Just thought I'd leave you with my friend, the Silver Fox, whilst I jettison off to Mexico for a week.



do i have to post christmas stuff?

Merry Christmas. Okay, let us move on. 99% of Christmas posts are boring.

Anyway, thanks to everyone on their offers of congratulations on the new job. It is very exciting and I appreciate all the support. I will probably provide more details as they come along, but if you are dying to know which school/district you will be disappointed. Internet safety, friends.

I will say I am teaching 10th grade English, which is my favorite grade ever. So! Hurray!

Onwards and upwards with the arts. Perhaps it is the abundance of really annoying Christmas "Newsletters," (real or imagined*) floating around, or perhaps it is the plethora of family parties with Type A personalities, but I've been thinking about competition lately, and how it manifests itself, and how I specifically react to it.

Here's a Holiday Confession: I will end a friendship if it turns competitive. No exceptions. If it is a relative involved, I will go out of my way to avoid them.

It's not very nice, and I know it.

I think my aversion to competitiveness started in college, at a very specific point. At one point in my life, I found myself in an relatively isolated and academic environment, consisting of people who fought very hard to be included. And believe me friends, we competed for everything. Not just grades (which is at least sort of understandable in a school environment,) but family backgrounds (whose family was most likely to buy them a house upon marriage,) weight, and even significant others. Heaven forbid someone find themselves in a relationship, because your significant others were most assuredly included in the competition. Business Major? Good. Pre-Law? Excellent. Pre-Med? Better. In actual medical school? I think we have a winner.

I'm embarrassed to say it was easy to get caught up in the competition. It wasn't until I had removed myself from the particular environment that I realized that my facebook status shouldn't try and prove a point. (Namely, "I'm more successful than you.")

I also distanced myself from a lot of the people from that situation. Even though a lot of the people had many excellent qualities, I just started to realize that competition is the black hole of friendship. It sucks out all the funny, caring, loyal aspects of a person, and a friendship, and leaves all the insecurities. It sucks. (Bawhahahaha. Pun.)

But like always, I started to feel guilty, and in a fit of Christmas spirit, recently tried to rekindle a friendship that had been good in many ways, but mostly based in competition.

Said friend immediately engaged in my least favorite form of interpersonal combat: the "I am deliberately trying to care less about our shared history. I care LESS than you do. I WIN."

Game over, friend.

How do you deal with competition?


ps: I know, NOT CHRISTMASY. I understand if the rest of you are so filled with Christmas that this post flies right under the radar.


a christmas miracle

Somebody got a teaching job! With her very own students to torment, classroom with walls on which to hang vaguely liberal quotations, and........health insurance.

And since that somebody is me, I'm pretty excited. And terrified.


"Oh, I would never swim in a pond!

They're infamous for serpents!"

Do you want to be my very best e-friend forever and ever, or take or our e-friend relationship into the real life zone? Or just intensify our real life friendship? Identify that quote!***

And if you think my constant "name that quote" games are lame, then none of the above apply to you, and um, go read another mormon child bride blog. They usually have more pictures, anyways.


Since I finished my long-term fake teaching gig (let us not discuss it, it renders me gloomy,) I have been spending lots of time subbing at a local Junior High. I've been working for two teachers, who share the same bunch students due to some cross-curricular grouping thing. This is nice, since I work with the same kids everyday, and most behavior issues go away after the students start to recognize you as a regular authority* figure, not just some passing ship in the night. (Yeah, I know, that phrase is usually reserved for one-night-stands. I'm Mormon. I don't get to have one- night- stands. I get to substitute teach.)

But this also means that I start to get attached to the little buggers, and start thinking up fun lessons that I would do if I were their teacher, and wishing that I was, and then I realize that I'm kinda like the crazy Spinster Aunts of the world who think they have a romantic relationship with the mailman because they see him everyday. Except I want a job, not (another) man, and students, not a relationship.**


* I feel weird using the term "authority figure" when talking about teaching, because I'm aware it has negative connotations (authoritarian parenting/teaching, versus authoritative parenting/teaching etc.) So know that I mean authority figure in a "I am responsible for your safe learning environment" kind of way, and not in the "I'm big and you're small, I'm right and you're wrong," kind of way.

**I'm in no way trying to make a broad statement that all single people are spinsters, or that all spinsters are crazy, and so on and so forth, I'm simply making a vaguely Dickens-esque analogy for your reading enjoyment. Put down the torches, merry villagers.

***Don't cheat! My heart will feel your dishonesty, and feel pained.



I just really hate the word "Shoppe." Unless you work at the renaissance fair, can we all make a pact never to use that word?



a possibly offensive thought, on crafting.

Really intense Christian bloggers, (i.e. the type who believe in having children until God stops sending them/wear dresses down to their ankles/ believe firmly in bible-study as a homeschooling subject,) usually have the very best sewing/ crafting tutorials.

So um, thanks guys, and also Jesus.


my dad wants to make this into a t-shirt...

mom: "I love President Monson, and I love Elder Eyring, but most of all I LOVE Elder Uchtdorf."

For Christmas, she would like an Uchtdorf calendar. You know, with photos of Uchtdorf performing everyday tasks, like burning eggs, making toast, and, according to my mother "being inappropriately attractive for a religious figure."

My mother will probably make me take this post down before she is ex-communicated, but I thought you should know.


people are freaks

-The man who stood behind me in line at Costco, and kept scooting closer and closer to me. And then I would scoot, and he would FOLLOW me. BACK THE FREAK OFF, OLD DUDE.

-There are a lot of things that bug me, (keep reading, I'll prove it,) but one thing that really bothers me this type of person: A combo of Debbie Downer, Negative Nancy, and Contrary Cathy, this person ALWAYS disagrees with you, and usually because their own personal experience is different than yours. With these people, you can never state an opinion without getting a resounding YOU ARE WRONG TO THINK THAT WAY, BECAUSE THAT PARTICULAR THING NEVER HAPPENED TO ME, AND IF IT ISN'T MY EXPERIENCE, IT ISN'T VALID. EVER.

Sigh. I seem to encounter these people a lot, which befuddles me, because why would someone want to be my "friend," comment on my blog, or interact with me at all if their sole purpose is to tell me how very, very, wrong I am.

Part of it may be my fault, because I tend to enable these freaks a little. I usually try to defuse the situation by offering a polite "good point," but that only seems to encourage them. I think from now on I will offer the less polite, but more effective, "shut up."

Anyway, that was immensely therapeutic. Let's go back to the awkward now.

-Every time I go to the gym, I see two guys I went to high school with. Not only did I attend school with them, but they were in my little circle of friends, and I'm fairly certain I went to a dance with one of them. We see each other every time, but so far, none of us has overcome the social anxiety required to take off our headphones and say hello. We just cast furtive glances as they lift weights, and I pound away on the elliptical.

In this case, all of us are the freaks.

- Grown women who still talk like babies. Don't ever say "din din." Ever.

Who are the freaks in your life?