Saturday, May 26, 2007
Another egg against the wall
This Thursday I chaperoned at V's school field trip with my father. Initially we were to take two separate groups, but more parents arrived then pre-planned, so I was double-teamed with my father. In our group we had five boys and three girls, one of which was V. The boys were all rambunctious ne'er-do-wells, very 'gangsta-licious', who were harder to track down then the girls, who were good at remaining within the group. One of the boys had a girlfriend he was always sneaking off to (We're talking 6th grade here, just so you know), another (dubbed 'Big Tony' by my dad) wore a very red t-shirt that is apparently against the rules of the school. Gang colors and all. He very well knew not to wear it, according to V's inside information Tony has been in trouble many a-time for wearing it or one like it to school. He was told by his teacher not to take off his black jacket, asked me to keep an eye on that--which ended up being the single most aggravating job of the entire trip.
You can't exactly smack the kids upside the head, you know? There are rules against that sort of behavior. Sometimes I wonder why.
The school--along with what must have been two or three others--went to visit the downtown San Jose Tech museum, home of the domed I-Max. It was a very interesting, albeit very crowded, place of science and technology. Personally I was having a blast checking out all the nifty exibits, but the kids were less then enthusiastic. Aside from Big Tony and the girlfriend boy, the three others were alway taking off from our group to hang out with friends from other groups, strictly against orders, as well as just wandering off in particular. We wasted what must have been an hour out of the three we were roaming the museum proper simply searching for our little lost boys.
Then there was V, who clung to either my side or dads side, and did not take much interest in what was going on. She was more into criticizing her schoolmates and telling me (probably dad, too, but I don't know) how very annoying and useless they all were. Isabella, the only Asian-American in our group (surprising considering that's about 44% of our population), was a very quiet, very shy girl. She was sweet, though, and because of that I actually let her go and hang out with friends from other groups. Isabella always came back when I called, see. Isabella also was very interested in the science aspect of our fieldtrip. While we (the group) were making our way to another side of the third-floor exhibit, she flat-out stopped at a laboratory experiment being set up on a table by one of the Tech employees. If it had been anything besides learning I would have roped her into going along with the rest of the group, but Isabella's eyes lit up. I could see it. That little girl was very, very interested in the experiments. In fact, the only words I could get out of her were about science, biology, experimentation.
Ends up the table set-up was an experiment involving the making of insulin by straining bacteria and another substance in test tubes. The boys ended up drinking their end experiment sometime during the I-Max performance, but Isabella tucked hers carefully away.
The I-Max movie was on ancient Greece and it was narrated by the woman from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It was an inspiring film; I especially loved the computer-generated rendition of the Parthenon with the gold and ivory sculpture of Athena. When I saw it, I cried. I couldn't help it. It was a very moving show in total, I cried several times throughout. Had to keep it mostly hidden from the kidlets, though... it seems like any human emotion around a child is forbidden these days.
Above everything that happened that day—the good and the bad—There was one event, one girl, who was in our group that out shined the entire day. In fact, she has been the premise of several philosophical, psychological debates between my father and I. Now, to be fare, by father and I do the philosophical and psychological in-depth conversations on a daily basis. But she hit our radar and hit it hard. Her name was Jenn.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
My first day of school.
Today was haphazard. I did not wake up at my designated time of 7:45 (in preparation for tomorrows 6:00), instead it was somewhere near 11:30. Whoops. Fortunately the extra few hours proved good for all that back and shoulder pain I've been feeling recently. Loosing weight has been hard on me, I think. This is not the intentional weight loss, folks, just my encounter with the world of finances. I couldn't eat as much as I used to, and I walk everywhere now. Consequently with less blubber to shield my muscles and bones, they seem to have more aches and pains then before.
I finally plugged this computer into the Internet yesterday. It's been approximately 35 hours so far, and I've accomplished a good deal of what I needed. Created accounts for the websites I needed; ebay, craig's list, deviantart, paypal, my bank, etc. I researched cornsnakes, downloaded my common programs, signed up on my haunts (this included), all of which took up a good amount of time considering I use dial-up now. Yes... the days of broadband are temporarily over. It's that whole... money thing.
This blog is dedicated to my past as well as my present life. I'm hoping to create something of a common occurrence; to write a little something about my day, and then a little something about a memory or conversation or some such from my young life. I hope I'll go in order, but I'm likely to skip around depending on what's on my mind, and what the day has brought up.
I just figured I have had a pretty interesting life, and that writing it down would be good for me. And hey, it may be good for you too. Who knows?
The title of this blog; letters from the stars; is a reference to my being told to have always had my head up there, amongst the stars, fantasizing heavier then most. I've been criticized for it and, in retrospect, as a new observer of the world I can see why. This is a very realistic place, cold and hard and unforgiving in many places. I can liken the world to many things, but the first that I thought of is the weather. You have your harsh and unforgiving, the absolute pandemonium, the times of peace, excitement, and everything in between. This world truly is marvelous.
I have lived a life in two worlds, it seems. This world, this real world, and the world that my young mind and my parents shaped for me. Just as a warning; I was and continue to be a very confused individual. I do not find this a hindrance so much just yet, but it is starting to get on my nerves.
--------------------------
From 2-5th grade I was in a completely different school (district) each year. Each year I had to find new friends. My birthday is on September 2, the same day as my father, which coincides directly with the first day of school.
When I was in fourth grade, I started to wonder if I would ever have friends at my birthday parties again. That was the first year I moved to Missouri, after a month of summer, missing terribly my life in California. I missed the familiar streets, my friends, but most of all I had a simple, child-like need to see my father again. I missed him so much.
The nights before I started at Foxdale elementary I cried myself to sleep. At one point my mother crossed by my open door and realized that I was in tears. She came into my room and sat down on my bed, trying to soothe me and ask what was wrong. I told her, "I miss dad."
Of course she gave me the well-rehearsed reasons why we had to move. Don't you love your new bedroom? See, you get it all to yourself. And you finally have a yard to play with. Hey--why don't we get a dog? Would you like a dog, sweetie?
I didn't want a dog, I wanted my daddy back.
And so with this terrible hurt inside, a terribly large hurt for a young thing, I started my first day of school. Friendless and always too shy for my own good, it took me a few days to start talking to Ericka. Ericka was African-American and, being that we lived in Northern Missouri, had been outcast by most of the other little groups of children. It was my first real encounter with racism.
Ericka was really cool. She had a mom that looked like a movie star--I was convinced she was Jasmine (Vivica A. Fox) from Independence Day for a while--and a father that cooked a large dinner every night. She had a younger brother and (even though I cringe at this) as I recall her room was dedicated with Hanson posters--a prime factor for our friendship.
I don't remember much of our friendship, to be honest, and I'm sad about that. I know that I enjoyed her company, but it was when mom met Jim and we moved that I fell out of touch with her.
When we moved (southwards, apprx. 40 miles), I went to the summer Foxdale program for a while. I still saw Ericka there, and there was plenty to do. The program there had a lot more to offer academically and sports-wise (I was very into sports at this point, especially basketball and soccer) then any offered in Belton, my new town. Mom took me there before and after work even though it was 10-15 miles out of her way. Then, one day, I forgot my swimsuit.
This isn't such a big deal, right? Wrong.
Mom flips, turns the car around on the highway, and screams at me about my forgetfulness and the "waste of time" for the next ten minutes. Terrified, I simply cling to my seat and stay quiet. I never went back to the summer program and I never saw my friend again. I had other friends at that point, though their faces and names blur, but as young as we were... we did not keep in touch.
I was on my own for another year.
Luckily Belton only had separate elementary schools, so I kept a lot of my friends from there. In fact, those were my longest friendships. To this day I'm still friends with Matthew (some 8.5 years and counting).
The first day of school was always anticipatory for me, even now. If I go to a class I stress a little and fuss a little more then I feel is average simply because I want to make an impression, because I don't want to be the lonely girl in the corner. I remember that it was hard to make new friends and have to say good-bye after every single year, four years in a row. It was during the divorce and custody proceedings of my mother and father. It was one of the most hectic periods of my life. I suppose the first day of school simply reminds me how vulnerable I am to impressions and quick judgment, to being singled out as "odd".
-----------------------------
Vous offrir au revoir et bonne nuit,
-Lady Teigra-
I finally plugged this computer into the Internet yesterday. It's been approximately 35 hours so far, and I've accomplished a good deal of what I needed. Created accounts for the websites I needed; ebay, craig's list, deviantart, paypal, my bank, etc. I researched cornsnakes, downloaded my common programs, signed up on my haunts (this included), all of which took up a good amount of time considering I use dial-up now. Yes... the days of broadband are temporarily over. It's that whole... money thing.
This blog is dedicated to my past as well as my present life. I'm hoping to create something of a common occurrence; to write a little something about my day, and then a little something about a memory or conversation or some such from my young life. I hope I'll go in order, but I'm likely to skip around depending on what's on my mind, and what the day has brought up.
I just figured I have had a pretty interesting life, and that writing it down would be good for me. And hey, it may be good for you too. Who knows?
The title of this blog; letters from the stars; is a reference to my being told to have always had my head up there, amongst the stars, fantasizing heavier then most. I've been criticized for it and, in retrospect, as a new observer of the world I can see why. This is a very realistic place, cold and hard and unforgiving in many places. I can liken the world to many things, but the first that I thought of is the weather. You have your harsh and unforgiving, the absolute pandemonium, the times of peace, excitement, and everything in between. This world truly is marvelous.
I have lived a life in two worlds, it seems. This world, this real world, and the world that my young mind and my parents shaped for me. Just as a warning; I was and continue to be a very confused individual. I do not find this a hindrance so much just yet, but it is starting to get on my nerves.
--------------------------
From 2-5th grade I was in a completely different school (district) each year. Each year I had to find new friends. My birthday is on September 2, the same day as my father, which coincides directly with the first day of school.
When I was in fourth grade, I started to wonder if I would ever have friends at my birthday parties again. That was the first year I moved to Missouri, after a month of summer, missing terribly my life in California. I missed the familiar streets, my friends, but most of all I had a simple, child-like need to see my father again. I missed him so much.
The nights before I started at Foxdale elementary I cried myself to sleep. At one point my mother crossed by my open door and realized that I was in tears. She came into my room and sat down on my bed, trying to soothe me and ask what was wrong. I told her, "I miss dad."
Of course she gave me the well-rehearsed reasons why we had to move. Don't you love your new bedroom? See, you get it all to yourself. And you finally have a yard to play with. Hey--why don't we get a dog? Would you like a dog, sweetie?
I didn't want a dog, I wanted my daddy back.
And so with this terrible hurt inside, a terribly large hurt for a young thing, I started my first day of school. Friendless and always too shy for my own good, it took me a few days to start talking to Ericka. Ericka was African-American and, being that we lived in Northern Missouri, had been outcast by most of the other little groups of children. It was my first real encounter with racism.
Ericka was really cool. She had a mom that looked like a movie star--I was convinced she was Jasmine (Vivica A. Fox) from Independence Day for a while--and a father that cooked a large dinner every night. She had a younger brother and (even though I cringe at this) as I recall her room was dedicated with Hanson posters--a prime factor for our friendship.
I don't remember much of our friendship, to be honest, and I'm sad about that. I know that I enjoyed her company, but it was when mom met Jim and we moved that I fell out of touch with her.
When we moved (southwards, apprx. 40 miles), I went to the summer Foxdale program for a while. I still saw Ericka there, and there was plenty to do. The program there had a lot more to offer academically and sports-wise (I was very into sports at this point, especially basketball and soccer) then any offered in Belton, my new town. Mom took me there before and after work even though it was 10-15 miles out of her way. Then, one day, I forgot my swimsuit.
This isn't such a big deal, right? Wrong.
Mom flips, turns the car around on the highway, and screams at me about my forgetfulness and the "waste of time" for the next ten minutes. Terrified, I simply cling to my seat and stay quiet. I never went back to the summer program and I never saw my friend again. I had other friends at that point, though their faces and names blur, but as young as we were... we did not keep in touch.
I was on my own for another year.
Luckily Belton only had separate elementary schools, so I kept a lot of my friends from there. In fact, those were my longest friendships. To this day I'm still friends with Matthew (some 8.5 years and counting).
The first day of school was always anticipatory for me, even now. If I go to a class I stress a little and fuss a little more then I feel is average simply because I want to make an impression, because I don't want to be the lonely girl in the corner. I remember that it was hard to make new friends and have to say good-bye after every single year, four years in a row. It was during the divorce and custody proceedings of my mother and father. It was one of the most hectic periods of my life. I suppose the first day of school simply reminds me how vulnerable I am to impressions and quick judgment, to being singled out as "odd".
-----------------------------
Vous offrir au revoir et bonne nuit,
-Lady Teigra-
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