Let's bludgeon the phrase "You got this!"

I hate the phrase "You got this!"

I hate the exclamation point on the end of the phrase.

I hate the toxic positivity that this phrase expresses. (Everytime I see it, I imagine the person saying it with bulging eyes, a weird grin, and maybe holding pom-poms and waving them like a lunatic.)

I hate that people use this phrase all willy-nilly, whether someone is starting a new job, wallpapering their bedroom, making a recipe they've never tried before, or getting ready to undergo chemotherapy for a life-threatening cancer. 

It is back-to-school time so I'm seeing "You got this!" all over the place, and it's driving me insane. 

Yes, yes, I realize the intention when people use this phrase is to offer support, but it is just a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad phrase (to borrow from a writer who recognized and used a great phrase when she thought of it). 

Here is the thing:

You don't know whether the person you're saying "You got this!" to actually has "got this." 

Maybe they are a freaking hot mess of unmitigated garbage as they prepare for their job or chemo or wallpapering extravaganza. I know from watching a parent go through chemo that there is no "I've got this" going on in their heads. Cancer has got them, although the hope is that that isn't a permanent condition. "You got this!" sounds insincere and trite. 

Starting a new job is terrifying, and to be told "You got this!" may make the person feel like they "should" feel confident, which makes them feel even more scared and nervous. 

Moving into a dorm and starting college is, likewise, scary as hell. "You got this!" presumes that everything will be fine, but maybe everything won't be fine. Maybe the kid will hate dorm life and their roommates, hate their professors, and change their major 17 times before finally dropping out to do something that actually fulfills them. 

To me, blasting "You got this!" as a comment on every new thing that someone is dealing with is careless and downright unkind. 

And it's also really lazy.

"You got this!" to the person who is getting a new job instead of saying "It is so nerve-racking to start a new position, but I know you are smart and a hard worker, and any job would be lucky to have you."

"You got this!" to the person who is wallpapering their bedroom instead of saying, "Man, I did that once and glued my legs together, but I think you are probably a better direction follower than I am. Good luck!"

"You got this!" to the person starting chemo instead of saying, "I really hate that you are having to deal with this, and I am sending you hugs and wishes for comfort and peace."

So I would like to bludgeon that stupid phrase to death, bury it under a rock, and forget about it forevermore. 

Reasons why I don't ever want to become a vampire

I recently finished John Polidori's The Vampyre and am now on to a different kind of vampire tale, but even if I wasn't, I've long believed that being a vampire would be the worst fate imaginable. 

It's not the blood or the taking of life. Those aren't my issues with vampirehood.

The problem is the fucking monotony and the absolute ennui that would ensue after living for hundreds and hundreds or, dear god, thousands of years.

Humans keep humaning in their pathetic and/or atrocious ways.

Like their insistence on measuring girls' clothing lengths. Word on the street is that N's former high school was checking girls shorts today, and this news has put me in the foulest of foul moods. 

(Because didn't we just go through this in the before times which weren't that long ago?)

Unless I'm seeing a penis, testicles, nipples, a vulva, gluteal cleft or extensive mammary action, I don't care what a person wears, and I cannot wrap my head around why seeing shoulders and thighs is such a problem for so many people. 

But guess what being a vampire would mean? 

I WOULD NEVER ESCAPE THE BULLSHIT THAT IS DRESS CODES FOR WOMEN AND GIRLS.

I would never escape buses dropping my kid off on the wrong side of a 5-lane parkway again.

I would never escape having to call and find out if this can be remedied.

I would never escape being interrupted by texts or by my children who don't see me busily working at my desk in what used to be the living room. 

I would never escape hormonal mood swings that may cause me hurt someone (or them to hurt me) before menopause is here. 

I would never escape the depression that is shopping at Walmart. 

I would never escape doing work that doesn't actually get utilized in a purposeful way.

I would never escape litter that tracks itself all over the house and is especially irritating in summer when I have bare feet.

I would never escape the hellscape that we're managing to turn the Earth into. 

Despite how funny Laszlo, Nandor, and Colin Robinson make it seem, being a vampire and having my life extended only to witness humanity effing things up sounds unbearable. 

I'm the teacher with the complaints

I have been at the cottage school for a decade, and sometimes I'm surprised that they've kept me around as long as they have since I am the one whose classes parents seem to have the most issues with. 

My high school classes, really.

And it's the texts I select for students to read.

I love teaching the classics but I have tried to add a little bit more modern classics to my list over the years because classic literature can be really hard for students to get, especially those who don't have the weird love of English that I do. 

For a lot of students, Wuthering Heights (1847), Great Expectations (1860),  Pride and Prejudice (1813), and anything Shakespeare is utter torture. 

So this year I am teaching Rebecca by Daphe Du Maurier (1938). Several years ago, I started teaching   The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien (1990), A Raisin in the Sun (1959), and Long Day's Journey Into Night (1939-1941). 

Because I can potentially teach the same student all four years of high school, I have to rotate books so as not to repeat. After a several years hiatus, I am teaching The Things They Carried again. 

This is a book about the Vietnam War. About young men (in their 20s) in the Vietnam War. Young men, in general, think about sex. And war is about killing and death and raping and destroying and dying. All unpleasant topics. 

(It is at this point that I like to mention that all of these things--sex, rape, war, killing, dying--are also in the Bible. Like 2 Samuel 13:1-39.)

Some parents homeschool because their kids have food allergies or because their kids are involved in activities that require more flexibility than what traditional school gives. Some parents homeschool because their kids have had socially unpleasant traditional school experiences. Some parents homeschool because they want more control over what their kids learn. Probably some homeschoolers are a combination of these. 

It was due to this last group that we determined, a couple years after I began teaching, that we needed to add a disclaimer to my English classes to warn parents that there is often content that they may find troubling and that they should review the books in advance (like before registering for my classes). The ones who complain are generally the ones who fail to do this.

While I personally think it is ridiculous to censor what kids read, especially once they reach high school, parents have the right to do whatever they want including marking out things from books or keeping certain books from their kids. However, they would save themselves a lot of headache (and me too) if they would check out the books in advance. Or if they are so concerned, read the books with their kids and have whatever discussions they feel compelled to have. That is entirely their business, and we encourage it in our disclaimer. 

The parent who has had the most recent issue with the first book of the year is concerned because I am not explicitly talking about language and sexual content with the students, which he seems to think is my responsibility since I am assigning the book to read. I, on the other hand, think it is my job to assign the book and teach the students the rhetorical devices and complexities of how the book was written (you know, the ENGLISH part of it), and it is the parents' job to discuss any particular issues their children bring to them related to curse words or sexual content if they have concerns about these things. 

If I were to discuss these things, I would be overstepping, which isn't my job, and on this point, the parent and I agree. 

I think the parent's basic argument is that I should have picked a book that this particular parent feels is a better book.

But I picked this book in February and we listed the book choices and the disclaimer in March and this parent apparently enrolled in April and now it is September. Now is not really the time to be complaining that you didn't know what was in the book. 

One of the things I discuss with students while reading The Things They Carry is ethos and pathos, two types of rhetorical devices. Ethos is what gives something credibility; why can we trust an argument that someone makes? Pathos is the emotional language someone uses in an argument that makes the reader feel a certain thing and, therefore, reinforces the argument. 

Tim O'Brien, the author of this Pulitzer Prize-finalist story, served in Vietnam so he has lots of credibility as to what the Vietnam War was like (and this is what the entire book is about). He also writes stories and uses a great deal of pathos to help the reader feel what soldiers felt. 

One thing I explained to this parent is that my job is to prepare high schoolers for college English classes. And I don't know where my students will go to college. Some of them go to private college or Christian colleges, but some of them go to state schools. 

I went to a private Catholic college where I know some of my former students now attend, and I read books that had curse words and sex in them. I actually took a THEOLOGY course in college in which the books we were assigned had cursing and sex in them. 

My point is that keeping a high schooler away from things in the real world (like cursing and sex) doesn't prepare them for when they will be introduced to these things (and they will if they leave the house or if they currently have a cell phone and the Internet). 

I completely understand the desire to protect one's children. I completely understand the parent's argument that kids can't unsee or unthink the things they read. But I think it is better and safer to let them experience the world through books when they can discuss with parents how to address these things that confuse or scare them. Better this that to keep them so protected they have zero reference point and no concept of how to handle it when they do have to handle it in real life. 

Because they will. 

A teacher drama that has lasted all year

I think the vast majority of teachers do great work--they are dedicated and committed and possibly even a little bit crazy to put so much of themselves into their profession. 

(I say this as someone who, 18 years after leaving the classroom full-time, has not gotten to a point where I feel I can dedicate myself to it in any way, shape, or form the way I did before my children entered my life). 

And perhaps, like so many teachers, this particular teacher who is driving me nuts has just had a fucked up last two years, and his motivation has tanked. Who could blame him?

But for the sake of argument, let's assume I have a case for really not thinking this teacher knows what's up. 

The first time I emailed this teacher was on August 25 when both boys had him for related arts. This was approximately 10 days after school began and both boys had a slew of zeroes. 

I'm like, "How can they possibly be fucking up this badly this soon?

So I emailed the teacher to see what was going on. 

He replied that he had just entered asignments into IC. Unfortunately, he entered in zeroes for everything instead of just entering assignments (which you can totally do; you don't have to put a score at all to hold places for assignments. The kids' other teachers do it all the time without entering any score). 

The second time I emailed this teacher was in late September when M got COVID. 

M got a 25/50 on an assignment. Here is what I emailed the teacher:

I saw that M got a 25/50 on a resume assignment. Since he has COVID and had to quarantine 4 days last week (and won't be back until October 4), I wanted to ask what he misunderstood about the assignment. I looked at the instructions on Google Classroom and didn't see where it said he needed to do two resumes. 

The teacher said he had reviewed the requirements in class and that he could go over it again with M when he returned.

I had issues with this because 

1. M had missed 4 days of school that week and was going to be out for another week (at least) due to being positive for COVID. I didn't know what day the teacher went over this in class; if it was Tuesday-Friday, M wasn't there. Also, by the time M got back to school, this assignment was going to feel like ancient history.

2. The teacher said, ""I wrote a list out of requirements and told students to write something in each category, " but the teacher didn't post this on Google Classroom (or even take a picture of what he wrote on the board). This was early in the year when every kid was missing days for quarantining/contract tracing. I couldn't help but think that not only was M missing stuff; so was every kid who was out. 

October was quiet, but I emailed the teacher again in November when M was given a "C" for a final grade. 

My problem wasn't that he got a C; my problem was that his grades were an 83.33 and a 99.07 (for mastery and progression). There was no conceivable way those averaged together would end up as a C. 

When I emailed the teacher and asked him why M got a C, the teacher replied "You're right; M didn't deserve that." 

I didn't like this language. M should get what he earned. The teacher using that phrasing made me wonder if he was just handing out arbitrary grades. (This came after this teacher was suddenly gone from the school and didn't return until like 3 weeks ago. I assume some kind of internal investigation of some kind happened.)

And then G, whose grades were a 100% and a 99.07%, was given a B by this teacher. 

It was at this point that I emailed the counselors and said something along the lines of WTF?

Unfortunately, G was placed in this teacher's class again this grading period, even though he already took this related arts class earlier this year. He didn't like this teacher before because of all the grading stuff (and he just thinks the teacher is a jerk), and having him again is not a good thing.

G took a test in the class and didn't finish it. Because the test was on Google Forms, if you haven't answered all the required questions you can't submit it. G didn't submit it which was stupid, and he has been informed in a gentle way that it was stupid. When I asked G why he didn't tell the teacher that he wasn't finished, he said, "It wouldn't have mattered." 

Did I mention G thinks the teacher is a jerk and is really over being in this class?

(Having spoken with this teacher in person this week, I can attest that he totally threw shade on G. This is the first time ever that a teacher has thrown shade on G. I'm not saying it isn't deserved. What I'm saying is that G may take after his mother and not suffer bullshit without letting someone know that they don't have a lot of patience with it. G isn't an outright dick; he's just not being especially friendly.)

Then G was doing some online assignments and was scoring 50s and 70s on things. He says the teacher told students if they get a green check, they get a 100 percent. The teacher told me something different when I went in for a conference this week. I watched G do two of the modules to see if there is a quiz of some kind and shows them exactly what they scored on it. For these two modules at least, there was NOTHING of the kind. I have no idea why he got a ten points higher on one than the other, nor does he. 

It was already established in November that I couldn't trust this teacher, but I can't trust G because he has a jaded attitude. 

G has gotten "the lecture" that he has to do everything to the absolute best of his ability because if G screws up, the teacher can say it is G's fault. And based on my experience with this teacher this year, I'm not 100 percent sure that it is. 

So much upper middle class complaining

Complaining is the human condition. I, myself, could win an Olympic gold medal in complaining. 

But even when I complain, I am almost always well aware that I have it far, far better than lots of other people. I make an intentional point to remind myself of this as soon as I notice myself complaining. 

I think part of this is because I read widely, and that helps put me in other people's shoes. I also think being a substitute teacher and working with every kind of kid in this city--the riches, the poorest, the smartest, the dumbest, the most motivated and the least--helps keep it real. 

When I complained today to a friend because I had an interview scheduled for a magazine article and the person didn't answer when I called at our scheduled time, I said while complaining, "And I know this is minor because I can clean my bathrooms while I wait for this person to return my call. This is a cushy job I can do from home that pays well." 

Social media is the worst when it comes to complaining, and I admit I'm just as bad as anyone else about using it as my personal venting arena. When I do complain, I try to at least make it funny and acknowledge my own bullshit ridiculousness. 

Like how I hate it when people complain about teachers and act like kids are teachers' problems from 9-3 but then when I have to take my cats to the vet for their shots, I'm all, "THESE FUCKING CATS ARE YA'LLS PROBLEM NOW."

What sticks in my craw is when people, mostly in my neighborhood, use our neighborhood FB page to bitch about the dumbest stuff. While I can see their point, it just gets excessive and makes me think some of these people need to get hobbies.

Like the older gentleman who updates regularly on how late the mail is. One week, I think he posted every day about the mail not coming. This was a couple weeks ago when everyone and their grandma was sick with Omicron. On about day 4, he said he had finally gotten through to someone at the local PO and that our periodicals wouldn't be delivered for awhile.

And my response to this is YOU ARE BITCHING EVERY DAY BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR TIME MAGAZINE????

I mean, I get it. Yes, it is lowercase frustrating. And it would be uppercase frustrating if you are waiting on a Social Security check or medication. But a magazine? 

C'mon, man. 

I went to our HOA meeting on Monday that lasted from 6:30-9:00 (which is bullshit), and lots of people were complaining about their water and sewer bill. 

Our family's most recent bill was $222. This is for two months and covers WATER and SEWER. If I divide this amount by 60 days, it comes to $3.74 per day to have clean water and no raw sewage in our house or yard. Per person that is 75 cents a day.

I AM FUCKING THRILLED TO PAY UNDER $4 A DAY FOR CLEAN WATER AND NO POOP OR URINE IN MY HOUSE, thank you very much. 

For $4 a day, my family is avoiding cholera and dysentery and typhoid and god knows what else. 

That is a freaking bargain in my book. 

And the thing about people in my neighborhood complaining is that some of them spend more than $4 a day on coffee. (Or their Time magazine)

They live in houses that cost upwards of $350,000. 

And they are complaining about spending 75 cents a day for clean running water and no raw sewage. 

I'm reading a book right now about a boy and his brother who spent something like 15 years living in a refugee camp in Kenya because of nonstop war in their home of Somalia. 

And that is all I need to do to thank heavens that I am able to pay under $4 a day for clean running water and no raw sewage. 

Airing of my grievances, 2020 edition

People who walk in the middle of the neighborhood road when there are PERFECTLY good sidewalks. (I just watched a neighbor do this as I typed.)

"Christians" who don't realize that Jesus wasn't white and he probably wouldn't be down with a lot of their "all these poor people have to have skin in the game" bs (when the majority of these poor people work full-time jobs or multiple part-time jobs or are actually disabled and can't work).

Khaki pants with tennis shoes.

Brittle fingernails. 

That dental and vision insurance aren't considered "health" insurance. Why are these two body parts not considered part of the body when it comes to health? 

Those 5 stray dark hairs that grow on my chin at random intervals so I can't pluck all of them at the same time. 

My husband's inability to find anything in the fridge. 

That children's adorable baby breath becomes stinky teenager breath. 

"Christians" who are SO SURE they are going to heaven that they're like, "I'm cool with dying from COVID cause Jesus loves me," which isn't terribly "Do unto others" because not everyone is so freaking sure of the afterlife and maybe aren't in a big hurry to die. 

That eyeglasses don't come with those cool heater things so you can tighten/loosen your own glasses without having to run back to the optometrist.

When book-to-series adaptations add so many weird things it doesn't even feel like the book (I'm looking at you 11.22.63). 

People who don't cover their freaking NOSES with their masks (like the dumbass checkout kid at Walgreen's). 

Anyone on the internet without medical degrees/epidemiology degrees/science degrees acting like they have more knowledge than individuals with these things. 

When certain people in my household forget to put STUFF ON THE GROCERY LIST.

Most every white.person.problem (including this list).

People who drive for miles and miles with their turn signals on. (It pains me to think about this lack of observance.)

My children who, while I love them, talk about all kinds of shit related to video games and YouTube that I neither know nor care anything about. 

People who talk a lot, in general, but especially in the morning before I've had enough quiet time and/or coffee. 

Middle-age body spread and the chicken neck phenomena.

That ovaries don't just shrivel up and fall out the instant you decide you are done having children. Must we continue with this period bullshit for another 20+ years?

COVID and the dumbass federal response to it. (Thank god all these people who said it is NBD and a hoax are getting vaccinated.)

Receding gums

The way earbuds make my ears itch

Podcasts that are just nonstop talking about mostly inside jokes that nobody else gets. 

Skin tags

Shower grout and its utter disgustingness

Country music. (I just can't. I'm sorry.)

People who screech to not be afraid of COVID but who also track all the burglary reports in their areas almost incessantly. (Why is one type of fear stupid but another type of fear is totally normal?)

The fact that I didn't appreciate my body when it was awesome and didn't crack and have to move slowly in the morning. 

People who cannot read.the.room and include me on emails that if they had any CLUE what I'm like would know that I should NOT be part of that email. 

People who are always looking on the bright side or being chipper. Tone that shit down, please. 

People who aren't teachers or school administrators who keep bitching about why the kids aren't at school as if they even have a CLUE as to all the logistics of school during a pandemic. 

Christmas...all of it. Ugh. 

That there aren't "glaring inefficiency" lines in all venues where people who need super quick things could go. Like basically a 15-item check out lane for everything. So when I'm at Walgreen's during a pandemic, which gives me the heebie-jeebies anyway, I don't have to stand in a long 6-foot distanced line behind Wanda who is returning $40 foot warmers or whatever shit she bought. 

(BASICALLY, WHAT I'M TELLING COMPANIES IS HIRE ENOUGH WORKERS AND QUIT TAKING ALL THE MONEY FOR YOUR STOCKS.)

What I'm realizing as I'm writing this is that The Airing of Grievances is much better done with others because there is a certain amount of brainstorming energy that comes from hearing others grievances. It spurs your brain much better than just blogging.
So I shall post my grievances and perhaps add to them on social media when/if others come up with their own brilliant grievances.

Yesterday felt like screaming into the void

Yesterday just felt like a shitshow, but I guess some days are like that...
even in Australia
even during a pandemic quarantine.

It just felt like all the wrongs were happening.
(And even though they were wrongs in my world, I know full-well they were minor wrongs compared to the frustrations that other people are dealing with in the midst of the pandemic.)

The computer (due to the latest update) no longer reads my iPod, which I didn't discover until after I'd done a phone interview for a magazine article and needed to transfer the audio file to the computer.
So that frustration then bled into other frustrations and responsibilities (like G having teletherapy and me trying to get the boys to do some school work), all of which would feel petty and minor under normal circumstances but feel monumental right now.

And then I read Twitter about the president suggesting life go back to normal by Easter, and that just completely set me off in anger.

I felt like I was standing on a precipice, screaming into the void that if the economy is bad now, just imagine what it will be if the health care system completely collapses and if people are dying by the multiple hundreds each day.

Inside my head, I was screaming that only the most inhumane people would say sacrifice the elders. I was screaming about the absurdity of people who claim to value "all life" and then take risks with other people's lives (by not quarantining until they get the official word that they have coronavirus; I'm talking about you, Rand Paul.)

And while I was internally railing, I recognized with greater clarity than I usually have how little control I have over anything.

But I never have control, whether there is a pandemic or not.

The great delusion we tell ourselves is that we can control our lives.
We control our choices, but we don't control the outcomes of our choices.
A person can make all the "right" choices and life still goes in whatever direction it goes.
The person who eats right, exercises, and doesn't smoke, can have a fatal heart attack at age 40.
Certain choices may help propel life in a certain direction, but not necessarily and with no guarantees.

The boys have rediscovered the old Xbox and, because it is older than the hills, it promptly died when they turned it on and tried to use it.
This brought G to tears because he closely associates things with his childhood memories.
If something breaks or I get rid of it, he has always said I'm destroying his "childhood."

His therapist is working with him on understanding that everything changes; we lose everything.
Because OCD is all about wanting to have control over everything; wanting things that don't make sense to make sense.
Sometimes it seems like OCD therapy combined with the principles of Buddhism.

Last night, when I comforted G about his sadness over the Xbox breaking, I told him about Buddhism and impermanence.
Nothing lasts.
Everything changes.
Everything dies or breaks or falls apart.
The memories are not in the Xbox but inside his head and heart.
(I didn't add that one day those will be lost to impermanence when he dies because that is just too, too heavy right now.)

In telling him about this, it served as therapy for me.
A reminder that this moment in time is impermanent.
I am impermanent.
My grasping at control is futile.
I can only make my own choices, which are to quarantine and keep my family safe.
I cannot control anything else.
Craving, grasping and clinging cause me suffering.

Why am I doing this? (I have to ask myself about subbing)

There are times when subbing is pretty great, like last week when I subbed at an elementary school for a teacher I know who asked me to "teach her 2nd graders something about writing." (She says writing is not her strong suit.)

So, I did a lesson on adding descriptive details to sentences to make them more interesting. Students were working on fables at the time. We also practiced punctuation for dialogue, and I moved among them answering questions and helping them edit their work.

There are also times when subbing is soul-crushing, like yesterday when I subbed double-periods for a band teacher who left a note that basically said, "The day will be easy. Show a movie."

While this wasn't the hardest subbing day I've ever had, I also may have allowed kids to get on their phones because my main role was to keep kids alive and from fighting. They don't want to watch a G or PG movie, especially not one of the three I offered them and for which they had to vote. They wanted to sit with their feet propped up (and who doesn't), but there weren't enough chairs in some classes for everyone to do this, so I then had to argue with people over that. (Because middle schoolers are all about what is fair.)

I realize the teacher doesn't have desks in the band room, but there are things called clipboards (and I am happy to buy 50 of them for him), so students can have some work to do in groups that is actually about music education. Even a little bit of work keeps kids occupied and the sub has SOMETHING to hold them accountable to.

I said this much to the AP when I left (nicely, of course).

Am I a difficult person?
Perhaps.
Do I deserve being called a "Karen?"
Possibly.
I have been known to not be able to keep my mouth shut when something is just dumb or wrong or not well considered.


But I became a sub because it galled me to see subs in my kids' classes who were sitting on their phones.
So, here I am, ready to be more than that, and I am sometimes hobbled by the teachers. (Which annoys me, and yet I.SO.GET because planning work for a sub is like another whole stinking job.)

Am I the only person who sees the problem with this?

Prior to the first day of school, I checked the district's bus finder app to determine where my son would catch the bus on the first day (when I made him ride in both the morning and afternoon).
He stood at the stop, the bus came, and then the bus completely blew past him and went to the other side of the neighborhood.
It didn't slow down. It didn't stop. It didn't collect $200.

And my response to myself was, "What the fuck?"
Because the bus finder app shows the only stop for this bus and our address is the intersection closest to our house.

So I called the bus compound, and they radioed the driver who came back to pick up my son.
His response was, "I've been driving this bus for a long time, and I've never picked up here."
My response to him was, "Well, the bus finder app shows this as being the stop so I guess ya'll better figure out your stuff."

G has been dropped off at the correct intersection (per the bus finder app) ever since.
Until the other day, when he was dropped off in front of our house.
Which was weird.
And then today he was dropped off on the other side of the neighborhood (see first day of school story above).

So I checked the bus finder to see if it had changed, and it has not.
Same as before school began.
Same as on the first day of school.

I called the compound and was told by some lady who wasn't especially nice, "Your kid can walk. There's no permanent bus driver."
So I called the compound OVER that compound and said to the nicer lady who actually listened to what my issue was:
1. I know bus drivers have difficult jobs.
2. My son can walk; that is not the problem.
3. The problem is that whether the bus driver has driven a bus for 10 years or 10 minutes, shouldn't the bus driver, whether permanent or temporary, follow the map that PARENTS FOLLOW PER THE DISTRICT BUS FINDER APP?

Because my kid is old enough to walk a block or three home, but what if he was in first grade?
What if he was autistic or had some issue that made it difficult for him to deviate from a routine (and, honestly, OCD is kinda that way).
What if a grandparent was supposed to get him from the bus dropoff but the bus driver drops off on the other side, and the grandparent doesn't know about it.

I know, I know.
I'm too focused on this whole "consistency" thing.
I'm beginning to think that it is I who has the problem.

Oh Jesus. It's dress code bullshit again

N's high school decided to attempt to enforce it's dress code at homecoming dance last night. I say attempted because dress codes are subjective and difficult to consistently enforce. Because I recognize this and had such an impossible task last year when trying to find a dress for my 5'8" daughter to wear that came down to 2 inches above the knee, I saved photos on my computer of girls who were let into last year's dance as evidence (if I ever needed it) of how arbitrary the dress code is.

I had those photos and a sign that said "Down w/ Sexist Dress Codes" when I went up to her school last night after getting calls/texts from my daughter and mom friends who said girls were being measured with RULERS at the dance.

Many were told they could not come in. Many students were milling around the parking lot waiting on their parents to get them when the police told them they were trespassing and had to leave. Many were kids I stood with on the sidewalk and waited for their parents to come since no high school staff waited with the kids. No police waited with them either.

I called my school board member. I emailed the principal. I encouraged the students to politely email the principal. I encourage everyone whose son didn't go into the dance because his date wasn't allowed into the dance to email the principal.

Below is my letter to the principal and the board member. It is followed by the letter my daughter sent her teachers and staff to let them know how it affected her. It is a little heartbreaking, and I don't have much of a heart to begin with.

My Letter

I understand that EHS has the right to establish a dress code. 

However, the problem with dress codes is that they generally affect female students, and they are horribly subjective in nature. An identical dress that comes to 2 inches above the knee on one girl may be 4 inches above the knee for another girl. 

EHS has been completely inconsistent regarding dress codes to dances. I have photos of dresses that were allowed into the homecoming dance in 2018. These dresses were above 2 inches. They look, in terms of length, IDENTICAL to the dresses of girls that were not let into the dance this evening. I am happy to provide these photos to you so you can see just how inconsistent EHS has been. 

I spoke with one young woman tonight who was not allowed in because of cleavage. Her friend, who had similar cleavage, was allowed in. This student provided me a photo as well. 

A young man not wearing a tie was not allowed into tonight's dance. Another young man wearing jeans WAS allowed into the dance. While girls received the bulk of the inconsistency from ESH administration, some young men felt it, as well. 

You may say "we have posted the dress code regularly since time immemorial," and that is the truth. However, having a dress code and consistency enforcing a dress code are two very different things. 

Additionally, I'm not sure EHS staff understands that parents purchase the dresses that are available to purchase in stores. I don't know a single mother who wouldn't love to find the "Hit at the Kneecap" dress shop, but this shop doesn't exist. 

With all due respect, the homecoming dance was a complete shitshow. 

By the time I arrived because my daughter was scared of all the hullabaloo and called me, the police were there and told everyone, including groups of students waiting for their parents to pick them up, that they must get off the property. No EHS staff members came out to supervise the students as far as I could see, therefore another mom and I stood on the front sidewalk on OS Road to ensure the kids got picked up. As far as I'm concerned, this went from a dress code issue and became a safety issue for these students. 

At the very least, there needs to be a community discussion with EHS staff and parents to try to resolve this issue that has angered many, many parents. 

Her Letter

In this email, I have included teachers that I had last year and now have this year, and administrators. Please share this with other teachers who want change about this pressing matter. 

You’re probably aware of the chaos that took place tonight at the homecoming dance, but I would like to tell you about my experience and spread the word. It would mean a lot to me if you read this whole thing and could understand what happened. 

I was so excited to spend time with my friends this year at the homecoming dance. We spent lots of time doing our makeup and hair beforehand and lots of money for our outfits. We were eating dinner when we received texts from friends about the administrators using rulers to measure dresses and being super strict. 

When we arrived at school for the dance, there was a large crowd of people outside the doors in the upper lot. We had heard that they weren’t letting many people in because of the length of their skirts. I was even told that some guys weren’t allowed because they weren’t wearing a tie. I stood outside with my friends for over an hour, waiting to get through the doors. We didn’t even make it inside the building until a long time after the dance started. 

While we were waiting, I witnessed many groups of girls exiting the building, some even crying. They had been told to leave because of their skirt length. The rule was to the knee, but people received an email that stated “dresses must be no more than 2 inches above the knee.” I understand how some people weren’t allowed in, but most girls with respectable and completely appropriate dress lengths were discriminated against. 

I have attached pictures of me and my friends, all in our dresses that me and many other people think are appropriate. I also attached the email that I received. After groups of people had left the building, they were standing in the parking lot waiting for a ride because they were just kicked out. The police had parked a car in front of the sidewalk, (picture attached) and had ordered people to leave the property. I know a group of girls who had stood on the sidewalk somewhere, and my mom drove up to come wait with them until they got picked up safely. (Picture attached.) 

When my friends and I finally made it inside, I did the breathalyzer and stepped up to the ID table. They acknowledged my friend as being a teacher at school’s daughter, and allowed her to proceed without measuring. My other friend asked if we could be measured before showing anything or paying. We were told to just show our IDs and then we’d get measured, so we did. 

I stepped up to the administrator and her immediate reaction was a scowl. She told me that I wasn’t going to cut it. The administrator then told me to pull my dress down to the longest length I could, and measured it from there. She told me that I “barely made it,” and told me I was okay. I turned around and started bawling. At this point I knew I wasn’t staying, but I needed to hear it anyways. Someone hugged me and my group then turned around and left. We were absolutely horrified, and felt embarrassed and violated. We had just been told that covering our bodies was more important than having fun. My friend was not refunded her $10 after we left, and now the sophomore class will not have enough money for our senior activities. This dance was our main source of profit for these activities, and our night was completely ruined. We had been looking forward to this for awhile, and were very let down by our school and the administration. 

After this awful incident, me and many others are asking for change. I know many girls who wasted money and time to dress up for this dance, and a number of guys who were angry and upset because their girlfriends or girls they knew were objectified. This was many people’s first date, first high school dance, or last high school homecoming dance. This whole situation makes me sick to my stomach and even hours after, I still feel nauseous. Everyone is upset, and I am not going to let this go until change is enforced. I hope you can understand, and maybe try to bring more attention to the subject. I am now scared to go to school on Monday because of the consequences that might be awaiting. Thank you for your time, and have a good night. 

Blame it on James

On Saturday, I ordered a dozen cookies from a local bakery.  The cookies were to be of the sugar variety with red icing and black #9s on them (for the 9th birthday boy).

When I went to pick them up yesterday, I was told there was no order for me.
I asked, "Um, is there a James who works here?  Because James took my order."

The gentleman who was helping me scurried around a bit in the back, and then walked toward me and asked, "Was the order for 12 dozen cookies with red icing and black 9s?"

I said it was for a dozen (and we all know 12 is a dozen), but, yes with red and black and 9s.

This man, named Walt, then showed me the order form, which wasn't an order form at all.  James had written my order incorrectly on the back of a receipt.  He had failed to put my name or phone number on it.  No one paid any attention to it on the desk because it wasn't an order form.

I asked, "Can you please thunk James on the head for me?"

The gentleman called two other bakeries in the franchise to see if they could make my cookies by late afternoon.  Fortunately, one of them was able to make my order.

I told this story to D and the kids last night and said if the cookies tasted bad to "blame it on James."

N farted at the table and said, "Blame it on James."

From here on it, if it sucks or doesn't go the way we like, it is all James' fault.

Let's talk about how much I hate dentists

I used to be the type of person who didn't mind going to the dentist.  I'd get them cleaned, it didn't cause discomfort, and so it was no big deal.

For 36 years, I had no issues with dentistry at all.  No cavities at all.

I am this close to my 43rd birthday, which means the last 7 years have been a sheer dental nightmare.  That might be a little hyperbolic, but not much, especially for a person who for nearly 4 decades had NO DENTAL PROBLEMS.

I can't tell you how many cavities I've had filled in the last 7 years.

I had to have a mouthguard made because of teeth-clenching, which I blame completely on having 2 sons.

Last year, my dentist fixed messed with a cavity that wasn't bothering me, wasn't causing me any pain, which caused me to develop an abscess and led to Root Canal #1 and a crown.

Root Canal #1 and a crown led to us getting the "much better dental insurance" this year.

And thank goodness!

This year, the day before my 43rd birthday, in fact, I will be having Root Canal #2 at the endodontist's office.

My dentist, like she did last year, fixed messed with a cavity that wasn't bothering me, wasn't causing me any pain.  And now it is causing me considerable pain. I am taking an antibiotic and tossing back ibuprofen and acetaminophen like candy.

This led to me inform her on Thursday that from now on she is not to fix mess with any cavities of mine until or unless they are causing me pain.  I'd rather just have it get bad and go straight to root canal.  These little dinky fillings are leading to full-blown root canal and crown, which in my untrained, non-dentist mind, is complete bullshit.

Apparently, I have high pulp and with my chronic teeth clenching I'm wearing down the enamel on my teeth, making it likely that I'll have problems with getting fillings.  I saw on an x-ray that I've nearly worn a filling down flat from clenching during the night when I sleep.

So while I don't think my dentist is "making shit up," I also think her insistence on getting these fillings "fixed" early is simply making me having to deal with pain and discomfort a whole hell of a lot sooner and more frequently than I might otherwise have to.

The problem with being an English teacher.....

is that it often makes listening to music so incredibly painful.  I am certainly not perfect with my grammar and language manipulation at all times, but gah.....

Like this lyric:

My head's spinning around I can't see clear no more.

What bothers me the most is that clear isn't clearly.  The double-negative doesn't help.  Needs some punctuation.

And then there is this doozy:

Let me photograph you in this light
In case it is the last time
That we might be exactly like we were before we realized we were sad of getting old.

What the freck?  

World's longest run-on sentence.  I don't care if she makes a gazillion dollars a day, this lyric has "poorly written" all over it.  

But the Grand Poobah of Terrible Lyrics has to go to this Paula Cole song:

So open up your morning light
And say a little prayer for I
You know that if we are to stay alive
Then see the peace in every I

That song was released in 1996, and it STILL plagues me.  

GAH! There shouldn't even BE a 4th place

I like to think God has a sense of humor.  Sometimes I suspect he/she mocks me.

Yesterday, D took N to the awards ceremony for the district's elementary academic competitions.  I had been hoping she wouldn't win.

She placed 4th in fine arts.

There shouldn't even be a 4th place as far as I'm concerned.
(Does that make me an a-hole mom for saying that?)
(I don't care if it does.)

Both D and I made our comments:  "Imagine what place you could have come in if you'd actually prepared and studied for the assessment?"

Her response:  "Well, at least I got 4th."

I hate it when life has the opportunity to teach my child a lesson, and life doesn't listen.

D said she was very surprised to hear her name called, and I think her excitement, which was tempered from last year's 3rd place (and mine and D's certainly were) is an indication that even if you get an award it doesn't feel as good as when you've actually worked hard to achieve that award.

My kid gets on my nerves......until I'm around your kid

I really need to make that blog title into a t-shirt.

Being a parent can make a person pretty myopic.  You are used to what your kid is like, what your kid does.  If you are like me, you tend to imagine that other people's kids are somehow better, nicer, smarter.  They are the 6-Million-Dollar-Man version of children.

I imagine that other people's kids don't drone on and on in an endless earworm-like loop about Skylanders, Minecraft or American Girl this-and-that.  That other people's children are more regular hand-washers or teeth-brushers or vegetable-eaters.

But then I volunteer at my kids' school or I attend a Girl Scout event with my daughter and I see, quite clearly, that there are MORE ANNOYING children on the planet than my own offspring.

Although G talks nonstop about video games from the time his eyes open in the morning until the time he slips into the great and silent unconscious at night, although he has the ability to grate on every.single.nerve throughout my body at the exact same time, I find him far LESS irritating than other first graders in his class.  G has taken over 7 years to aggravate me as much as he does now; some of these kids seal the deal in under 5 minutes.

Give me sulky, moody middle schoolers any day of the week!  This past week when I volunteered, I was surrounded by whiney, needy, can't-keep-their-fingers-to-themselves children.  It brings out my ticks after so long.

Today, N and I went to a GS activity.  Sometimes I look at her and think, "She is so weird."  Not as weird and gawky as I was at a similar age, but weird and gawky in her own right.  But then I saw and had to listen to other girls who didn't have that gawkiness, who had, in my estimation, an over-abundance of self-esteem.  They talked as if everyone cared what they had to say, and they continued talking, completely oblivious to the fact that they were hogging the show and, perhaps, making the other girls who were new to the situation feel like complete morons.

Basically, they acted the way N does when we are at our little troop meetings, when it takes every fiber of my restraint to not knock her upside the head and tell her, "Quit trying to be a show-off.  You look like an ignorant ass!"

After listening to these girls, I was ever so thankful that my kid is gawky and awkward and the type of kid who limits her show-offy-ness to when her mother is troop leader every other week at meetings.

My kids don't have friends over terribly often but I've found that the kids they do hang-out with and have hung-out with generally don't get on my nerves.  But then, those kids are very much like my own kids.

In addition to making me feel less annoyed by my own children, being around other people's annoying children makes me less likely to fall into the "those other kids are awesome" trap to begin with.  When I do meet kids who seem too good to be true, I have to remember that they too have annoying attributes.  There is something they do that I'm just not privy to at the moment that would make my blood boil or make me roll my eyes or suffer various unpleasant responses.

It is nice to stand in my own pasture, recognizing that as much cow sh*t as there is here, there is as much, more or just different smelling stuff in the pastures next door and behind me.  

Yet another......graduation (a discussion of sentiment and semantics)

I have attended my children's preschool and kindergarten graduations.  This spring I will attend N's 5th grade graduation.  I have always been happy to see them sing or read or enjoy the feeling of having met a milestone--a year or two of work and learning.

But I have to balk at today's "graduation:"  N and her fellow 5th grade peers "graduated" from a drug & alcohol education class that lasted 10 weeks and was taught by local police.

Now this is not a criticism of N's school or teachers.  I love them.  Nor is it a criticism of drug & alcohol education programs.  Those are worthwhile.  Nor it is a criticism of police or local government, who sponsor the program.

It is a criticism of holding a graduation for a 10-week-long once-a-week class to which parents were invited and at which students received certificates and small trophies.

It was absurd.

I went to the "graduation" because parents were invited, and I would feel like a complete cad if I hadn't.  But I went grudgingly.  I didn't take my camera.  I didn't buy N a new outfit.  I didn't change out of my jeans.  I didn't buy her flowers (I did see one child who was given flowers).  I complained to at least 2 other parents about how goofy it was to be at this thing.

It wasn't a milestone, nor was it monumental.  I don't think 10 weeks' worth of anything is worth celebrating, especially not with a "graduation."

If they had called it a "completion ceremony," maybe my hackles wouldn't be up.  Maybe my issue is not with the thing as much as with what we call the thing?   There just can't be, nor should there be, so many dang graduations from things.

Of course, I'm peevish about graduations, in general.  I wore my "Liberal Arts Graduate:  Will Think For Food" t-shirt with jeans when I got my bachelor's degree because I was all grungy and angst-ridden about life in general.  I didn't even go through commencement ceremonies for my master's degree because I didn't care about the pomp and circumstance.  I had worked hard and it didn't matter if anyone knew it.  I KNEW it.  I had a paper diploma to prove it.  I didn't need to hear my name called and pay some ridiculous fee.

Even N said tonight, "That music they played was pretty weird, right?"
Smells like sentimentality to me.

Standardized testing pep-talk letter

N will take the state standardized tests at school soon, and parents have been asked to write their child(ren) an encouraging letter, urging them to give their best effort.

I will write the letter, but I am debating what I will write.

I understand why the schools want parents to write these letters.  I get that so much emphasis is placed on these tests, and that the teachers and administrators are often just towing the line....doing what they must to ensure that scores go up, and they don't suffer the penalties of state legislators who don't know what the fuck they are doing.  Legislating things that can't be legislated, like that all children will learn and test the same and have the exact same seed of knowledge in their heads.

The letter request sorta galls me, even though I know that is not the intent.  I know this letter is sent to all the parents, including the ones who don't instill those learning behaviors and skills that I have worked to instill since my children popped out of my uterus.  It makes me sad to think of the kids whose parents won't write them letters.

Here are some of the things I want to say in my letter:

*This test, while meaningful in the context of 4th grade, is meaningless in the grand scheme of your life so don't stress over it.  Ask yourself in all you do "Will this matter in 5 years?"  If it won't, don't freak out about it much.

*Do your best, not just on this test, but in all that you do.  Not because of your school or because of me and Daddy, but because doing your best makes YOU feel good about yourself.

*Grades and test scores don't mean much to me.  They don't always indicate what parents think they indicate.  I would expect you to be proficient and/or distinguished because I know your skill set, but that skill set is not something you can control.  The brain you have is out of your control.  You happen to have really good comprehension skills.  Some kids do not.  Getting a proficient or distinguished doesn't make you special.  Kids who get lower scores might have other skill sets that standardized testing simply doesn't measure.  Or they might have parents who never took the brain their child had an tried to optimize it.  Daddy and I were taught to value education, and we pass that along to you and your brothers.  Not every kid has parents who do that.

*I'm much more concerned with how deep of a thinker you are, whether you reflect on your thoughts, your actions, your feelings.  Whether you treat others and yourself with respect and kindness.  No standardized test in the world measures those things, and those are tendencies you will use until you die.  They will serve you much more than fractions or knowing how electricity runs through a circuit.

*Standardized tests suck the fun out of learning, but don't allow that to happen.  Find things that interest you and read about them, experience them.  There is always delight in learning....always.  The world unfolds in magical ways if you seek its wonders openly.

Now go take that stupid test.

The Wednesday that made me turn the corner on crazy

I have given up.  Uncle. (Mother Nature, do you hear me?  I said UNCLE!)

Monday was a snow day and not once did I bitch on Facebook.  Not one time.  I made the kids hot cocoa and filled squeezable bottles with water & food coloring so they could paint the snow.  I shoveled snow over them up to their necks (at their request).

I can roll with the punches for one day, right???  RIGHT????

Yesterday, however, was an early dismissal due to a pending ice storm, which interfered with my plan to get M to nap since N and G were coming home at the time I would be settling M down for rest.

D came home from work early because of the storm so I felt like I couldn't do any of my normal stuff I might do (like go through all my consignment stuff that is sitting in the office) because he was working in there so I attempted to do our taxes while the kids were awake. That was dumb; I wasn't thinking straight.

N and I were supposed to have our first piano lesson with our new instructor but that was canceled due to the ice storm.

Today was another snow day, and I have zero energy or inclination to be motivated or happy or tolerant or anything.  I think I'm shoulder deep in the proverbial funk.

Who knows if the kids will go to school tomorrow?   I think I've lost my ability to care.

I drove up to the video store today and let them get movies and a game so they can sit in front of the screens and let their brains rot.  I've even discontinued the timer on the video games and computers because I really don't care to keep track of how much time they are spending on them.

I don't want to Pinterest or make Valentines or do anything of the sort.  I did all that this weekend when I made 100th day of school (which we may never actually get to experience because of this dumb ass weather) shirts with G and M (who wanted one too).  I helped G make a Valentine's Day container for his class party.  I went over N's written assessment sheets with her.  I was "the mom" this weekend.

I don't feel like being "the mom" now.  I feel like crawling under a blanket and hibernating until all this winter shit is over, until we have some semblance of order reestablished.  I feel like throwing a toddler-size tantrum on the floor, howling at the moon.

This truly is the winter of my discontent.

(I just noticed I don't have a tag for "winter."  It sucks THAT much.)

Inaneness and childrearing

Sometimes I really, really wish I could be a fly on the wall in other people's houses so I could either see that everyone else's kids do some of the loud, obnoxious, annoying and stupid crap mine do or have definitive proof that I am simply not cut out for this mothering children business because I can't handle much of the loud, obnoxious, annoying and stupid crap.

Like as much as can be had in two hours worth of errands with all 3 kids.

Here are two things that drive me immensely crazy about my children:

Random, meaningless noise--
Today in the car, N started chanting "majunga" (which is an actual city in Madagascar although I don't think N knows this).  Over and over and over.
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."
"Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  "Majunga."  Pause.  "Majunga."

See, that shit is irritating just looking at it.  Forget listening to it in the car.  For two hours.  More or less.

Watch me!--
I have no problem if my child wants to show me something she/he has never done before.  Or if the child is doing something really well.

But children, I've found, or at least mine, also want me to watch them do things that are either 1. completely mundane or 2. something at which they actually suck but they think they are great at it.  Either way, not only do I not want to watch, it is all I can do to muster a bored, "Meh" in the child's direction.

"Mom, watch me.....kick my legs towards the back (as if I'm a graceful ballerina) when really I look like a gangly giraffe trying to shake a turd off the back of my rear."

"Mom, watch me...pull my hands up into my sleeves and then try to pick up a toy and scream in utter frustration because with my limited fine-motor skills it is basically impossible."

I could probably think of other examples but they are so damn inane that I can't even bring them to mind.

(Note: The kids are on fall break, and I am reminded of why I felt so strung out by the end of summer.  One can only take so much of this junk.)

Thinking I've mellowed (and acknowledging the truth)

For a split second, I thought maybe I've mellowed in the 9 years that I've been a mom.

When I was expecting and soon after N's birth, I was pretty darn militant about natural childbirth and breastfeeding.  G being breech and not cooperating with external version, requiring a c-section, sorta helped calm me down.  Even though I wasn't laboring and pushing I had still had a baby, although under circumstances that I wouldn't have chosen had I been given my way.

M finally stopped nursing (or I cut him off--however you want to look at it) earlier this year.  After nursing him for 36+ months (and the other two for a grand total of something like 64 months), my feelings about breastfeeding have dwindled.  I certainly think breastfeeding is best, but I'm not on my bandwagon about it.

The lessening of my opinion about these things made me temporarily think I was "calming down."

But no.
I very soon realized that I continue to be highly opinionated about other issues that are more in line with where I am, and where my children are, in their lives.

For example, I have found that the general trend in my area of sending one's children through the local public school system for elementary school and then hightailing it to a nearby county for middle school pisses me off to a degree I find difficult to manage at times.

I totally get it.  As much as I support public education, I find my views challenged whenever two grandchildren of a neighbor come over and play with my children in the backyard.  These kids are not bad, but they are uncouth and generally not well managed by their mother (I guess there is a father in the picture....I really don't know), and they have an astounding ability to ramp my children up into a fit of ape-like insanity (as if my children need help in this respect).

If nothing else, this experience serves as a gentle kick-in-the-pants to me.  If I believe it is good for my children to be around other children from all different walks of life in public school, which I do, then I need to accept that this includes the uncouth and generally not well managed among them.  Having just reread To Kill a Mockingbird, I am reminded that Scout and Jem learned a great deal from the Ewells about how to behave (or not) in life.

I completely understand the desire to run off, and I respect a parent's right to make this choice.
But I think you are a coward if you do.
There.  I said it.

(If all of these well-meaning, volunteer-oriented parents who are strong advocates of education would stay where they are, I suspect the local schools would improve.  If everyone who is great and dedicated and knowledgeable runs off, then off course the schools are gonna blow.)

Another example of my lack of mellowness has appeared as N gets ever closer to middle school, and I see the path of her rebelling before me.  I have developed a much stronger opinion of tattoos than I've ever had before.

I have told my children that they can do anything temporary to their bodies that they want---nose rings (which you can take out or allow the hole to close), neon-green dyed hair, mohawk cuts.

But for the love of god, do not get permanent tattoos.
Or if you do, wait until you are 40 (because by then you may have the sense of not making it a neck tattoo or something huge that may hinder your ability to get into whatever field of employment you wish to pursue unless you wish to be an artist or something of that nature in which tattoos are appropriate).

I'm not anti-tattoo in general.  I don't think people who have tattoos are dumb or trashy or anything of the sort.
But I also think that tattooed skin on a 20-something person, which can look very cool, looks very, very terrible on a 50-year-old's skin.  I've seen how my own skin has changed since I turned 35, and I don't even want to think about what another decade of life will do to it.

I also think that people in certain fields, like teachers, doctors, attorneys, judges, nurses, CEOs, are probably not taken as seriously (or hired) if their bodies are covered in tattoos.  I certainly would not want someone who looks like Travis Barker teaching my kids (although if he was f*cking OUTSTANDING I could look past the excessive body art a bit).

Where I live, there seems to be three types of folks:
1. the ones with a dinky little tattoo on their toes (and really why bother if it is gonna be a dot of ink?)
2. the ones with ginormous tattoos covering their arms and legs that cost hundreds of dollars (and really do you not have rent to pay or a car payment?)
3. the people like me who have no tattoos (we are a very, very small group of 4 people).

I have begun to think of it in this regard lately.  The skin is the body's largest organ.  Would you inject dye into your liver or kidney?  Then why into your skin?

This diatribe on uncouthness and body art is clear evidence that
1. my soapbox remains completely intact
and
2. I have become a full-fledged curmudgeonly old lady.