I love my job.
I am pretty sure if you searched through my writings, you would be able to see this statement repeated many times. I don't love my job because I get summers off or I get to laugh at poo jokes (although, those are some perks) but I love it because of the kids. I know what it sounds like, before you say it to me later, I do know but it's true.
An older teaching mentor I had at my last school said, "I don't have any of my own children, but I have 30 adopted ones each year." It is true. People say teaching is rewarding and you feel like you are making a difference but I am not sure that is what drives me to love my job. Away from it all, looking back on children I have taught, I feel a sense of pride, sure. I feel fulfilment from their progress and development during their time with me however when you are in the midst of it, you really are in the shit. I don't mean to parallel teaching 5 - 10 year olds with war, but isn't it? Let's be honest, every day I am in a battle. Crayons are flying around the room, children don't want to follow instructions, people are getting hit (by each other, not by me...), they are missing their families, and there are tears...lots of tears. I leave every day feeling like I have run a marathon, only to go home and think about what to do tomorrow.
The reason I say I don't think teaching feels rewarding when you are in the middle of a school year with a group is because you worry. You worry all the time. I can't imagine what it will be like to have my own children, who I can't send away at 3:30, to take a break until 8:00 the next day. I find it hard to comprehend worrying any more than I already do. Sometimes parents disagree with you as their child's teacher, which is fine (any parent reading this, I understand why you are upset and want to meet with me every day after school - this is not a criticism right now) but sometimes I just want to shout "I love your kid too! I am doing my best!"because I do love them, and I am certainly trying my best.
I try my best not so I can be the best or get an award from my head teacher but again, because I worry - always. Sometimes the worrying about them is so bad, I wake up in the middle of the night to text people (last year I was particularly worried about a bunch and an old TA friend received many a text about my anxieties). What I want to say to parents is:
You stay up late worrying your child will fall behind? I stay up late worrying about how I can prevent that. I stay up late examining APP grids, and ELGs and targets and curriculum maps to see where your child needs to go next and for EACH child under my care. My google search engine is filled with "books that are good for retells," "3D shape games" "practical money activities and resources" or maybe even "funny phonics raps." I worry that they don't have enough friends, or maybe they have the wrong friends. I worry that they aren't getting adding by counting on. I worry that they might not ever be able to take turns. I worry that they won't be able to cope as well with a teacher who has a different teaching style when they move up a grade next year. I worry where they will be in four years, six years, in high school. I worry that I am not doing enough, or maybe I am even pushing too hard. I worry they won't make their targets. I worry about WHY they won't make their targets. I worry that if they don't get something, it is because I am not being clear enough or I am not teaching it the best way possible. I worry I am failing. Now multiple your worries by 30 because I worry about all of them the same.
So yes, I worry too.
This is why you don't often have time as a teacher on a weekend or after school to feel rewarded or like you are out to do good. You are busy trying to keep your head above water, while 30 munchkins sit on your shoulders trying to stay afloat too. But I will say there are wow moments. Not always me feeling rewarded or good at what I do, but where a child really blows me away with something they do or say. Today one of my boys said to a little girl who was crying, "Don't worry, I missed my mum too but you will be ok. It's fun here, we will look after you," and gave her a tissue. Another girl looked at me while I was sitting at a focus table and said "Ms. Thomas, have you seen _____? I don't know where she could be?" Then she smiled and me and discretely pointed to her best friend "hiding" herself under an open-area table. "But Ms. Thomas, she must be somewhere, I just don't know where she is." All the while, the other little girl was blissfully giggling that she had fooled us all.
I might be worried about some smaller, more bureaucratic elements of teaching but we are shaping tiny humans and I have to remind myself they will be alright. That is why I love my job, because they make it easy to love what I do. They might not be able to double 7, but I hope from being with me they can laugh and they can be good people.
Fingers crossed.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
I've Lived Here How Long?
In the hustle and bustle of London, it is easy to miss things and not quite understand everything around you. There are so many people, places, and stimuli that sometimes you tune things out. Big things. Things that are flashing into your face every single day. I'm coming up to 3 years in London and I have just discovered one of those things.
When I lived in Forest Hill, I bought weekly travel passes, so it didn't matter how often I travelled or what route I took to get there. Now, for all you bumpkins who experience the substandard transport of the TTC or maybe the glorious transport of owning your own car, it is a fixed rate, held on something called an Oyster card that you tap on sensors to get in and out of stations. However, since I have moved I no longer use a weekly travel card, but instead a pay as you go method, still loaded onto my Oyster.
Now enough of the nitty gritty - basically everyday I see a pink - not yellow- tap in sign during my journey. In fact, they are all over the place. Heaps of them, littered this way and that. BUT they are in the middle of a platform or off to the side so that you DO NOT need to tap them to continue with your journey. This has of course led me to ignore them forever. Every single day I see the odd few people pull out their card and tap this little pink spot whilst trundling along to their next platform. Do I ever read the sign? No. Do I ever stop to think about what they are doing? No. Hmm. And to be honest, if it weren't that shiny, rich colour of pink, I probably would have continued to ignore it forever...but like the ferret I am, I was intrigued by it's appeal.
So I go home after a long day of work and realise once again the pink sign. I glance at it - "pay as you go travellers" - interesting. I walk around it - yes it does seem like something I should do. And I then...avoid it and continue walking. Well oh heck, I might as well google it when I get in.
Yup, it is exactly for me and my form of travel. Yup, it would be saving me bundles of money a week. Yup, I am a complete ostrich, moving my way through life with my head in the sand. What I WAS paying for a week of travel - £40. What I SHOULD be paying a week, doing the exact same route just tapping the G.D. fuchsia sign - £19. Smeh, what's money?
Everything is the answer you're looking for. Everything.
Here it is - easy to miss right? No.
When I lived in Forest Hill, I bought weekly travel passes, so it didn't matter how often I travelled or what route I took to get there. Now, for all you bumpkins who experience the substandard transport of the TTC or maybe the glorious transport of owning your own car, it is a fixed rate, held on something called an Oyster card that you tap on sensors to get in and out of stations. However, since I have moved I no longer use a weekly travel card, but instead a pay as you go method, still loaded onto my Oyster.
Now enough of the nitty gritty - basically everyday I see a pink - not yellow- tap in sign during my journey. In fact, they are all over the place. Heaps of them, littered this way and that. BUT they are in the middle of a platform or off to the side so that you DO NOT need to tap them to continue with your journey. This has of course led me to ignore them forever. Every single day I see the odd few people pull out their card and tap this little pink spot whilst trundling along to their next platform. Do I ever read the sign? No. Do I ever stop to think about what they are doing? No. Hmm. And to be honest, if it weren't that shiny, rich colour of pink, I probably would have continued to ignore it forever...but like the ferret I am, I was intrigued by it's appeal.
So I go home after a long day of work and realise once again the pink sign. I glance at it - "pay as you go travellers" - interesting. I walk around it - yes it does seem like something I should do. And I then...avoid it and continue walking. Well oh heck, I might as well google it when I get in.
Yup, it is exactly for me and my form of travel. Yup, it would be saving me bundles of money a week. Yup, I am a complete ostrich, moving my way through life with my head in the sand. What I WAS paying for a week of travel - £40. What I SHOULD be paying a week, doing the exact same route just tapping the G.D. fuchsia sign - £19. Smeh, what's money?
Everything is the answer you're looking for. Everything.
Here it is - easy to miss right? No.
Monday, June 3, 2013
The Caterpillar and the Tadpole
Today I read THE most horrifying book to the children, unintentionally of course.
The story was called The Tadpole's Promise. It starts with a tadpole and a caterpillar falling madly in love from looking at each other through a pond. Very sweet, though I knew from the beginning it was going to be doomed as they would never be in each other's worlds #GoldenCompass. BUT little did I know how tragic it really would turn out.
You see, normally I would do a prereading of every book I read to the kids but this was the first day back after holiday and things were going a bit crazy. I just asked a lovely boy to pick out a story before launching into reading it with full voices and actions, made up as I go.
The gist of the story was that the two fall in love and promise each other they will never change - you see how this is beginning to get risky. 1. both a tadpole and caterpillar are both very limited forms and 2. youth must mature.
Also, the caterpillar has a beautiful rainbow stripe down her side which the tadpole falls in love with and calls "his rainbow" BUT the caterpillar keeps coming to the pond and discovering her lover has once again changed and she is heartbroken. When the tadpole begins to grow it's front legs, loses his tail, and has back legs, she announces this is the last straw and strops off in a hump. Eventually she comes to her senses but by now she has also changed. So she flies as a butterfly back to the pond to say she will always love the tadpole no matter how he changes, but this time she sees a frog. As she goes to fly in to ask the frog where the tadpole has gone...he leaps up and swallows the butterfly whole. The last line is "so the frog waited on his lilypad, always wondering where his rainbow went."
This is the point when the children began to scream. Not little shrieks, but full out Home Alone wails and it wasn't long before I realised I was screaming equally as loud with them. Not only do they not end up together, but he consumes her entirely and doesn't even know it!
Luckily there were no tears, only screams of disbelief and shock. Once the screams died down we did burst into a fit of giggles from being so caught off guard. I quickly moved on to a round of singing Che Che Koolay before dismissing them to free choice.
I can't wait for parent comments and questions tomorrow or my nightmares tonight.
Here is the worst:
The story was called The Tadpole's Promise. It starts with a tadpole and a caterpillar falling madly in love from looking at each other through a pond. Very sweet, though I knew from the beginning it was going to be doomed as they would never be in each other's worlds #GoldenCompass. BUT little did I know how tragic it really would turn out.
You see, normally I would do a prereading of every book I read to the kids but this was the first day back after holiday and things were going a bit crazy. I just asked a lovely boy to pick out a story before launching into reading it with full voices and actions, made up as I go.
The gist of the story was that the two fall in love and promise each other they will never change - you see how this is beginning to get risky. 1. both a tadpole and caterpillar are both very limited forms and 2. youth must mature.
Also, the caterpillar has a beautiful rainbow stripe down her side which the tadpole falls in love with and calls "his rainbow" BUT the caterpillar keeps coming to the pond and discovering her lover has once again changed and she is heartbroken. When the tadpole begins to grow it's front legs, loses his tail, and has back legs, she announces this is the last straw and strops off in a hump. Eventually she comes to her senses but by now she has also changed. So she flies as a butterfly back to the pond to say she will always love the tadpole no matter how he changes, but this time she sees a frog. As she goes to fly in to ask the frog where the tadpole has gone...he leaps up and swallows the butterfly whole. The last line is "so the frog waited on his lilypad, always wondering where his rainbow went."
This is the point when the children began to scream. Not little shrieks, but full out Home Alone wails and it wasn't long before I realised I was screaming equally as loud with them. Not only do they not end up together, but he consumes her entirely and doesn't even know it!
Luckily there were no tears, only screams of disbelief and shock. Once the screams died down we did burst into a fit of giggles from being so caught off guard. I quickly moved on to a round of singing Che Che Koolay before dismissing them to free choice.
I can't wait for parent comments and questions tomorrow or my nightmares tonight.
Here is the worst:
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Planned bedtime
I live with 3 guys. I enjoy it and much prefer it to living with 3 girls (no offence to 203). There is less drama and a lot less fuss, but there are some trade offs.
First of all, I take pride in my appearance...sometimes, most times, whatever. When I lived with girls, I didn't care who saw me without makeup/hair done etc, because they lived the same struggle as me. Night time was when the monsters came out. But living here, I always feel like guys are some superficial being with the IQ of a toaster. Of course they know we wear makeup. Of course they can probably predict what I look like without makeup - I am not Pamela Anderson, no one could predict that mess. But somehow this misconception of men's understanding has led me to planning my bedtime routines. When do I shower? When do I remove makeup? When does my hair get washed? When is it necessary to wear a bra? When do I really NEED to get out of my pjs? In 203, I remember a period of time where the girls and I wore pajamas all day, every day unless we absolutely had to change (which usually meant we were going some place fancier than a mall, because knowing us we were still in comfy clothes there too). Basically we could be the biggest dirt squirrels on the planet and none of the opposite sex/interested sex would know, because when we wanted to lure them in, we sorted ourselves out.
In my current situation, I leave my make up on as long as possible which is a change for me. I used to come home from work (around 6) and immediately take out my contacts and off came the makeup. Now, it's burning onto my skull until I know I can no longer keep my eyes open. Why, you might ask, do I need it on? Well...if anyone were to knock on my door, then I would need to look respectable. And in case you were wondering, no one ever does. That is, knock/come home when my makeup is on. The exact moment that they do is always approximately 7 minutes after I have removed all disguises. This leads me to hiding in my room, with the lights off, and headphones in. Great, that's healthy...not.
I also plan my shower routine, which usually involves lurking into the stall around 4:00 pm (when I get home now because I live so close to work) so that no one is around when I skulk back to my room with my drowned rat hair. Who showers in the afternoon? Manual labourers and kindergardeners, is who.
It is a small price to pay for a drama-free and very entertaining household. So I will continue to linger like a cave troll during late nights. I am excited for my cousin Meg to join us soon and experience what I do. Hopefully united we will stand and stay in comfy clothes as long as we want! Huzzah!
First of all, I take pride in my appearance...sometimes, most times, whatever. When I lived with girls, I didn't care who saw me without makeup/hair done etc, because they lived the same struggle as me. Night time was when the monsters came out. But living here, I always feel like guys are some superficial being with the IQ of a toaster. Of course they know we wear makeup. Of course they can probably predict what I look like without makeup - I am not Pamela Anderson, no one could predict that mess. But somehow this misconception of men's understanding has led me to planning my bedtime routines. When do I shower? When do I remove makeup? When does my hair get washed? When is it necessary to wear a bra? When do I really NEED to get out of my pjs? In 203, I remember a period of time where the girls and I wore pajamas all day, every day unless we absolutely had to change (which usually meant we were going some place fancier than a mall, because knowing us we were still in comfy clothes there too). Basically we could be the biggest dirt squirrels on the planet and none of the opposite sex/interested sex would know, because when we wanted to lure them in, we sorted ourselves out.
In my current situation, I leave my make up on as long as possible which is a change for me. I used to come home from work (around 6) and immediately take out my contacts and off came the makeup. Now, it's burning onto my skull until I know I can no longer keep my eyes open. Why, you might ask, do I need it on? Well...if anyone were to knock on my door, then I would need to look respectable. And in case you were wondering, no one ever does. That is, knock/come home when my makeup is on. The exact moment that they do is always approximately 7 minutes after I have removed all disguises. This leads me to hiding in my room, with the lights off, and headphones in. Great, that's healthy...not.
I also plan my shower routine, which usually involves lurking into the stall around 4:00 pm (when I get home now because I live so close to work) so that no one is around when I skulk back to my room with my drowned rat hair. Who showers in the afternoon? Manual labourers and kindergardeners, is who.
It is a small price to pay for a drama-free and very entertaining household. So I will continue to linger like a cave troll during late nights. I am excited for my cousin Meg to join us soon and experience what I do. Hopefully united we will stand and stay in comfy clothes as long as we want! Huzzah!
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
50 Shades
When the book 50 Shades of Grey came out, I suddenly became a literary snob. Me - who enjoys a good Dan Brown novel, or most of the books sold at the HMV paying counter - I, became a highbrow book reader. I had to suppress my revolted face when people mentioned they were reading it. One time an acquaintance in passing, asked if I had read it. I responded with a cringe and sneered that I would never sink to that level, only for him to tell me he was just wondering my thoughts because his girlfriend was reading it. I lost a lot of would-be friends over this book. I had half a thought to write good ol' E. L. myself, telling her that her piece of trash book ruined perfectly good dinner dates and staff meetings because I could not contain my rage toward her "record-breaking book."
Then I read it.
Not just it, but all three.
In a row. Within five days.
People who know me well, know I am in a particularly low point in my life and I have found that this cycle tends to repeat itself on me. I think my life does this to simply remind me to be humble and try new things.
The book came to me in a whisper of a thought from months ago when visiting my friend Dub in Toronto. She nearly convinced me then to read it then, when she said that women she looked up to or thought were respectable at work, had told her to read it because they enjoyed it so much. Dub reads good books and even SHE was going to read it.
I had been trying to read Cloud Atlas during this particularly hard time in my life, when I realised I was retaining nothing. It was like trying to read Le Petit Prince in grade 11 French class, when the only phrase in French I could recognise at this point was "puis-je aller aux toilet." After trying to read maybe 30 pages of the Cloud Atlas, and only absorbing the first sentence, I knew something was off. I found myself staring at this supposedly intelligent piece of literature with only the muppets song, Manamana, replaying in my mind. This is a big warning sign for me. 30 pages in two weeks is bad. It's Karen-Thomas-reading-New-York bad.
It was then that I knew I needed to feed my brain complete and utter trash. I managed to look up the latest Clive Cussler book and even one of my old Nancy Drews about a hunt for a missing key to the room in a cabin on summer holidays, cleverly titled, Nancy Drew and the Hunt for a Missing Key to the Room in the Cabin on Summer Holidays. It was then that I saw it calling to me in the store one day on the way to work. The shining silver necktie against a dark black background, beckoning to me like the One Ring calling to Frodo, urging him to slip it onto his finger. I was sold. I also realised I'm glad I wasn't a hobbit in middle earth responsible for carrying the ring to its destruction, as I would put that ring on every time. Every. Single. Time.
I then bought the first book on my kindle to hide my secret shame away from the world.
Needless to say it captivated me and although I am ashamed to admit it, I cannot wait for her to write another book. I don't even mind that I turned bright red when I read it on the tube, or had to put the book down whenever someone under the age of 18 or over the age of 50 sat next to me. I could live with my crutch.
My only problem now is that I have finished the books but am not out of my low-time life phase. I have started Snow Falling On Cedars, but I am worried this might also take some brain power. If anyone has any suggestions as to what I might be able to rip through, please let me know. I am open to anything that will captivate and allow me to ignore real life as much as possible. Even if you have a great cereal box blurb, send it my way, I will chew through anything right now.
Anything.
Then I read it.
Not just it, but all three.
In a row. Within five days.
People who know me well, know I am in a particularly low point in my life and I have found that this cycle tends to repeat itself on me. I think my life does this to simply remind me to be humble and try new things.
The book came to me in a whisper of a thought from months ago when visiting my friend Dub in Toronto. She nearly convinced me then to read it then, when she said that women she looked up to or thought were respectable at work, had told her to read it because they enjoyed it so much. Dub reads good books and even SHE was going to read it.
I had been trying to read Cloud Atlas during this particularly hard time in my life, when I realised I was retaining nothing. It was like trying to read Le Petit Prince in grade 11 French class, when the only phrase in French I could recognise at this point was "puis-je aller aux toilet." After trying to read maybe 30 pages of the Cloud Atlas, and only absorbing the first sentence, I knew something was off. I found myself staring at this supposedly intelligent piece of literature with only the muppets song, Manamana, replaying in my mind. This is a big warning sign for me. 30 pages in two weeks is bad. It's Karen-Thomas-reading-New-York bad.
It was then that I knew I needed to feed my brain complete and utter trash. I managed to look up the latest Clive Cussler book and even one of my old Nancy Drews about a hunt for a missing key to the room in a cabin on summer holidays, cleverly titled, Nancy Drew and the Hunt for a Missing Key to the Room in the Cabin on Summer Holidays. It was then that I saw it calling to me in the store one day on the way to work. The shining silver necktie against a dark black background, beckoning to me like the One Ring calling to Frodo, urging him to slip it onto his finger. I was sold. I also realised I'm glad I wasn't a hobbit in middle earth responsible for carrying the ring to its destruction, as I would put that ring on every time. Every. Single. Time.
I then bought the first book on my kindle to hide my secret shame away from the world.
Needless to say it captivated me and although I am ashamed to admit it, I cannot wait for her to write another book. I don't even mind that I turned bright red when I read it on the tube, or had to put the book down whenever someone under the age of 18 or over the age of 50 sat next to me. I could live with my crutch.
My only problem now is that I have finished the books but am not out of my low-time life phase. I have started Snow Falling On Cedars, but I am worried this might also take some brain power. If anyone has any suggestions as to what I might be able to rip through, please let me know. I am open to anything that will captivate and allow me to ignore real life as much as possible. Even if you have a great cereal box blurb, send it my way, I will chew through anything right now.
Anything.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Growing Up
All I wanted when I was younger was to be older. I remember saying at 10 with my cousin Megan, "let's pretend we're 17 and we are dating the Hanson brothers." Then as 17 got closer, my dreams kept getting pushed back. Daydreaming about being 20 and working in a music store, or dating someone famous or getting married and having kids by 23. Now I'm 25 but I haven't been able to wrap my mind around pushing dates back. I want to have kids before I'm 30. I want to own a house. I want to live near my family. I want to be established in my career. But here are the hiccups:
- If I want to have kids before I'm 30, I would like to be married. That means a wedding, which takes a year to plan. So even if I got engaged today I wouldn't be married until I am nearly 27. Then I don't want to have kids right away. I want to travel and see the world before mine becomes limited to my child's world. At the earliest we are looking at having a kid at 30. I want 4 children. So even if I have a baby every other year, I am looking at mid to late 30s.
-This entire plan also revolves around Mr. Right. Mr. Bond is great but we both have life goals that have to be met before we want to get married. So if that person wants to make other life goals, the plan is pushed back even further.
-Also it is unlikely at my age that I will date someone famous (besides Bond) or become famous. The cream of the crop is getting picked around what, 12 now? Yikes. I have expired...at 25. Womp womp.
- For careers - does anyone ever feel settled in theirs? I thought I would be killing it with teaching and be on the front cover of Education Weekly or Time Magazine. Nope. I still go day-by-day hoping not to say the wrong thing or scar my children for life.
Also, being nearer to 30 than 19 is a scary thought. I still think my Mum is 30, so the idea that she had me close to the age I am now makes me want to go back to the fetal position. I still identify myself as being a university student who lives a certain lifestyle, even though it has been a lonnnng time since I have come close to that way of living. I realized also that I have never learned or picked up on certain things. Things, I assumed that I would just somehow, one day know even though I have taken no steps toward learning them or gaining these skills in the meantime. I have compiled a list to fully round off my terrifying realizations.
1. Cooking - I can't do it. I always remember my Mum cooking these huge meals that were well-balanced and wholesome. I can cook 3 things and one of them is a salad.
2. Buying bananas - I can never get it right. When I want a banana, I go buy them realizing I have to wait a minimum of four days before they are the colour of my liking. I don't have that kind of foresight. I just go banana-less
3. Buying cards/presents on time - how do people do it months in advance or plan sending cards at the appropriate times. Even living in another country, which would hopefully make me think I need to send things even earlier, I can't. All of your Christmas cards will arrive in February. You're welcome.
4. Laundry - Every white shirt Bond has ever owned is now a bleak grey. When will I start seeing the value in sorting? If not at 25, then when???
5. Finances - I remember when I was in fourth year uni, my very conscientious friend Kaitlin had saved money her whole life to buy a house when she was older. She asked me how much I had saved. I hadn't. "That's for when I get older" was my actual response. Now I am older and none the wiser.
6. Hosting Dinner Parties - I realize this goes with cooking, but it also goes with owning a house, having friends where you live, and ultimately having a dining room/eating table. I don't even know how I would go about planning a meal for more than 2 people, let alone planning an actual time when a giant meal would be served. I never understood how people know when a meal will be cooked by. I mean, when it looks brown, I can eat it...right?
7. Math - who CAN do math? I saw a picture on the internet that described how I see math exactly. Here it is:
I am sure one day I will magically learn these things if I keep wishing for them when the digital clocks read 11:11 or when blowing out birthday candles. But now that I have told you...maybe my wishes won't come true. Nuts.
- If I want to have kids before I'm 30, I would like to be married. That means a wedding, which takes a year to plan. So even if I got engaged today I wouldn't be married until I am nearly 27. Then I don't want to have kids right away. I want to travel and see the world before mine becomes limited to my child's world. At the earliest we are looking at having a kid at 30. I want 4 children. So even if I have a baby every other year, I am looking at mid to late 30s.
-This entire plan also revolves around Mr. Right. Mr. Bond is great but we both have life goals that have to be met before we want to get married. So if that person wants to make other life goals, the plan is pushed back even further.
-Also it is unlikely at my age that I will date someone famous (besides Bond) or become famous. The cream of the crop is getting picked around what, 12 now? Yikes. I have expired...at 25. Womp womp.
- For careers - does anyone ever feel settled in theirs? I thought I would be killing it with teaching and be on the front cover of Education Weekly or Time Magazine. Nope. I still go day-by-day hoping not to say the wrong thing or scar my children for life.
Also, being nearer to 30 than 19 is a scary thought. I still think my Mum is 30, so the idea that she had me close to the age I am now makes me want to go back to the fetal position. I still identify myself as being a university student who lives a certain lifestyle, even though it has been a lonnnng time since I have come close to that way of living. I realized also that I have never learned or picked up on certain things. Things, I assumed that I would just somehow, one day know even though I have taken no steps toward learning them or gaining these skills in the meantime. I have compiled a list to fully round off my terrifying realizations.
1. Cooking - I can't do it. I always remember my Mum cooking these huge meals that were well-balanced and wholesome. I can cook 3 things and one of them is a salad.
2. Buying bananas - I can never get it right. When I want a banana, I go buy them realizing I have to wait a minimum of four days before they are the colour of my liking. I don't have that kind of foresight. I just go banana-less
3. Buying cards/presents on time - how do people do it months in advance or plan sending cards at the appropriate times. Even living in another country, which would hopefully make me think I need to send things even earlier, I can't. All of your Christmas cards will arrive in February. You're welcome.
4. Laundry - Every white shirt Bond has ever owned is now a bleak grey. When will I start seeing the value in sorting? If not at 25, then when???
5. Finances - I remember when I was in fourth year uni, my very conscientious friend Kaitlin had saved money her whole life to buy a house when she was older. She asked me how much I had saved. I hadn't. "That's for when I get older" was my actual response. Now I am older and none the wiser.
6. Hosting Dinner Parties - I realize this goes with cooking, but it also goes with owning a house, having friends where you live, and ultimately having a dining room/eating table. I don't even know how I would go about planning a meal for more than 2 people, let alone planning an actual time when a giant meal would be served. I never understood how people know when a meal will be cooked by. I mean, when it looks brown, I can eat it...right?
7. Math - who CAN do math? I saw a picture on the internet that described how I see math exactly. Here it is:
I am sure one day I will magically learn these things if I keep wishing for them when the digital clocks read 11:11 or when blowing out birthday candles. But now that I have told you...maybe my wishes won't come true. Nuts.
2013
With a New Year already started, I have made a few resolutions. One of them is to promise myself to write a blog entry at least once a week. I think writing puts me in a better frame of mind and helps me concentrate on what is really important in life - observational comedy. I am also hoping the blog will motivate me to get through my book list this year. I make a reading list at the beginning of every kind of "life change" or "new time" such as Christmas holiday, Summer holiday, New Year, etc. I almost never get through the list. As shown in an earlier post, most of the books on my new list are still there. I am drawn in by new British book covers and book recommendations. Poor Teacher Man has been on my list for almost a decade. So I have resolved to finish the books on my list before agreeing to read any news ones.
So here it is, the 2013 book list:
Now I also have a list of Recommended books but they will not be added until this list is done. This list also does not include the books I receive monthly from my Book Group that must be read before the second Tuesday of every month. I am sure with my daily 2 hour commute that I should be able to smash this list.
If you have any comments from reading any of these books or suggestions please feel free to comment! Better get reading!
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