A Kid Named Jared

I'm about to go to a graduation party for Jared, and Quincy is trying to drum up some friend business to go to the park with us, and he just told his friend on the phone that the party is for "A kid named Jared" That seemed to undersell Jared quite a bit, so let me tell you a bit more about this amazing kid.

I first fell in love with his brain, from a strictly teacher-student perspective. He was anonymous to me, on my forum, and I kept waiting for his next post to see what witty and totally cerebral thing he'd post next. Once I found out his identity, i went to search him out on purpose in another classroom. Then I fell in love with his eyes. So deep and brooding and searching.

Now, I love his total persona. He is responsible, articulate, perceptive, and like I said, overall amazing. He will see this yearbook through to the end, of that I am sure. Plus, he will force me to learn those damn pesky programs.

I'm going to go celebrate his recent rite of passage now.

Elvis

Elvis is a big part of my life. Every Sunday, he croons his gospel tunes in my living room as I read the Sunday paper and drink my coffee. He also appears at other times, when my husband spins his videos on youtube.com or plays his vast MP3 collection.

He is always there. In a spiritual way, he has been a part of my life forever because my mom was also a huge fanatic.

So, indirectly Elvis has been a part of the very fabric of my existence. . .a part of my subconscious and conscious. . .

. . .so I guess it's fitting that we might actually get off our duffs and head to Graceland this summer. That is if gas prices don't soar.

Help Me Rhonda

Well, no phone call on Friday. I have heard different things over the past week which have made me feel like I'm riding a roller coaster with no end. . .

I suppose I will hear early next week. So for the long weekend, I must just sit tight and enjoy the endless graduation parties.

WTF?

Sit tight? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I'm bipolar OCD? HUH?

I can't make any future plans with any heart behind them until I hear. I can't seem to think about much else until I hear. I have to control my brain until I hear.

Until I hear, schmear.

Oh well, as we say in the educational business, it's almost summer.

ONE MORE WEEK

I got a courtesy phone call today informing me of two things:

1. it will be another week before any decisions are made.
2. they are tying the job in with a coaching position.

When reading between these lines, I can only conclude two things:

1. I won't be getting the job.
2. I won't be getting the job.

So, therefore, i will now focus on being where I am for another year. What do I need to do to survive? Jason has put up a sign-up sheet for a class for future editors, and several were at deadline night last night. I can attend this class and learn along with them. I can be optimistic. I can talk to the English teachers and get names of kids who could step in and write and do computer stuff.

Plus, I have Jared all summer. He's my ace in the hole, or whatever the fuck that phrase is.

I must do what that boy said before, "Learn."

Clear my head, get off some of the brain drugs, try to strike this balance called life.

The Waiting

Is the hardest part. Sing it like Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

I hate how my obsessive/compulsive brain works. It's in overdrive now. . .as it was last week, BEFORE the interview. I'm thinking I rambled incessantly during the interview, and didn't maintain very good eye contact, and might have been too energetic. . .crap.

Why do I beat myself up like this? I'll be fine if I don't get the job, but I find myself desperately wanting it now. I don't want to feel inadequate any more, to feel like an unfrozen caveman, unfamiliar with your technological ways.

Crud biscuits.

Two weeks from Tuesday

That's when I'll know something. Two fucking whole weeks.

Sorry about all the f-bombs. . .but I warned you in the title of this blog that it wasn't for the faint of heart. . .

Uff-Duh

My dear, departed grandmother Kunze always used to say Uff-Duh when she was frustrated. I say fuck when I'm frustrated.

FUCK, FUck, fuck.

I'm obsessing about this decision, and it might all be out of my control. Considering I'm a certifiable control freak, that's fucking scary. It means my brain is working overtime: weighing all the options, picturing all the kids who would be pissed at me. . .but being totally relived that I wouldn't have to learn much more about Adobe Creative Suite CS2. I know enough to start up a newspaper at the alternative school, which I also happen to have experience doing.

Pros and cons. Yes and No. Grey areas, and maybes. Uff-Duh FUCK.

Should I stay or should I go now?

Let's just say it was an understatement when I said May was my month in last week's blog. I now have a new job opportunity that is exciting, and I am in a win/win situation because I love my current job also.

So, should I stay or go? That will be the question over the next week. Sorry I can't give more details, but in time, I will.

I can't do my job, end of statement. I know the hardware in my room, but the software escapes me. I have built a strong program for someone else to step into. But then again, why leave? Lots of kids will be upset, fer sure.

If you read this, just don't tell my boss, yet, please!