Prom.

So Maria and I went to chaperone prom last night, which was at the aquarium. There is nothing quite like watching a large group of outlandishly dressed young men and women shaking and gyrating and lilting from side to side to side all while standing in front of a fish tank that is literally larger than my house. Now I know that this is nothing too amazing, but let me continue. Highlights of my night included:

1. Petting a star-fish. 

2. Letting a sea anemone try to eat my hand (they are surprisingly sticky, by the way).

3. Taking a photograph of myself and Maria that will look frighteningly like the cover of a Blondie record.

and 4. The game. 

The game was simple. Maria, Scott, Greg, and I made a list of things that we would look for. These were simple, observable things such as "Best Dressed" (Tony and Lael) "Cutest Couple" (Robbie and whats-her-name) and "Most/Least fabric" (Melissa, who wore a Victorian couch, and that girl in the not-really-a-dress piece of cloth that appeared to be glued to her mid-section). 

None of these were as cool, though, as the following (somewhat appropriate) category. 

"Looks most like a fish"

I thought that two of my journalism kids were pretty good candidates for this, not because of their actual physical appearances, but because of the colors which they chose to incorporate into their ensemble. After all, a tight-fitting aquamarine dress does resemble a mermaid. This is true, and not up for debate. And mermaids are sort of fish, right? 

Right?

There was also this category, which was fun, but was almost immediately dealt with.

"First tears" (she'd lost her tickets. sad.)

And finally, "Most likely to arrive as a couple but leave separately." I don't know if anybody pulled this one off, but I hope there is a story to go along with it. 

Procrastinating.

I am trying really hard not to grade the pile of essays I just found.

So I will mourn my Huskies by watching the Hawks lose.

This is becoming very typically Seattle.

I, for one, am finally speechless. (Almost)

    Today I have done the following things:

1. Sat down with Vice Principal Murphy to discuss my stalker. I was convinced, initially, that all I needed to do was make my boss aware that I was aware of the issue. As I told her what was going on, it became clear to me that things were much, much worse than I'd realized. Suffice it to say that I do not desire to play ANY all ages shows. 

2. Made a friend cry. More on that when I have distance and perspective.

3. Napped for far too long.

4. Been chewed out by our activities coordinator.

5. Forgotten to purchase tickets to a show for a friend.

6. Lost a FULL PILE of student essays that I needed to grade tonight.

    This is a hell of a list, I know. But here's the thing: I. Am. Okay. With. It.

    

    I heard a sermon on Tuesday that reminded me, vis-a-vis the story of Exodus, to place God in the center of everything, much in the same way as the Temple sat at the center of Jewish life, both physically and spiritually. There is a freedom that comes with this. On days like this I get to throw my hands in the air and say "Okay God... Where are we going with this one?"

    And it is so wonderful to say "we."

Grrr....

I have to go talk to the vice principal tomorrow about a student I have who is quickly becoming a stalker. 

(I was trying to find a funny picture to link through the word "stalker." That did not work well at all.... *shudder*)

A seven dollar and sixty cent meal.

    This is geeky. Like, really, stupendously geeky.

    Every Tuesday, I order the same meal from the same Thai place. To go. Every time. I then proceed to go home and consume said meal in its entirety. So here, you see, is the problem. In essence, I am eating two meals. There is enough phad see yew on my plate to save some for lunch the next day and still be satisfied, but I seem to be COMPLETELY INCAPABLE OF STOPPING. It's like "hey.... this is good. I should continue eating it."

    Now, don't get me wrong. There is nothing inherently bad about this. Except that I want to die every time I finish licking the plate clean (that is not a figure of speech, by the way). There is too damn much food to be consumed in a single sitting, yet I insist upon doing it, against my better judgement and against all that experience has taught me. 

    Seriously. WTFUCK. 

    Did you know that the definition of insanity, according to clinical psychologists, is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?"

     (Umm.... is there a little wiggle room here for those of us who really, really like Thai food? Please?)

    ****

    At school today: 

    Student: Would it be better to turn in a good essay late, or a bad essay on-time?

    Me: Are you asking me to do math in my head?

    Student: No.... I.... just.... well.... which is better?

    Me: I have never, nor will I ever, do the math required to know the answer to that question.

    Student: *shakes head... snaps fingers... walks away*

    Seriously?

When did this happen?

Sometime ago I gave up my dream of ever, ever, ever being a rock star. It wasn't really ever even a dream, actually. For years and years all I've really expected to get out of playing music was the joy of simply playing it. This has been true for virtually every band I've ever been in.

Examples:

This Failing State. This was a pretty cool band, but was so strange and obscure that I can't imagine anybody every really listening to it, let alone enjoying it much. We played in lame bars all over the all-too-well-known metropolis of Bellingham, WA. Wheee.

The Charity Stripe. Again, a pretty different sort of band. Very "Ken Stringfellow meets Karate meets Minus The Bear." There was moderate success here, but nothing to write home about.

So now I play with a group called Kate Tucker and the Sons of Sweden. I'm not sure how good it is, but good things are happening. I submit the following information:

Today at school, which happened to be a puppy-free day, a co-worker said to me "Hey, I was in Starbucks yesterday and heard your band playing." 

Umm.... what? I'll admit that I knew things were happening on that front. But I never actually thought anything would happen. So now we're getting played all over. ALL OVER. And it leaves me with a significant problem:

I just spent six years and something like 60,000 dollars to do what I do now. What happens if something BIG, something really, really BIG takes place with this? What then? Am I legitimately expected to up and leave? To tour? 

I'll admit, though, that this is not a bad problem to have. But what to do, children, what to do? 

From the wonderful world of high school.

So a few things.

1. Sorry about the lack of posts. School is lunacy.

2. A story.

I'm at school today, during fourth period, which, praise Jesus, is my planning period. This means that I can go to first or second lunch (oh the choices!), and can meet with students who need help no matter which lunch they have. This said, it's first lunch and, because my room is right next to the Hub, students are milling about outside my door. I know this because I can hear them. All the time. (Note: I am working on collecting proof that students have virtually no settings between "off" and "full speed ahead." I have actually begun referring to them as puppies, largely because of this striking similarity). 

So.... kids milling about outside. A few kids eating lunch in the (relative) quiet of my room. I'm working on something of no consequence (which I tend to do a fair amount of; it turns out that if I can create the illusion of being hard at work students will leave me alone), when (I promise I'm not making this up) a garbage can immediately outside my room EXPLODES. 

It fucking exploded. 

Now, this is interesting without any back story, but the back story makes it funnier. 

On this particular day we had a dual "Earthquake/Fire Drill." This was odd enough. (Is the building going to catch ablaze after it has crumbled? The ENTIRE building is CONCRETE. It will not burn). This means that the Fire Department was there. What idiot kid blows up a garbage can when the Fire Department is there? Unbelievable...

So, moving on. I have no idea (initially) that the explosion was a dry ice bomb. It sounded like a gun. (Which terrified me). And, in light of the recent school shootings in Finland, I was more than a tad freaked out. Now, ask yourself a question: If I heard what might be gun shots, followed by screaming, what would I do? Better question: What would a puppy do? Yup. Investigate. Immediately, as though on cue, a student runs to the door and OPENS IT. 

Pause. Who runs towards the sounds of gun shots? 

Un-Pause. I stare like an idiot as she comes back in and says "the garbage can is smoking." 

Me: Um.... why did you open the door?

Her: I'm a lifeguard. I'm legally required to investigate any situation where somebody might be hurt.

Me: *shakes head* Really? Really? 

Her: *stares like a fish* What?

Me: I don't think you're quite qualified to deal with explosions...

Her: *silence... followed by* It's the law.

Students = Puppies.