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Showing posts from March, 2013

Director Dickhead

I was not always the amazing swimmer so many of you have come to know and love. My first swim meet was a complete disaster. I was the kid who came in so last, everyone in the entire place was rooting for me just to finish, probably worried they were going to have to jump in after me.

Pathetic? Yes. My fault? I say no.

The entire experience was obviously created by some sadist, some retired swimmer who never made it past summer league and was looking to make sure some of us three to five year olds didn't seek out swimming for sport or fun ever again. In my opinion, the competition was flawed from inception. First of all, the first race a kid can enter should be a do-whatever-movement-you-can-to-make-it-to-the-other-side type of event. And maybe not all swim meets do this, but the only event this one had available for my age group was flutter kicking with a kick board. What the fuck? That's not even a real event.

It's as if someone thought it'd be hilarious to make a bun…

100th Post!

I wrote my first blog post on September 22, 2010. I wouldn't say it's my best post but at this point, even if it's a little cringeworthy for me to look back on, I'm happy I did it. And actually, I'm pretty damn proud of myself in general for putting 100 of these babies together. Sometimes I think my blog doesn't really have a purpose because it doesn't focus on any one specific category of interest, and this is what "they" suggest bloggers do to gain a following.

However, I argue (with myself) that it does serve a purpose. It's a representation of me...of my life. I have interests (and blog posts) talking about hiking and kayaking and camping and cock-tailing and education and work and family and any other random situation that I may encounter. These aspects of my life are what makes me, me. I'm proud of myself for just doing this, even if my blog isn't saved on everyone's computer, even if people aren't talking about my most r…

Neurotic Neurosis

My flight to San Francisco this past weekend was not great; actually it was completely terrifying with my having what I can only describe as a major panic attack. I have flown at least fifty times and while every single time I get nervous at takeoff and landing, I have never before faced the waves of panic that I endured on this trip. I have however, had this issue before...four separate times that I can easily recall.

The first time I can remember feeling like I couldn't control my thoughts, like I was a passenger and someone else was leading me away from a more rational route of thought was during a visit to Philadelphia. I was at a water park with some friends. We had probably waited, climbing the stairs in line for at least 45 minutes to reach the top of this huge slide. It was the kind of slide where you sit on a round party float with like three other people. I was totally fine as we climbed the stairs until we reached the platform right below the top. I looked down and reme…

You Work, You Get Paid

Recompense: (noun), payment for services rendered

The simple notion of providing a service or creating a product for compensation is not in anyway a new concept. For some reason, my employer has difficulty understanding exactly how to do this. I was supposed to be paid yesterday. When my husband went to pick up our checks, because once again direct deposit was not available, he had to sign his name stating he had seen the corresponding notice detailing why there was a holdup in our pay. Additionally, he was made aware that we couldn't actually cash or deposit our checks until Monday, six days later. Last time this happened, the time where we sat in a meeting and our employer explained how she had to pay the mortgage on the building, pay the utilities, etc...she said this would never happen again.

The notice said something about Title I monies not being made available to the schools on time--making it not possible for our checks to be on time. I don't have nearly enough patienc…

Dear Billie Joe Armstrong

Dear Billie Joe-

You don't mind my calling you Billie Joe, do you? Last names are such a formality and to be completely honest, I "feel" as if we are already on a first name basis. My name is Danielle by the way and I'm writing to tell you that my husband, Tyler, is in love with you. I'm sure you hear that all the time.

Love stories such as this cause me to wonder if you realize the impact you have on your fans, the connections they create with you and your music, and your words, and the energy you put into every single show. I could not even begin to delineate which Green Day song is his "favorite"; attractions to multiple songs dictated by his varying moods. I can however, share how it is not just about the music for him. It is your person, your in-the-moment-fuck-you-attitude that he probably secretly wishes he could embody on a daily basis. That attitude, as attractive as it is, is kind of a hard sell in the teaching profession. He may not be able t…

I Am Poems

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I started a mini-mini-poem unit with my seniors last week. I came across these gems and was reminded what great teachers and wonderful staff I've been able to work with. Thank you! [You can click on each poem to enlarge it.]


Lackman

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Have you ever spent so much time in a place to where its features become so familiar...almost home-like, but it's actually more special because it isn't home, and you don't have chores, and you don't really get in trouble, and the familial hierarchy doesn't really exist, and you can basically do whatever you want with your time? Growing up Lackman was my own personal summer camp except there weren't any counselors around to ruin my fun. I spent every single summer, from the year I turned three until I was in my teens at the small community pool, playground, and rec center. My mom was a lifeguard and swim instructor and by default I was her sidekick, her lifeguard and WSI (water safety instructor) in training. It is impossible for me to remember my childhood and not think of Lackman. It's also possible that the reasons I had such a difficult time adjusting to school is because of my sadness at having to say goodbye to this wonderful place each fall.  [See De…