arguing how to get to some location and she said, "let's just take a cab." He said, "oh this will be good, why do we need to take a cab?" and she mumbled about her feet hurting from her shoes. He said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Oh so not a big medical reason, just because you wanted to get tarted up tonight and wore stupid shoes that make you look ridiculous anyway." That was the end of their conversation, and possibly their relationship.
Can't wait for the next episode of my spanish soap opera, where I can just sit back and watch other people's lives go to shambles.
First, I sit down next to this girl who is about 20 and she starts breathing deeply and seems to be on the verge of a panic attack or vomiting, I am not sure which. She kept looking frantically out the window and then at her hands. It wasn't quite an I-am-high-out-of-my-mind inspection of her hands, more like a personal technique she employs to calm herself down. She kept pushing herself far back into her chair and against the cushioning of the seat and then letting out huge sighs. I sat back, taking it all in, waiting for her to explode like a volcano. Then it happened. She got up like a rocket and asked me to move so she could get out. She tumbled over my bags (I was sitting in the aisle seat) and burst down the row of chairs. When she got to the doors, some children were blocking her so she shouted, "LET ME OUT OF HERE" and they clung to their mother as she ran them over. After she was gone, the little boy's face screwed up and said "she was scary." She never came back to her seat. I am sure she was fine...
Then there was a man across the aisle from me, who had tattoos all over his hands (no judgement but he looked like a tough mother) got in a fight with the lady who checks train tickets. He apparently had the wrong ticket for that train and she needed him to pay the difference. After much hoopla and curses, he stopped, looked directly into her soul and said, "we will meet again, in this life or the next." I was scared for her and completely understood when she didn't check anyone else's tickets but bustled out of the carriage.
Finally, when the train pulled up to the lovely Reading, the young couple behind me were arguing how to get to some location and she said, "let's just take a cab." He said, "oh this will be good, why do we need to take a cab?" and she mumbled about her feet hurting from her shoes. He said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Oh so not a big medical reason, just because you wanted to get tarted up tonight and wore stupid shoes that make you look ridiculous anyway." That was the end of their conversation, and possibly their relationship.
Can't wait for the next episode of my spanish soap opera, where I can just sit back and watch other people's lives go to shambles.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Friend or Foe?
Spiders, friend or foe? I like to think friend as they eliminate many of my foes and the enemy of my enemy is my friend, however why do they have to move so creepily? I went to the bathroom last night and saw in the mirror THE biggest spider I have ever seen in my life, other than a Tarantula. It could have been a Tarantula for all I know, either that or it was the mutant arachnid that bit Peter Parker. If the decaying moth on my stairs was still alive, the battle between the two minibeasts would be unreal. I would pay to see that in 3D, as it wouldn't be far from an Alien VS Predator movie.
This bad boy wasn't just huge, but when I took in a sharp breath from being so caught off guard, it moved at an incredible pace down the wall to the floor. I fled from the bathroom immediately and now pay homage to it every time I enter for fear of it weaving me into a web while I shower. I won't be surprised if I soon start leaving out bits of spiced meats to keep it occupied while I use its home formerly known as my bathroom.
This bad boy wasn't just huge, but when I took in a sharp breath from being so caught off guard, it moved at an incredible pace down the wall to the floor. I fled from the bathroom immediately and now pay homage to it every time I enter for fear of it weaving me into a web while I shower. I won't be surprised if I soon start leaving out bits of spiced meats to keep it occupied while I use its home formerly known as my bathroom.
Liver
I didn't think it was possible but I am pretty sure my liver hurts. It's more of a general throbbing in my upper right quadrant. This is a result from the two week bender I have been on since the lovely Kaitlin Thiel arrived in the country. Something about Kaitlin really kicks me into full gear and I begin to run on pure adrenaline while she's around. Normally I go to sleep around 9pm so I am well rested to lead some aggressive phonics circles and dramatic storytime sessions but when she was here we managed to go out to the pub almost every night, come in around two, and then I would teach the next day or be up touring the country. This resulted in both of us running a course of illnesses, recovering, then relapsing repeatedly over our time spent together. It also resulted in us becoming more ridiculous as the weeks progressed and subsequently humiliating ourselves on numerous occasions.
Kaitlin arrived two weeks ago, and stayed with me while I had one more week of teaching before half-term. After that week was up, we journeyed to Scotland as I was off from school that week also.
As much fun as this all sounds, the time we did manage to sleep, Kaitlin forgot to remind me that she has night terrors. Oh ha ha, you say? Nay nay. These aren't mumbling-in-your-sleep-I'm-uncomfortable type night terrors, these are full out Freddy Krueger mixed with a dash of late-night marathons of Criminal Minds and a side of the Exorcist. Nearly every night, I was awoken by the sound of not soothing breathing noises, but full-out screams of terror, hair pulling, and flailing sheets/curtains. If I was really lucky, I could get Kaitlin just drunk enough that her REM sleep was altered and therefore fewer screams could be heard in a night, but that was also rare. Last night I had to convince a half-lucid Kaitlin that she wasn't actually fighting off a mutant child, trying to steal her luggage from the airport...I was unsuccessful.
Here are some of the most unreal moments of our travels:
- Me convincing Kaitlin that our talks before falling asleep weren't actually referred to as "pillow talk" (this was an actual verbal battle ending in Kaitlin saying a classic "interestinnnnnnggggg..."
- Kaitlin being unable to remember the name of the traditional Scottish dish Haggis, and each time saying something more ridiculous like "Are we going to try Hamsy today?" Some of the more interesting ones being Habbish, Homish, and Haggish...close but no win.
- On several occasions Kaitlin and I would implement extremely poor planning. One such example which set the tone for the entire trip was when we hurried for McDonalds breakfast and when we arrived, decided to "quickly" check our route to London before we ordered. When we stepped up to the counter, they said breakfast had just ended at 10:30, my eyes panned across to the wall clock to see it flashing 10:33. If only we hadn't looked into our route for 10 minutes before ordering, we would have been chowing down some serious hash browns, instead of Snack Wraps...ugh. This was the story of us missing seeing Edinburgh Castle. We stumbled across a street performer on our last evening in Edinburgh and decided to stay to watch a bit of his show. He fascinated us with his charm and dazzle, but kept us there by publicly humiliating/scrutinizing anyone who tried to leave his show. After he was done and we gave him all our spare change to prevent ridicule, we ambled up to the castle and when we reached the gates, were stopped by security as they had closed five minutes before we got there. Don't worry my pictures of the outside are probably just as great...not.
- When Kaitlin arrived, she had to purchase a travel card and one of the requirements is a "passport style" photo for her rail card. We found a booth for her to get the picture done, and I convinced her that she couldn't smile or have any bangs in her face so she would have to clip them back. Funny enough, the only clip I had on me was a mammoth one so the resulting photo was somewhat frightening. Once the pictures popped out of the machine, Kaitlin found out she didn't actually have to make a DUI picture worse than Nick Nolte's. See below:
Her response was that of outrage and actually said, "If I die today, this will be the last photo taken of me and then won't YOU feel bad." To which I laughed more hysterically and said I would blow her photo up for the wake and have it what everyone would have to say good bye to. We started speaking again hours minutes later.
Overall it was an unreal trip and I miss having my bed buddy to jar me out of peaceful sleeps. Now I am back to the daily grind of wiping tears and building puzzles, but I think I will live on.
Kaitlin arrived two weeks ago, and stayed with me while I had one more week of teaching before half-term. After that week was up, we journeyed to Scotland as I was off from school that week also.
As much fun as this all sounds, the time we did manage to sleep, Kaitlin forgot to remind me that she has night terrors. Oh ha ha, you say? Nay nay. These aren't mumbling-in-your-sleep-I'm-uncomfortable type night terrors, these are full out Freddy Krueger mixed with a dash of late-night marathons of Criminal Minds and a side of the Exorcist. Nearly every night, I was awoken by the sound of not soothing breathing noises, but full-out screams of terror, hair pulling, and flailing sheets/curtains. If I was really lucky, I could get Kaitlin just drunk enough that her REM sleep was altered and therefore fewer screams could be heard in a night, but that was also rare. Last night I had to convince a half-lucid Kaitlin that she wasn't actually fighting off a mutant child, trying to steal her luggage from the airport...I was unsuccessful.
Here are some of the most unreal moments of our travels:
- Me convincing Kaitlin that our talks before falling asleep weren't actually referred to as "pillow talk" (this was an actual verbal battle ending in Kaitlin saying a classic "interestinnnnnnggggg..."
- Kaitlin being unable to remember the name of the traditional Scottish dish Haggis, and each time saying something more ridiculous like "Are we going to try Hamsy today?" Some of the more interesting ones being Habbish, Homish, and Haggish...close but no win.
- On several occasions Kaitlin and I would implement extremely poor planning. One such example which set the tone for the entire trip was when we hurried for McDonalds breakfast and when we arrived, decided to "quickly" check our route to London before we ordered. When we stepped up to the counter, they said breakfast had just ended at 10:30, my eyes panned across to the wall clock to see it flashing 10:33. If only we hadn't looked into our route for 10 minutes before ordering, we would have been chowing down some serious hash browns, instead of Snack Wraps...ugh. This was the story of us missing seeing Edinburgh Castle. We stumbled across a street performer on our last evening in Edinburgh and decided to stay to watch a bit of his show. He fascinated us with his charm and dazzle, but kept us there by publicly humiliating/scrutinizing anyone who tried to leave his show. After he was done and we gave him all our spare change to prevent ridicule, we ambled up to the castle and when we reached the gates, were stopped by security as they had closed five minutes before we got there. Don't worry my pictures of the outside are probably just as great...not.
- When Kaitlin arrived, she had to purchase a travel card and one of the requirements is a "passport style" photo for her rail card. We found a booth for her to get the picture done, and I convinced her that she couldn't smile or have any bangs in her face so she would have to clip them back. Funny enough, the only clip I had on me was a mammoth one so the resulting photo was somewhat frightening. Once the pictures popped out of the machine, Kaitlin found out she didn't actually have to make a DUI picture worse than Nick Nolte's. See below:
Overall it was an unreal trip and I miss having my bed buddy to jar me out of peaceful sleeps. Now I am back to the daily grind of wiping tears and building puzzles, but I think I will live on.
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