Haven’t Had a Dream in a Long Time

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Badass, Colorado, Deep Blue Something, Elvis Costello, Friends, Josh Ritter, mom, New School Year, Paris, Summer Vacation, teaching, The Kinks, The Smiths, Wilco

I just realized that I began this blog on Friday the 13th, in April of 2012. More than 5 years ago. In the past 10 months, I, my friends, have discovered Spotify. So no longer is my iTunes the place where I search my music. Because iTunes is out of date. How I will reconcile this on my blog, 6 Songs a Day, I am not sure. But it’s here, and I am embracing it. Plus, I don’t think I have purchased a new song on iTunes in about 3 years. Spoify is my new Oyster, Here we go, 6 Songs a Day. It’s a new year.

So is this school year. We are more than a full week in, and my last post painted things a bit desperate. It didn’t come even remotely close to reality. We FINALLY, after a lot of work on our part, received a new principal. And in the “transition”, I lost my department position, was forced to move rooms at he last minute, and my schedule for this new year was jacked. But, honestly, I wouldn’t change it. I am overwhelmed by my true happiness. And at work, I have not been able to say this for 4 years. So here’s to great starts and new school years!

News on me–I celebrated turning 40 multiple times, despite D-Day being mid-September. But I spent a weekend in Colorado on a dude ranch with my sorority sisters, for all of our 40ths, and while I might have not been in my pique condition, I got there. Followed by the most amazing 12 days in France with my amazing mom. Trip. Of. A. Lifetime. My summer ended with a week camping trip with family, a big reunion, a few goodbyes from SF, and a lot of time soaking up sun, being able to read whatever I want, and not giving a damn about my job. For once in what–24 years of having a job? It was worth it. I did. Nothing.

What I learned: That my mom and I have the relationship I always hoped for. I just needed to let her in. That 5 nephews, 1 niece, 1 god-daughter, and 1 niece-once-removed are hilarious, and that I still, despite objections, will always be the biggest badass of an Auntie Mo on the planet. That my colleagues were successful in what we wanted, asked for it. and gracefully moved forward. That Willie Nelson still is a God. That pink wine is crucial in summer. That weight gain sucks, but exercise, even if it doesn’t cause immediate results, feels good. That time to write a novel is, in fact, available. That shit, my life is Badass.

When I went to Colorado, I brought the gift of copper bracelets stamped with the word Badass. I forgot this year what being a Badass felt like. And it took all the days of my summer to find this feeling, to bring this mantra back again.

Sorry friends. I am back. I have less than a month to said D-Day, and I intend to embrace it. My kids, who are not strangers to me as a resource teacher, pretended they didn’t miss me, but each told me how happy they are to work with me again this year, their final year. Yes, many came back taller than me, and I, at 5’9, am no slouch. But I am grateful that they like my new room, think 8th grade is awesome, and still stomach me 🙂 God, kids are great. If they only knew what we went to fight for them…But they never will. That’s not my way.

As a September baby, the first day of school typically was after Labor Day, a week before my birthday, and I usually received a new set of clothes, backpack and lunchbox. These were replicated by me for the first 16 years of my teaching career. This year, I shifted. I didn’t buy much of anything, with the exception of 2 new pairs of pants. I think this was for 2 reasons: I am so grateful for the changes in my new administration, that because it is all so fresh and new, why replace the trivial things? Also, shit. I am so broke from France, what’s a girl to do? French orange leather loafers, or a new lunchbox? Shoes, please.

So away we go. New songs. New administration. New year. New playlist. New decade for me. New outlook on life, even in those dark moments when I might not be as optimistic as I hope. Dude. It’s gonna be a great year. A Badass year.

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Here Comes a New Day–The Kinks

Please, Please, Me, Let Me Get What What I Want–The Smiths

Breakfast at Tiffany’s–Deep Blue Something

Josh Ritter–Showboat

You and I–Wilco

Allison–Elvis Costello

 

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And a Struggle Never Wins

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100 days, administration, bully, feminist, Jackson Browne, Merle Haggard, middle school, power struggle, special education, Stevie Wonder, teaching, The Grateful Dead, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, tug of war, women's march

I woke up early this morning thinking about Tug of War. Yes, the game with two teams of people, sometimes person against person, where the objective is to pull the rope from a ribboned center to a team’s specific side. Then you win.

Tug of War is interesting. Perhaps you sign up for it on Field Day, or it’s the way to award a winner, like arm wrestling. Fairly barbaric and out of date, I presume. I’ve seen it in movies done on a muddy field, which with deep consideration, feels pretty dirty. No pun intended.

Now, I am one to always take on a challenge–any challenge–and meet it face on. I’m not

We’re Grabbing at the Fray for Something

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Aimee Mann, Better off Dead, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, children, Election 2016, Hamilton, Hangover, Hillary, Jim Croce, john cusack, Mat Kearney, Paul Simon, Phish, Sam Cooke, school, Teachers, The Samples, The Shins, Trump

You may remember the John Cusack movie, “Better off Dead” from the 80s. There’s a particularly hilarious scene where the main character, Lane, suffers heartache after his girlfriend breaks up with him for someone else, and his radio mocks him. Love song after love song destroys him, and he finally rips the radio out of the car and chucks it into the street. This was Wednesday morning for me.

I woke up needing music more than anything. This year, in general, has been more difficult than easy. With a post-election hangover (and a real one thanks to too much wine), I was bleary eyed, praying that the coffee I made would be strong enough. As I entered the freeway, with more traffic than expected for a city that stayed up to the wee-hours to watch election coverage, song after song pained my heart. Like Lane, I felt as if the radio DJs were digging deep into the chasm of deep female loss. And I took it personally, as someone who voted for Hillary.

It was all too much for me. I cried most of the drive. I think the different DJs on XM Radio were making their own silent protests supporting Hillary, and asking what the hell happened. When Blondie came on, I heard her mantra of “The tide is high, but I’m holding on”.  This resonated with me, so I took it to work.

My first class, a 7th grade social studies class, was subdued. A few kids wore American pride garb, sporting stars and stripes, as well as signs that read “I Wish I was Canadian”,

Take the Easy Way and Give In

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Anne Frank, Carol King, fearless, guns n roses, lyle lovett, Morrissey, REM, spiders, waylon jennings, Willie Nelson, wonder woman

There is a spider living in my living room. In the 9 years I have lived in my aparentment, there has only been one other spider. It was when a friend subletted the place while I was in Vermont. She had stuff from storage. The spider got in. It wasn’t a Daddy Long Legs, but it also wasn’t a Brown Recluse. It was probably your average, everyday spider. No larger than a dime. It was in my shower on a Saturday morning years ago. When I pulled back the shower curtain, there it was. I was not clothed. Things got ugly. After nearly hyperventilating, I grabbed anything I could find to not provide a show for the neighbors, struggled to the kitchen, and found Clorox. I burned that bitch.

I hate spiders.

My mom was here a few weeks ago, and I asked her to kill this newly residing spider. She never really saw it in its glory. She went in with a wad of tissue, and…missed. It retreated. She stuffed the tissue in the window jamb, puffing herself up to the fact that “it’s a goner.”

That was 3 weeks ago. The damned thing is back. And it’s spun an enormous web over my entire living room window. It was there when I got home tonight as the rain came down.

Open Your Big Eyes, Take in the Sunrise

When I was a little girl, maybe 6…7, we would have Sunday night dinner at my Gram’s house. We would drive home at the end of the night, 2/5 of the car asleep, and we would suddenly fall above something I used to call Fairyland. Not sure if my parents or I coined the term, but it was at the top of the hill, where all the lights of Almaden would shine, and it was Fairyland. It was my favorite thing. I was reminded of it when I landed at SFO last week: Magic.

You see, lately, I feel very small. Not like I’m minuscule, or powerless, but as I’m always reminded, I’m just a piece in the puzzle we call life–a contributor.

I had several ups and downs this summer, from moments of helplessness, to feelings of being on top of the world. And I’m so happy to have experienced them both, along with the nuances in between.

It makes me human.

I’ve been thinking a lot about being human lately. Feeling very small. Friends have had babies, friends have dealt with loss. I was on a boat in the Chicago River in July with my mom, looking up at the great American Skyscraper, and I felt tiny. I was pulled inside the circus tent I bought my 2 year-old Goddaughter last week, and once again felt like a child. This summer, I experienced water balloons with 5-year-olds, a car break-in, and weeping like a child at the news that one of my students was finally in remission. I felt very small.

But not in a bad way.

When I was 22, wet behind the ears, fresh from college, I set out one morning to Clement street, a few blocks from where I lived, following rumors that I would run into Robin Williams, a “neighbor”. I was selling books back to Green Apple, one of the finest independent bookstores, which have always been close to my heart.