Lame Ass or I'm an idiot, you decide.

I can't even write a post I'm so annoyed. Insecurity makes people do stupid things. That's it. It is definitely raining in my tiramisu.

oh yeah and- my patterns suck.

UPDATE- so one of my patterns is to get irrationally angry without really thinking through a situation. Tonight I did this. So I went and made a mess, and posted about it en plus. Then, post mess, it all got explained to me and I feel like an idiot. I remember saying before that patience is a virtue with which I am not blessed. Lo and behold, I just needed to be patient. It is now only misty in my tiramisu. I might just stay inside though.

The Worst Week Part Deux

I just discovered that my students did not perform as well as one would wish on a certain exam. I am completely devastated. Not only because I needed this to happen , given the dearth of positive things in my life as of late, but because we really need to do well this year if we want to continue to function as a school. It isn't that bad, it is just not what I wanted. I feel as if it reflects poorly on me as a leader and that bums me out. I try and try and I just want them to succeed, the teachers, the kids, everyone. I always look at myself before I look at any other factor in the equation, which I suppose is good, but also very bad. I am not responsible for the world! I need to remember that. Currently I am a basketcase of nerves and anticipation. If the children only knew how much I worried! Oh well. School is almost out and I can almost taste the summer. I can't wait to see my girls everyday and play in the sun. I can't stop too long to think about things or I might just crumble, so all I can do is remember to "beat on , like [a] boat against the current." The only thing I can think is "oy."

The Worst Week

So I am once again over extended and all stressed out. I have a ridiculous few weeks ahead of me. However, I have finally figured out a way to be happy professionally. Now I just need to make it happen. Hooray. Meanwhile, I am nesting with the Birdman. Listening to P.I.L, Freestyle Fellowship, and all manner of weirdness. Good things. I can't wait for summer. . . Oh and the kids (my kids) are amost out of school, so for for sure there will be horse backriding, beach going and tons of fun in the near future. For now I am looking forward to Mommy Day like never before. I hope I get a macaroni necklace. . . .

Sunday Fun and pattern recognition

I spent the day being incredibly pleased that I live in a beach city. Fun in Venice Beach without fighting traffic and paying 15 dollars to park. Awesome. I am hoping this summer is just as incredible as today. The Kid hung out with me most of the day and I did some bizarre things for a woman my age, but hey you only live once. I realized today that I am not at all used to the weirdness of Venice. My weekend of staying in my neighborhood (west of Lincoln only for you Angelenos that read this) consisted of: bad poetry celebrating mother Earth, cabaret singing, hippie dancers, a woman taking a cigarette from me then calling me a bitch after blowing smoke on my head, sixty year old rockers, cat ladies, men in chiffon scarves, and a crazy guy called Blackbird.
Patterns are breaking. Only slightly though.

Home. Home. Home.

Tonight is my farewell "supper," as my mother calls it. I am, as usual, both happy and sad. I complain about coming here, then get sad to leave. Oh well. I had a nice time shopping with Mama. Although, I am annoyed that I have an impossible body to shop for. Even in the South, I can't find any clothes! Whatever will I do? I must find someone to make things for me! That's the solution. Too bad I'm not rich, I would have great clothes. Anyway, I'm going home to work, work, and more work. Ugh.
Now I shall partake in some adult beverages and forget about the damn kids. (Not you, Arie and Noush, those other kids).

Downtown is calling

So here I am in Savannah. My parents have a new house in the suburbs of a small town. There is nothing to do. Note to self-come with someone next time.

Why'd you gotta change my 213?

Change is upon us my friends. I have officially arrived. Here in LA, that is. That's right, I changed my number. I have released the 415 and everything associated with it. Memories. . .Fuck em! I am back to being a 213 girl. I fought hard with AT&T to get a 213, and it worked. She's back baby! My life moves one direction. . . FORWARD. And what the hell is 424 anyway?