8:43 p.m. - 2013-04-22
Basically, the little bugger decided to hide underneath the counters that run around the perimeter of the classroom. He pulled a cupboard door wide open so that it covered the space he was stuffed into and shoved a stool beside him as well so that I wouldn't see him.
At first, I thought he just left the class without permission - but that's not his style. This kid from hell doesn't know the meaning of subtle - every move he makes screams "pay attention to me!" So I knew he was hiding somewhere and it took very little time to place him.
Only rather than call him out and tell him to get back into his seat - I just stood in front of the cupboard door and trapped him.
And stayed there.
It was perfect - I went on with the lesson as if nothing was amiss and all he could do was wait, quietly and cramped in his little hobby-hole, until I hopefully moved. Which I didn't. For a good 15 minutes.
And bliss! There were no distractions, no chatting, no destroying anything while my back was turned. And all I had to do was stand there.
The absolute best part, though, came when a defeated voice behind me softly said,
"I'd like to get out now."
"Why, so and so, there you are! You should have said something earlier, I would have moved!"
The rest of the class and I laughed and laughed...it was quite the victory.
Unfortunately, the incident did nothing to quell his normal shit-disturbing behavior which continued on for the rest of the lesson. So I've written to senior management saying I want him out of the class. Again. This is only the third time I've asked...let's hope it's true what they say about charms.
9:40 p.m. - 2013-04-09
Yet, as I sit in front of my laptop with a good 30 minutes of free time to do a little net surfing, I can't think of a bloody thing I want to look up.
Weboggle, it is, I suppose. Sigh.
9:50 p.m. - 2013-04-08
#1 - I'm going to get a really bad rep in my school pretty soon if I'm not careful. By an unfortunate turn of fate, I have inherited by father's formidable flatulence and it has been rearing its ugly head with a vengeance lately. Particularly when I've been giving students crap one on one (pun intended). So far, there have only been a couple of cocky comments from student which I have successfully ignore but I fear a really shitty nickname (pun intended) is going to be thrust upon me if I don't nip this in the bud.
I have purchased some probiotic acidophilus in the hopes that this will regulate my system. If not, I may have to get used to "Miss Smellis."
#2 - I really hope that there comes a time in my career when I'm not working until 9 or 10 every night and I actually get to enjoy my evenings once in a while. I get that having lots of vacation is a bonus but, hell's bells, I deserve it with the amount of time I put in in between!
I suppose it's partly my own fault for being a slight perfectionist. If I didn't care as much, I wouldn't worry about giving good lessons all the time and I'd just do whatever was in the handbooks. Damn me and my integrity!
#3 - Not work related. I have started on a jogging regime that has got me totally psyched! I am already envisioning myself running 5k charity events and getting kitted out in black and neon green spandex. I only hope that I can keep this up - lord knows that stick-to-it-tiveness is not my strong suit.
9:55 p.m. - 2013-04-04
So much for being a forum for enlightened thought - it is as elitist as a Beverly Hills golf club. I'll take the talks for free online and leave the hobnobbing to the intellectually minded suckers who have far too much money on their hands. If they're that desperate to throw it away, I've got lots of suggestions...
9:05 p.m. - 2013-04-03
In the meantime, why don't we start again?
I had one of those days today that really makes me question whether or not I have the female equivalent of balls to do this job. English cover for a group of year 10 boys who were not put together for their exceptional skills so much as their exception to rules and appropriate behaviour. Seriously, by the middle of the period, I was completely in the shits with these boys and they knew. By the time the HOD arrived to sort things out, the whole thing had gone to pot. It was a true shit-show of a lesson.
The rest of my afternoon just went down hill from there - I was completely disorganised for the year 7's and the year 9's managed to walk all over me as well (it really doesn't pay to argue with a teenage - you try to explain that they are using a fallacy and they just giggle!)
There was one moment that makes me think that maybe I'm not completely useless. During my free, a young girl was crying in the study area waiting for the student support lady to finish what she was doing. At first, I let her wait, but I just hate the sight of a crying student so I asked her if she needed anything and we went into the prep room to chat.
She told me what was the matter and I listened attentively. I'll be honest - I had very little to say that could be deemed "wisdom" other than the very trite "It will get better." Seriously, she would have been better off watching an after school special than listening to me. But, it occurred to me that, when I was her age and I felt like she did, one of the worst things was feeling like none of the teachers - the people who were supposed to be looking out for us - cared. It made the school seem that much lonelier and completely hopeless. So I hope, if nothing else, I taught this girl one important thing - that there is a teacher who cares.
2:52 a.m. - 2006-08-06
Whenever someone hears this, their inevitable reaction is to uplift me with some tale of an ugly/fat/bad personality "friend" of theirs who never thought it would happen to them but is happily getting married next month/last year/eventually. Now, let's put aside the warm fuzzies I get from being likened to the lowest common denominator of humankind, I'm fed up with everyone's assumption that it will "just happen" when I'm least expecting it.
Why is this true? What fundamental law of science or philosophy or attraction says that every person will meet and match up with their soul mate? Life is not a movie, True Love as experienced by characters played by Meg Ryan and Hugh Grant just doesn't happen. There are plenty of people out there for which it just hasn't happened and probably won't ever happen. There are old hags with lots of cats and 60 year old bachelors who chase after young girls in this world. These are the "friends" that no one ever mentions because they blow big bullet wholes in the "someone for everyone" theory. But I see these people. I know they exist.
And one day I will be one of them.
I may not have loads of cats or chase after 20 year old tail, but something not too distant from that scenario is out there in the ether for me.
My belief in this theory is rooted in the psychological muck that is my psyche. I'm a fucked up individual, people, with too many issues about relationships/friendships/sex/trust/etc. to ever really be able to bond with someone. I know I need to seek professional help, an endeavour that I'm going to undertake very soon, but until then, trust me when I say...
I AM going to single for the rest of my life.
Bring on the cats.
12:49 a.m. - 2006-08-04
I would have to say that I'm definitely a functioning alcoholic. I don't let the booze affect my working life (as long as you don't count the occasional hangover and general fatigue...then it's a different story). Personally, I like to describe it as borderline alcoholism. It sounds more manageable that way (she types while polishing off the night's bottle of chardonnay).
A few years back, I went to a psychologist for a couple of sessions. My dad set it up for me, because he thought that my major problem in life was that I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grow up. Little did he realize the depthes of my psychological chaos.
The woman I saw was a psyghiatrist who also specialized in career counselling. I think, anyway, it was a while ago. In any event, I went and chatted with this woman twice. I wasn't entirely comfortable and we discussed various things, I don't remember a lot, because I didn't find it particularly helpful. I do remember two things quite distinctly, however. One being that her diagnosis of my problem was that I simply didn't have a direction in life, but I was, for all intense purposes, a fairly well adjusted person. It was this observation of hers that made me cancel my next appointment...if she couldn't see how fucked in the head I really was, then I what hope did she have of helping me?
The second thing she observed was that I was a fairly anxious person, and that I tended to use alcohol to calm my nerves (oddly enough, despite my apparent "good mental health", she mentioned that she could prescribe me something to take the edge off. Yay drugs!).
It's funny, I never really thought of myself as Anxious, per se, until she pointed it out to me. The thing is, she was right on the money. I am an anxious person...I worry a lot, I'm always expecting the worst of people, situations, etc. and consequently preparing to defend myself against attack. I'm not so good at relaxing or letting go. I am defintely an anxious person.
And I do tend to get drunk to alleviate that anxiousness. I've just drank most of a bottle of wine and, I have to say, I'm feeling pretty good. Sometimes, drunkeness leads to depression, but most of the time, it sets my mind free. I have epiphanies, sort things out, enjoy whatever I'm doing a little bit more. My inhabitions definitely fly out the window when I've had a few, which isn't always a good thing, but it does allow me to have conversations with people that aren't about the weather. Driking takes my worry away...and that's why I find it hard to go a night without it, whether I'm alone or not.
It gets a little scary at times...I've blacked out a few nights, and I've certainly gotten myself into situations that probably weren't exactly healthy. I've gone days without being sober when I go to bed. I worry sometimes that my liver is going to start protesting wildly. It's not necessarily a good situation.
But it's not exaclty a horrible one, either. Like I said, I'm functioning, I get by. I'm not running myself into the poor house (in fact, the frequency with which I drink alone is probably saving my hundreds in bar tabs). I'm still able to maintain relationships (no boyfriends, though, but we can discuss the status and lack of my love life another time). My biggest health concern is being tired all the time, but I've always been a tired sort of person. It's my reaction to unpleasant situations in life, which I have a lot of.
At the end of the day, my alcoholism is probably real, but it's not something that anyone else is going to recognize. There will be no interventions for me. I need to take responsibility for my life, I need to get help. And I will.
Unfortunately, I'm also a chronic procrastinator, so it's not likely to happen any time soon.
1:00 a.m. - 2006-08-03
So many thoughts and opinions. So little time. The problem with wine is that it makes me epiphanous. I don't know that epiphanous is actually a word, but if it isn't, it should be. Because that's what I am. With wine, anyway.
I used to keep journals when I was younger. But it always ended up being the same old tired, depressing crap every day. In 100 years, I would be ashamed for someone to come across them and think that it was an indication of teen angst at the time. I even wrote poetry. I shudder to think of it now...
But, when I've got an audience, I've got shit to say. And, if I can toot my own horn for a moment, it's not always half bad. I've been clicking on the "random entry" button on my website, and I don't think I suck at this whole writing thing. I'm no shakespeare or even Dave Barry, but I manage to get my thoughts out there in a slightly entertaining manner.
I'm better when I'm drunk, though, and that I know. Not blind, silly, falling down drunk, but that kind of drunk you get when you've had just enough to drink and the mind flows. Kind of like the Optimal Pool Playing Drunk.
You know what I mean. I like to play pool, and I'm certainly no girly-girl when it comes down to it, but I'm not exaclty a shark, either. The best pool playing I ever do are in two situations. The first being at my folks' place, because their table is pretty pristine. The second is when I've had enough to drink that I don't really care if I sink the ball, but not enough to make my coordination a moot point.
It's like that.
Unfortunately, one side effect of drunkeness is sleepiness. And, being the old fart of 27 that I am, it tends to creep up on my sooner than I expect.
Good night. =)
12:35 a.m. - 2006-08-03
I've already spent about three hours today adding movies to my "ziplist" so I can assure you it's been a productive day. Well, sort of...I only managed to find 32 movies in that time that I want to rent. What can I say, I'm picky.
I will say, I am very excited to start recieving movies in the mail. The best part of it is that it solves a curious problem I've been experiencing lately with Blockbuster.
It's the oddest phenomenom, but every time I go to my local blockbuster, within about 15 minutes of browsing the favorites section, I inevitably have to take a dump.
Every time, no exception.
The other day, I was about to leave for the BB when I decided that it might be a thought to try my luck on the loo before I go.
Nothing. Not even an inkling.
But sure enough, 10 minutes into looking at the drama section, I need to poo like you wouldn't believe.
My brother had the same problem with Canadian Tire. Maybe it runs in the family.
In any event, searching online will certainly make my life easier. Blockbuster doesn't have public washrooms, so I have, on more than one occasion while looking for my three favorites for $8.99, made my final selection of film a hasty one just to get home that much sooner.
4:05 p.m. - 2006-08-01
A week ago, I went into my local blockbuster and was informed by the cashier that in the past two months, I had rented 18 movies. Let's not dwell on what this implies about my social life, shall we? Let's just say that I don't have cable, and I like watching something when I get home from work, so I tend to rent a lot of movies.
Thing is, whenever I plan on spending an evening han solo, I usually bring along a bottle of wine for the ride. Maybe a few bottles of beer from time to time, but I prefer the bubbly. It makes me feel more sophisticated. Anyhoo...the problem I experience is thus: am I enjoying the movie I'm watching because it's good, or because the wine is good?
I'm not so sure.
Take "Boondock Saints". I liked this movie. When it was done, I had a whole warm fuzzy feeling that I get when I see a movie that I thought interesting. However, as I usually do, when the film is done (and my wine is not) I tend to look up info about the movie online. This particular movie has quite the history, particularly when it comes to the director, who was, from what I understand, a talentless, egotistical hack.
I thought about what I had read about the movie and it's director, and some of it rang true. Upon closer reflecting, there were certain aspects of the movie that didn't quite gel. It was fairly amaturish, not so much in the production value as in the realization, but still. I really liked the story, but, at the end of the day, had it been executed to a worhty degree?
The problem that I am contending with at the moment is...did I like because I was drunk, or did I like it because it was different.
I really don't know.
I suppose the only way to determine this is to watch it again sober and make an enlightened opinion.
Which then leads me to a completely different can of worms. But I'll discuss that later. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you.
4:54 p.m. - 2006-02-24
Day by day, I am becoming more and more convinced that there is some sort of talent agency out there that supplies bad actors to low-budget commercials. They must specialize because, considering the mind-boggling amount of talentless losers that you see on tv today, the demand for such a commodity must be astronomical.
I understand that these poor, unknowing souls aren't exactly given pulitzer prize winning dialogue to work with. I mean, it's hard to breathe life into "It's Patrick. He got life insurance" without sounding a little wooden. But, come on, I'm afraid the lack of a strong script just can't explain away the utter....what's the word I'm looking for....SHIT acting that makes the airwaves these days.
It honestly makes me shudder.
10:52 p.m. - 2006-02-20
I recieved my marks for three quizzes that I completed for this ($*!$!!!) calculus course I'm trying desparately to finish. Each one is worth 10% of my final mark. I'm going to tell you now that those babies put a whopping 29.5% towards the whole shebang.
I so rock.
Which is good because, as is usually the case, this shit is getting harder by the minute and my confidence is waning. However, having done very well so far, and with a pretty good feeling about my midterm exam, I figure I only need to barely pass the final to get an overall decent mark.
(This is assuming I do well on the last quiz and the "project" I've been assigned. Both of which I'm not too concerned about. The quiz doesn't look too bad and the project's a joke. When I asked my tutor about it, he suggested I get my material out of the book and, I quote, "change them by say, adding 7." Now there's a real evaluation of my mathmetical prowess, don't you think?)
So, thanks to having a non-life for the month of February, and the under-achieving attitude of Athabasca U's teaching assistants, I think I'm gonna do pretty well overall.
That and I'm smart.
9:45 p.m. - 2006-02-12
Yeah, that sounds about right.
To begin with, status update: I've moved back to Canada. Currenly staying with my parents but I can't even begin to explain how temporary that situation is. I love them, they're great, but I have tasted freedom and I liked it. Unfortunately, I have two hurdles to leap before my housing situation changes. One: must finish calculus course. Remeber about a year ago when I innocently said that I was taking a maths course by correspondence? Well, 11 months, two weeks later and I'm still at it. Problem is I only have until the end of February to finish it and I hadn't completed quite as much during the first 11 months as I had planned.
Ever try to cram 5 months worth of limits, derivatives and intregals into your brain in the space of four weeks? It's not recommended.
I have done virtually nothing but math for the past two weeks and the forecast isn't looking to change anytime soon. My life is, to say the least, not very exciting at the moment.
Hurdle two: money. I'm basically broke and have no job. `Nuf said.
On a brighter note, I'm in the process of trying to quit smoking. Two weeks and going strong. The patch is helping me not be a total horror to be around and the kitchen is stocked with munchie foods. So, to recap - stopped smoking, eating lots AND sitting on my ass all day doing math. I wonder if there's an equation that could compare the exponential growth of my waistline with respect to the deterioration of my sanity? You would think I'd know...
And that's the long and short of it for the time being. I suspect I'll write again within the next three months.
But don't hold your breath.