call me cart lady.

(I cannot emphasize the "r" in the title enough. CART lady, not cat lady. I have to draw the line somewhere).

I'll explain the title via an equation:
Certified high school English teacher + no classroom = cart lady

A couple days ago I had a meeting at Lehi high where I'll be teaching in the fall (you don't know this because I never bother to mention anything remotely pertinent on this blog. Sorry). Toward the start of the meeting the head of my department casually said, "...and you know you're a traveling teacher, right?"

Here's what happened in my head: First, I imagined tearing my shirt in half grief-style, while yelling: "No, I didn't know that! That's why all my teacher-fantasies have included decorating my classroom and being super organized and finally finally having my own space! I was going to hang Jack Handy quotes on the wall!" Followed by me hitting my head repeatedly on a desk.

Here's what happened in real life: "Oh."

Essentially, the district is unable to build schools as fast as we need them, so teachers are having to share their classrooms to supplement the growing demand. For me, this means I'll be teaching in four different classrooms and hauling my crap on a cart in between class periods. I'll be homeless.

I dealt with this blow in the following stages:
1. Denial. (this followed shortly after the scenario above). "Oh? No classroom? Well that's great, actually. I'm too much of a free spirit anyway. I'd rather be homeless--what an adventure!" (And I continued trying to channel star-girl attitude).
2. Admitting disappointment. I almost tricked myself into thinking I was happy about the gypsy-esque nature of my job but then, when I was home and cleaning my kitchen, I let out a sigh and said, "Crap." Once this was said, my star-girl facade faded.
3. Chocolate chip-eating. This was the only treat I could find in our inadequately-treat-stocked apartment.
4."Oh, well."

Whining is not going to change the fact that I don't have a classroom. So, despite this being a far from ideal situation, I'm going to have to make the best of it. I think I'm (maybe) up for the challenge. After brainstorming with my family, here are some activities I'll be able to do as a cart lady that would have otherwise gone untapped:
1. Entering class daily in a weird pose atop a rolling cart.
2. Selling candy bars to students from my cart/trolley between classes to supplement my low income. (I'm particularly fond of this idea).
3. Bedazzling said cart.
4. "Accidentally" ramming annoying students with cart.
5. Riding cart down ramp while squealing, "weeeeeee."

Wish me luck. Oh, and here's my "classroom":

30 rock

It's probably a good thing Conlin doesn't watch 30 rock with me because I'm a rather annoying TV-watching partner. Especially with a show like 30 rock. I pause the show approximately 25 times each episode to laugh appropriately; if I don't pause the show while laughing (and letting the jokes fully sink in) then I miss other hilarious moments. For instance, below is a screen capture of a moment on last week's episode:

In the background is a movie poster of Tracy Jordan labelled "White Cop, Black Cop." I don't know how well you can see it, but it displays two pictures of Tracy: one normal, one in "White face." And below it says "One does the duty, the other gets the bootie."

I was lucky to catch this. Which makes me wonder: how many other beautiful moments have I missed in my 30 rock watching?! Maybe when Holden gets back from his mission we'll have a 30 rock marathon.

On an unrelated note: I apologize for the total lack of theme this blog offers. Considering I have chosen a profession which teaches students about organization, this may worry some of you. And I have no words of comfort.

birdy

I love Bon Iver's Skinny Love as well, but appreciate this rendition.  She also does a good cover of The District Sleeps Alone Tonight.  I think my brother should marry her--they could be starving artists together (although, with her semi-fame, they could probably afford to eat and then just pretend to be starving artists).

ick.

I was on the fence about this song, until I saw the video:



After which I promptly made up my mind: no, thank you.
I'm just not ready for the resurrection of the boy band.

feminist word vomit.

I fear this post may be misinterpreted. I'm not aiming to offend or alienate anyone, I just have some thoughts.

I read a blog earlier today that got me thinking. It was written by a young, pregnant wife who works full time and goes to school; on top of this schedule, she's been incredibly sick. In the post she writes about how guilty she feels because she doesn't cook 2+ meals a day for her husband.

Hold up.

Despite the fact she has a completely full and overwhelming schedule plus constant nausea, she feels guilty for not cooking? Seriously? I find this ridiculous.

I rarely cook because 1) I'm too picky to be any good, 2) I have no time and 3) I don't find cooking particularly fulfilling. And I feel very little guilt over this because, guess what? Conlin never cooks. So in my book, we're even. We're both really busy and I see nothing inherently feminine about cooking, so WHY would this automatically fall on my shoulders?

I have nothing against wives who cook. In fact, I applaud them in most cases. What I resent is the unquestioned expectation society has placed on wives and "woman's work." If girls want to cook because it makes them happy, then fantastic. If they only cook to satisfy the bigoted expectations of their husbands, I have a problem.

It really bothers me that husbands and wives fall automatically into prescribed roles, without stopping to analyze if the roles actually suit their talents, desires, temperaments, etc.

I got lucky with Conlin. Never once has he gotten after me for not living up to the perfect, mormon wife persona to which many adhere. But outside of my family, I've had some bothersome interactions.

Since getting married, I've noticed one focal change (regarding feminism. There were, obviously, other changes). When I'd meet people for the first time, previous to my marriage, they'd ask me what I was doing in school, what I wanted to do with my life, etc. Now, when people meet Conlin and me, they ask Conlin what he's doing, and all too often forget to ask me anything at all. Conlin's ambitious and talented so it's great people ask him about his goals, but it's insulting that they assume I'm dream-less. Does the fact I have ovaries disqualify me from a career? Should I feel guilty for wanting to do more than cook and clean countertops?

My being female does not give you the right to limit me.

If I decide to be a stay-at-home mom at some point in my life, it will be because I CHOOSE to do so and it is the best thing for me and my family, NOT BECAUSE IT IS MY OVARY-DRIVEN JOB. (the caps-lock is to give that last phrase an, "I'm at the pulpit banging my fist, and pumping up the crowd thing", not an "I'm yelling at you in particular thing").

I really, truly see nothing wrong with women who cook, or choose child-rearing over working (my mom did and I'll be forever grateful for it). I see something wrong with women doing so because society tells them they must.

Internet Safety

I'm taking a technology class with an emphasis in teaching. Thus far, I've created a class website and am currently working on an internet safety page. Whilst working on this, I left my page up while I went to grab something. When I came back, Conlin had commandeered my computer and was about to publish the following:

"So one day I was chatting online with a man I had met on eharmony.com. He seemed really nice and genuine, plus his pictures of himself were sexy. While chatting he asked if I wanted to meet. I agreed. So we met at this park near my house. As he approached me at the park, I noticed that this man didnt look like the sexy guy in the pictures. He looked deformed and obese. I saw that he was packing heat. He forced me into his black box van. That day he did things to me that I cannot even speak about again. From this I learned that eharmony was more like epedophile."

Hahahahahaha.
Good heavens. And this is my life partner.

resolutions + shallow thoughts

I gave up making New Years resolutions a few years ago because, as Homer Simpson believes, "Trying is the first step to failure."

But I went to the gym this morning and have decided to declare a single resolution for 2012.
I want my legs and head to be proportionate by the end of the year.
EVERY time I go to the gym I am distraught by my reflection--I look like I have little head syndrome. Or big leg syndrome. I think my head is actually a relatively normal size, which leads me to believe my problem is likely the latter... Anyway, I just want them to look like they belong on the same body, which means one of two things needs to happen:

1. I could get head enlargement surgery. (Although I'm not sure technology is thus evolved).
2. I could slim down my legs just a titch.

You'll notice my goal is not to rock a bikini or look good in jeans (maybe 2013?) I just want to look evenly distributed. I'm not sure this is actually possible, seeing as my body has changed very little since the 8th grade (yes, I've been ogre-esque for a loooong time). Still, a girl can dream.

Also, continuing this stream of shallow thoughts:

This last Thanksgiving break I suffered a hardship. I lost a single, perfect earring in Las Vegas. But when one door closes, another opens, right?

I just want to bear my testimony of tender mercies. I HAVE FOUND A PAIR OF EARRINGS MORE PERFECT THAN THE LAST! Can I get an AMEN?

(too sacrilegious? If not, should I work it into fast and testimony meeting?)