Coulda Shoulda Woulda

I have been a busy little beaver in the past month- wrapping up the school year, traveling, river ratting, sharpening my teeth. So busy that I have not had a smidgen of time to do any serious blogging of sorts. Damn Shame. This does not, however, mean that I have not THOUGHT about my blog. I think about it all the time- In fact I think about it so much I thought I'd blog about thinking about my blog. Finally- A little motivation- RIGHHTTTT!

Here are my top 5 Blog Thoughts (with Abstract):

1.) I djflkanut NEW YORK



When I went to NYC a few weeks ago to visit friends from various parts of my life I learned three things about myself: 1.) When it comes to vintage clothes under $20 I have no control. 2.) I love Ramen. 3.)Heat + Humidity + One leaky wallet + UTTER FILTH = Me djflkanuting New York.

While I relished the time I spent with my friends, who I love dearly and with great passion, I really did not enjoy New York this time around. I mean don't get me wrong: The food was off the HOOK, the shopping rocked my frock, and the people are insanely beautiful. But the HEAT. THE HEAT. JESUS MARYSUS. Imagine 90 degree humidity holding hands with the infernal sun: On top of rotting trash, millions of sweaty, stinky pedestrians, constant mind-numbing consumption, and an eternal hangover: NYC you kicked my ass.

2.) THE ONE

That's it. It Happened. I'm completely, totally, head over heels, butt-crazy IN LOVE! You know how people who are partners-4-life tell you that they just KNEW on the first date- just KNEW. I understand that now. City of Oakland: I HECKA DO!

3.) To Clean or Not to Clean

The other day I was washing my dishes, and started laughing. This is it, I thought to myself. Cleaning: It's friggen awesome. Dear Mom, You win.

4.) The Road Not Taken

Life is full of infinite possibilities. And so is email. I recently started this game "The Road Not Taken" (inspired by the Robert Frost poem) with my friend Nick, wherein I give 5 possible responses to his last email. Now the first email thread was pretty cut and dry.He wrote something- I wrote 5 somethings back. However when the ball went over to Nick's court. The response thread grew. He gave five responses- one response per 5 responses I gave- Then 5 whole new responses to my email in summation. Resulting in 10 total responses.

Now of course, we could continue on like this. I could directly respond to his last 5 responses then create a whole new thread of 5 more responses totaling in 10 responses per email OR I could Experiment In Exploding The Universe By Dabbling In Exponential Infinity Popping or EIETUBDIEIP. Think painting of a painting of a painting or in Laymen's terms: Sheri Lewis's "Song that Never Ends."


Every response gets 5 responses. This would require alot of work on both Nick and I's part. We'd both have to be very committed- which is kind of ironic since the whole point of giving 5 responses is to not commit. In any case- EIETUBDIEIP is not for the light of heart. But then again- consider: The Road.


5.) Trader Jo'Mama



Trader Joe's is funny because they try to keep it real by giving "ethnic" branding to their diverse array of food items:

Trader Giotti
Trader Jose
Trader Ming

In any case I came up with a list of possible Traders and their corresponding products:

a.) Trader Joke: Vegan Prime Rib
b.) Trader Jonas Brothers: Static Free Hair Brush
c.) Trader Guzman (my cat): Corn on the Cob - he loves corn. loves...................................

ugh this one is a fail. i really tried. if you got anything Joe-wise let me know.

Party Accomplished

Zee Hosts

Lucky Josh Dodds

MOMMA!

Bluegrass Bandini's- My favorite song: H1N1

Yup

Ladies of the Lawn

Jukin'!


Mr.Coleman

Smile High Club

Before the mug breaks.

My backyard alight with the lucid night

Party for Party Sake

Being Mean

The best part of becoming friends with someone is when you can start making fun of them to their face. My friend Josh Dodds and I are at this very point in our relationship and I am loving it. Mcdonalds style. Today after we went to a brunch with a bunch of people we vaguely know we sat on my couch for an hour making fun/gushing over each other.

JD: Jess, I just love your hair. Maybe you should do it like this (starts playing with hair.)
JB: I like my hair. You are obsessed with my hair.
JD: I am obsessed with hair in general. Why is it so greasy?
JB: I put pomade in it.
JD: You put grease in your hair?
JB: Yup. Do You?
JD: Well, you know, I got to. You don't have to though.
JB: It gets puffy.
JD: Like frizzy?
JB: Like Puffy. Big.
JD: I don't think so. I think it would be fine without it. Do you put it in when it's wet or dry?
JB: Both. It depends. I put it in dry today.
JD: You should put it in wet.
JB: It's not as effective. I like the way it looks now.
JD: Yeah, it looks good.
JB: Exactly.
JD: I don't know Jess. It feels nasty.
JB: Nobody told you to put your hands in it.
JD: Right.

Oh and when I wrote "the best part of becoming friends with someone is when you can start making fun of them to their face." What I really meant to say was, "The best part of becoming friends with someone is when you can shamelessly talk about your hair and the other person actually cares."

Special Ed vs Specialer Ed

Last Friday my friend/teacher partner Erika and I were strapped for lesson plans so decided we were gunna give our ragamuffins what they really want: an intermural-special-ed-dodgeball-throwdown. Erika and I both teach Separate Day Classes with special ed students, but in very different capacities. While Erika's students are struggling to remember the letter A, mine are screaming,"I'll fuck you in the ass!"

The most important distinction here is that Erika's students are in Special Ed primarily because they have a Specific Learning Disability or have been labeled "Mentally Retarded." My little hellraisers' disabilities, on the other hand, are due to "emotional disturbance." Students in my class very rarely have any cognitive deficits. They are just filled with rage.

So obviously pitting these two groups against one another in dodgeball was the most logical thing to do.

We penned the band of outsiders in a fenced in area, split the court in a half with purple chalk and let them at it. In a matter of minutes Erika's students had all been hit roughly ten times and at least three of my students were on a time-out from throwing above the neck and attempting to insight a riot. Ms. A's kids huddled at the back of the fence dancing and singing around generally ignoring the balls whipping past their faces, while my precious babes loomed over the purple line with blood dripping from their mouths screaming countless taunts, teases, and degradations of the soul. It was quite a sight to behold.

I, being a charitable and slightly vengeful person myself, joined Erika's motley crew and cross-haired all my favorite students- Jesse Owens, Hip-Hop, Spider-Monkey, Bo-jangles, Ziona Get-It-Straight, Cornbread and Ms. Fierce, beaning them all with a Ms. Baer ball to the knee caps. Suckas! Of course they showed me absolutely no mercy and I ended up running off the court with my tail between my legs and my arms cradling my head, screaming "STOPPPPP!!!"

In any case. If you are ever bored and have two special ed classes at your disposal, I encourage you to go to your neighborhood dollar store, purchase 8 rubber balls and head out to the nearest blacktop. It will be the best 8 dollars you ever spend.

Hands-On Learning

This week I went to the SFMOMA with one of my favorite students. She's a third grader and the definition of precocious. It was her first time going to any museum EVER even though she had seen them on TV and stuff. For the sake of confidentiality- let's call her Ziona- her self-proclaimed alter ego.
I am going to break down our adventure into top 5 incidents:

Incident #1: On the way to the moma is a park called Yerba Buena gardens. It's really beautiful and has all sorts of water features. Ziona is in pure heaven. She's a total water baby, and is pulling out all her change to make wishes for Martin Luther King and I am going to assume, her father, who passed away 4 years ago. In defiance of all logic and celebration of all possibility- every wish she makes is about the resurrection of her father. I watch her tenderly and make a similar wish of my own.

Incident #2: We are still at Yerba Buena and Ziona is obsessed with the water. Sitting there serenely she sweeps the water with the tips of her fingers:
Z: This feels like Barack Obama's Handshake.
M: What do you mean?
Z: Cold.
M: How do you know Barack Obama's handshake is cold?
Z: No answer.

Incident #3: We get into the museum and it's like shooting a gun to commence a race. Ziona is OFF! and I am forced to walk way more briskly than my usual museum stroll. I catch up to her just in time to see that the first thing she does at the sight of art is go right up to that sucker and put her whole hand on it. Smack.
M: Oh uh, don't do that.
Z: Why not?
M: Um, cuz you're not supposed to, and.....(she's off again)
By the time I catch up with her she's getting yelled at by a docent because there's a pool table sculpture with very meticulously placed balls atop it and Ziona is reaching over to grab one. My need to explain the rules has passed and Ziona sulks for a mere two seconds, "I don't like that lady," and is Peuwh...off yet again.

Incident #4: There is a video featuring a man dressed in drag slowly moving about a white room and fondling a pearl between two white gloved fingers. After running in and out of the room roughly 13 times Ziona keeps returning to the video, making little comments like, "What is she DOING?" "That's a man." "OHHH a pearl!"
Me: You seem to really like this video.
Z: I just wanna keep watching it because it doesn't make sense.
M: Do you think it has meaning?
Z: No
M: What if it did have meaning? What would it be?
Z: Slow-motion
M: Like being patient?
Z: Yes.

Incident #5: Ziona wants a subway sandwich so we decide to leave. On our way to the car we encounter another water feature, different from the one in Yerba Buena. Within seconds she's got her hands in it.
M: Does this one feel like Barack Obama's handshake?
Z: No.
M: Why not?
Z: Too cold.
M: Oh.

Needless to say we had an excellent time. I don't think I saw any art that day, except of course, the art of being, which Ziona has flawlessly mastered. In the car ride back she asked me if diamonds really do come from Africa and we had a wonderful conversation about questioning leadership. "I love this," I thought and turned up some Justin Timberlake real loud for drive back home.

Friends Tell Friends...

...When they have something in their teeth, or on their face or hanging off their shoe. For years, I have had an overwhelming urge to tell strangers with babies slung all over them that they have something on their shirt, head, back, ankle... Like a piece of schmutz ketchup. I never actually say it. But I always think it. And damn if it doesn't crack me up. EVERY-SINGLE-TIME.