Death Becomes Her

I was watching September today, one of Woody Allen's more somber films. True to form it featured Dianne Wiest, and while watching I couldn't help but remark inwardly on how well she looked. I looked at the channel guide and noticed that the film was made in 1987. "1987 wasn't so long ago," I thought. Then I remembered that my little brother, who drives and has already graduated high school, who is bigger, stronger, and taller than me, who's almost 20, was born in 1987. 1987 was 20 years ago, jesus. I wondered what I'd look like in 20 years. Would I still be thin? Would my face be a roadway of lines and saggy depots? Would I even still be alive? I have these thoughts often and they don't amount to much. It's not like I resolve myself to drastically changing the course of my life after these little reveries, and that's sort of pathetic and pusillanimous.

See, I have this philosophy that life is short and you don't get another. That's pretty basic and prosaic, but I really, really believe that. I don't have faith in a God or gods who will take care of me and offer me rebirth; I don't believe in a heaven or hell or purgatory. When you die, you're dead--that's it. I'm an agnostic, would-be atheist; however, I have a friend who believes that branding oneself an atheist is too arrogant. It is like, she says, pretending to know all there is about the universe. I disagree, of course. It just means you're sure and refuse to be wishy-washy about your beliefs. Anyway, yeah. Knowing that I'll be dead soon, I should be doing a lot more than refusing to leave the house and refusing to speak to people and refusing to answer the phone, and other insular practices, but I just don't feel like it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not depressed. I just feel that maybe I should be out there shaking it up; you know, catching venereal diseases, racing stock cars and having abortions. Oh well.

I'm so sad; I miss my children, especially 5th period. I knew I would be a little put out at the prospect of suddenly up and leaving the first group of children I've taught taught (double taught intended), but who knew I'd get home and become a blubbering mess. I was fine during the actual act of leaving. We laughed, we lived, we loved. My children whined and gave me hugs, made me promise to come back and visit. Amy (my cooperating teacher) and I ate Thai from our favorite restaurant for the last time and drove to Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream (to be extra gluttonous); I was completely and totally fine. Then I take the walk from the school library (the English department's home) to the Harrison doors for the last time. I cross the street from the school for the last time and all of a sudden I'm completely rapt with this paroxysm of emotion. I was supposed to go out for food and drink with my ex-coworkers, but I was way too sad, so now I'm at home. I miss my children. I've never hugged so many people in one day ever, not even at family reunions. Student teaching is cruel business.

At least Pride & Prejudice is on. Though it's the inferiorly shitty version with Keira Knightly ruining the role of Elizabeth Bennet, it's enough to distract me for the time being. On Monday, though, I'll have nowhere to go and will feel completely useless as I'm now both unemployed and idle. Anyway, this MacFadyen guy makes the second crappiest Mr. Darcy I've seen, the first being that suspiciously fey Mr. Darcy from the 1940's production. (The women were decked out in historically inaccurate garb and the acting was too over the top, absolutely intolerable.) His acting is so wooden and he delivers his lines as if he's only just been able to memorize them. And that haircut! It's hideous. It's the early 18th century version of the shag. And the pacing of the film is all wrong. Yeah, this version is so not deserving of four stars or accolades, but people have bad taste. Nothing, in my opinion, will ever trump the magnificently accurate and gorgeous 1995 BBC miniseries. Long live Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth.

I'm still sad, though.

Well Damn

Have you noticed that I'm getting lazy? Just what is this post your random internet quiz results shit anyway? This description is inaccurate as hell by the way. I do find it funny, though.

My score on The Brutally Honest Personality Test:


Loser- INTP
(13% Extraversion, 73% Intuition, 66% Thinking, 33% Judging)

Talked to another human being lately? I'm serious. You value knowledge above ALL else. You love new ideas, and become very excited over abstractions and theories. The fact that nobody else cares still hasn't become apparent to you...

Nerd's a great word to describe you, and I seriously couldn't care less about the different definitions of the word and why you're actually more of a geek than a nerd. Don't pretend you weren't thinking that. You want every single miniscule fact and theory to be presented correctly.

Critical? Sarcastic? Cynical? Pessimistic? Just a few words to describe you when you're at your very best...*cough* Sorry, I mean worst. Picking up the dudes or dudettes isn't something you find easy, but don't worry too much about it. You can blame it on your personality type now.

On top of all this, you're shy. Nice one, wench. No wonder you're on OKCupid! Now, quickly go and delete everything about "theoretical questions" from your profile page. As long as nobody tries to start a conversation with you, just MAYBE you'll now have a chance of picking up a date. But don't get your hopes up.

I am interested though. If a tree fell over in a forest, would it really make a sound?

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If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, &check out this.

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Tomorrow's my last day with my babies. We'll see if I can hold it together. If not feel free to mock me mercilessly.

In other news, specifically of the "Dude! You're fat. I hear a heart attack coming" variety, I've finally bitten the bullet; I mail ordered food. For those of you with not enough butter, fat or sugary pastries in your life, try Tennessee T-Cakes; they're pretty good. Oh, gotta go. The Office is on.

I'm Cuntry

ick, it sorta looks like i'm deliberately making an allusion to the word cunt; i'm not. not much today. it's cold as a witch's tit (i never really got that saying) and i'm happy as hell to be in the snugly comfort of my room.

i took this "What American Accent Do You Have?" quiz. i was found to have a country accent (surprise, surprise). when i was eight or so, i was videotaped (no kiddie porn-o) at Marshall Field's for this child safety initiative thingy. i suppose hella kids were being snatched at the time. the reasoning was that you could show the police a videotape of your kidnapped child so they could really get a "feel" for the little runt's personality. anyway. so i find this tape when i'm a second year undergraduate and my accent was HELLA THICK! dude! the word doll took me six seconds to say (die-yawhlllllllllll and shit). i was quite surprised that i was never aware of my accent, though people rarely are, and i wondered where it had gone. both my mom and dad still have southern leanings to their speech (as many, if not most, black folks on the south side do), but the bulk of their accent is gone. i suppose mine changed as a result of being around siddity bitches in grammar school. however, i recently viewed a videotape that i made of myself teaching 5th period (required for my program) and i still have an accent, just not as thick. it's funny.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The South   That's a Southern accent you've got there. You may love it, you may hate it, you may swear you don't have it, but whatever the case, we can hear it.
The Midland
The Inland North
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The West
North Central
Boston
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

on a slightly related note, my mom is adorable. she is so full of christmas cheer and spirit, and these feelings aren't discriminating; she loves any day that allows her to decorate the yard with large, frightful creatures that are supposed to be inviting and friendly. a few weeks ago, when i was home for thanksgiving, i helped her decorate the christmas tree. the tree ended up being gorgeous (as usual), and she actually wanted to decorate another just so i could have one for my house. she actually expected me to transport a six-foot decorated christmas tree from the manor all the way to north side...sheer craziness. i, of course, declined because i'm the quintessential scrooge figure in her bob cratchit world. by now, i'm sure she has the requisite singing wreath on the door, the jazz santa on the christmas faux fireplace, and the dozens of bows, bells and fluff on all the doors, archways and walls of the rest of the house. my mom's so cute.



isn't it precious?



the christmas kitchen table

Emotional

Dude, I got emotional today. For those who know me, there is an understanding that this is rare (or was before the devil in form of BC took over my hormone regulation). Anyway, I was sitting in 4th period today (I really do owe them an apology. Despite being oppositional and kinda dry, they did the best of all the classes on the mythology unit--yay them!) and I got misty, almost tearful--tearsty. I thought, "I'm really gonna miss these little scamps."

You see, I have less than two weeks left to my student teaching placement. Next Friday is my last day. After then, I may never see these kids again. So I surveyed the room from behind the desk (I'm no longer teaching, just observing, grading papers, and butting in every once and again) and I thought about how different the experience of being in the room with these kids now feels different from being with them on the very first day. Once, we were all strangers; they were these nameless faces with overactive bodies attached who heightened my anxiety and induced my fear of failure. Now, today, around 11:05 a.m., I looked around the room and saw faces that I know, that have personalities and attitudes and individual memories of interaction attached to them. I had, with these kids, done something that I rarely ever do; I had put myself completely at their mercy. I had placed myself in precarious and unforeseeable situations in front of them, had attempted and failed with them watching. I rarely do anything outside of my comfort zone. My motto is to only open my mouth or act when I'm darn sure of the outcome or reaction. I like to act in complete surety to avoid any danger of embarrassment or ineptitude. However, for 15 weeks or so, I had abandoned these things, and they--my students--had been there to witness every fuck up and success. Dude, I don't abandon myself in that way around my family or friends, even. This shit was hella special and shit (I'm hard, dammit!).

So yeah, I got emotional. Perhaps, it's simply the Desogen--which, by the way, sucks ass--but I feel, despite my anxiety of soon being both unemployed and idle, a sense of accomplishment. This was one of those infrequent experiences that forces folks to stop being so prosaic. I now have less of an issue with figuratively falling completely on my ass in front of people. That's pretty emancipating, bitches!