Let It Go! (J/K Don't Do That, That's Crazy!)

So I'm in my new classroom with Grace, the other TA, finishing paperwork at the end of the day and she says "Oh! We haven't played our songs! Let's play our songs!" She proceeds to pull out her phone and play Into the Unknown and it's at this moment I realize I have a problem; how hard do I go? I mean, anyone reading this blog knows damn well I know all the words to Into the Unknown but Grace doesn't yet realize that I'm an eight year old masquerading as an adult (though the Elsa backback, lunch box, and Taylor Swift pool towel should be a bit of a clue). Then she plays Let it Go and I'm in a full on panic! Just what the hell am I supposed to do here? If I were home, I'd sing every word with confidence, indulging in the moment, but I can't do that at work, in front of someone I've known for five minutes. Grace is singing along, blissfully unware of what it's like to question your every move cause you know that everyone thinks you're weird and awkward (all of which is true) and while you're generally fine with that, it might be good if you were more than a month in to your new job before they find out you're only somewhat saner than the students (all of whom have documented issues due to the nature of the school). Therein lies the issue with knowing your different and deciding when and how you let others know it. More often than not, I don't decide to let anyone know anything; I couldn't hide the fact that I'm more than somewhat offbeat if I tried (and yes, on occasion, I've tried). Like I said, I've learned to accept and even embrace this (still working on this part) but I still feel a certian (or perhaps uncertain) type of way when I see other women show up to work in pigtails or gush over Frozen, because when it's a one off it's fine (I'm guessing) but if it's actually who you are, well... The end result is a steady stream of should I's, how do I go about, are people going to snicker at this? (Probaby) and do I care (not enough not to do it) that I have to navigate; a never ending maelstrom of thoughts that are detracting from my every day life and doing the important work of supplying Carbon (my cat) with all the treats on earth (which, according to her, is my true reason for living and she couldn't care less what I'm singing while doing it). So, here I stand, and here I'll stay. Wondering (hoping?) if my peculiarities are more endearing than off putting, and not being sure that I care enough about the answer. Sigh. Let the storm rage on...

A Wise Woman Once Said...F This S%*$# and She Lived Happily Ever After?

I dream of cracking locks, throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks...This cage was once just fine... A month or so ago things at work got more fustrating than usual; (and that's making a statement) and as a result I started looking elsewhere... I started at a new school (for a good deal more money) on July 7th. I'm very happy about this! Or I suppose I will be happy about it...eventually. Right now I'm too mired in anxiey and trepidation to truly celebrate what I logically know is a major win. I've been at Prufrock Preschool for four years and, the truth is, it gave me my life back. Four years ago I was in the midst of a storm and drowning. Prufrock was like an oasis; an island in the turbulent sea I didn't believe I could reach...and now I'm leaving that island to leap into the unknown, is that crazy? It's crazy, right?? My new job (more or less the same position) feels like a giant leap forward and hopefully has less nonsense (read, no bosees whose personality depends on what day it is or borderline racist lead teachers), so what's the problem? The problem is the whole thing feels like a fever dream. I joked with people on my last day at Prufrock that I hoped I didn't accidentally show up there on Monday; I was only half teasing. A big part of me feels like my alarm is going to go off any second and I'm going to wake up to the heartbreaking reality that none of the roller-coaster ride that I've been on for the past month or so was actually real. That I'm trapped at Prufrock and might be forever, exactly as I feared. Breaking out of Shawshank wasn't easy; I've spent the last month or so moving in the shadows Charlotte Dolbre style. I interviewed on my lunch (twice). Jumped through hoops in stealthy silence. (My second favorite little sister Emily was one of the very few along for the ride). Read correspondence surreptitously on my watch (Incurring the wrath of my boss when caught). All culminating in what felt like a mad dash towards sanity. Now, I wait. Wait for the feeling that I just blew my life up to dissipate. Wait to be as happy for myself as everyone else is for me (which I am on an intellectual level). Wait to stop being terrified of this next step so I can live my best life, Shawshank free!

Have fun or else!

Brunch! Movies! Party! Shopping! Dinner! More parties! Another brunch! Book club! Gotta be in it to win it! Or somthing. (Insert eye roll here). The point is I (and the rest of the world) seem to dedicate an inordinate amount of time to making absolutely sure we have fun when we're not working! (Probably because we spend far too much time at work). Which sometimes turns fun into...work. It's 4:30pm on a Saturday, I haven't done a damn thing and I'm ecstatic! But I also feel, somewhat...guilty? Because when I'm not doing something it feels...odd. From August of last year through January of this year my social calendar resembled the late Queen of England (seeing as I am a princess maybe I shouldn't complain but I'm going to do so anyway); trips, business meetings, parties, birthdays, Broadway shows (work was in there somewhere I suppose). I feel like I'm running a goddamn marathon (which is strictly against my policy) with no end in sight. Now, this is not to say that I'm not having fun. I am. Truly (very little scarcasam here but not zero). I love spending time with my family; I'm extremely fortunate to have them. And a plethora of friends to boot. It's incredible and amazing for someone who tends to feel like an afterthough in other people's lives. The thing is, I'm an ambivert, which means, whatever I'm doing, I want to be doing the opposite thing. Home without plans? How come nobody likes me? Meeting up at a club for drinks? Awesome! When are we leaving? Also, fun is expensive! Why in the hell does a simple dinner cost $96 dollars? Ice skating? $110. Not including food. A day at the mall? Get ready to drop $30 on food and $130 on stuff you didn't need. Ugh! But we all do it. We dedicate ourselves faithfully to having fun on the weekends. To spending that time off of the hampster wheel proving that we have actual lives. When sometimes all it feels like we're doing is recharging long enough to hop back on said hampster wheel to Go! Go! Go! Stop! Stop! Stop! Why are we going at such an insane pace? Oh yeah, because if we don't we might miss something, and we can't have that! "On an island that I own, tan and rested and ALONE..." Wise words from Disney (Eugene from Tangled). All I want is five minutes of QUIET! And also to make sure my time spent away from work is meaningful and fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!

Almost Famous For Almost A Day

Recently I've been hanging out with this woman I met at work and if you heard me talk about her you'd think I was obsessed with her...because I kinda am (in the most platonic, non stalker way possible). I wish I could give you a logical reason why but logic and I have never been friends... Me being me, it doesn't hurt that she has a voice like a Disney Princess (this hadn't occurred to me until my friend Dolo pointed it out but now I can't un-hear it and, as such, I'm addicted to listening to her talk), she's absolutely in love with the color pink (further Disney Princess vibes), goes out of her way to make people feel special (she's a self described people pleaser, an affliction from which I also suffer) and is just genuinely...awesome. So am I telling you this because I want the world to know how amazing Lavender is? No (okay maybe), I'm telling you because my "obsession" with Lavender reminds me of someone who seems to find me as fascinating as I do her; Patrick. Patrick is one of my cousin Teri's closest friends, who is married to one of her other very close friends Sara (not to be confused with her best friend and "twin" Sarah, that part of the family seems to have a thing where the important people in their lives all share a name). In addition to being a firefighter and father of two, Patrick is funny and outgoing and, for reasons known only to himself, reads this blog religiously. To the point that he's annoyed that I don't post more often! I love it. Despite my random ramblings about whatever trivial thing is on my mind, Patrick reads my musings faithfully. (I don't even know how he found this blog). As a result, I feel like a celebrity with a massive fan base (of exactly one). He knows my birthday and seems to follow up on my (usually uneventful) life. So, how do I say thank you to my number one fan? Well, today is his birthday so I figured it was the perfect opportunity to let him know how much I appreciate his readership and his presence in my life. HAPPY BIRTHDAY PATRICK!!!! This post is dedicated to you!

What I Think is For All Time is Momentary...

Or reason #2,990,786 why cats are easier than people. So I'm at work listening to three of my co-workers talk about getting wasted in the the city a few weekends ago and I have two thoughts; 1. thank God I wasn't invited. 2. Why wasn't I invited. These are women I've hung out with several times before so why didn't they ask me if I wanted to go get drunk in the city? Despite typing that I feel the need to point out that NO PART OF ME WANTS TO GET DRUNK IN THE CITY. Or anywhere else for that matter but, unfortunatly, my brain does a thing whenever I see people doing things without me where it attaches absurd meaning to what I logically know is (likely) meaningless. It goes like this: People I'm friends with do something without me (to be clear, this only applies to situations in which I wasn't invited, not times when I was invited but couldn't/didn't want to go). I ask myself why I wasn't invited (regardless of whether I would have actually wanted to go). I come up with logical reasons as to why I wasn't invited. I throw those reasons out the window, instead working myself into a frenzy about how my friends don't really like me. Why do I do this, you ask? Well as soon as I figure it out, I'll post an update. The simple fact is, I've been doing this my entire life. Sometimes I think I spend more time anticipating the end of friendships than enjoying them. No wonder I like cats better than people; the only thing I have to worry about with Carbon (current cat) is keeping her off the counter. And figuring out what food she feels like eating today. And why the hell she's meowing at me (What. Does. She. Want???). And taking her for walks (yes, I walk my cat. On a pink leash). And, And...oh well, still easier than humans.

The trouble with expansion

I find myself planning out one of the sessions of my latest class, picturing the various activities in my mind, getting more and more excited and then...bam! I remember I'm not going to actually get to see any of it because I'm not going to be there; I don't teach my own classes anymore. Oh sure, Arizona (yea, like the state but I prefer to think of it in Ma Barker, the leader of a notorious gang, whose real name was Arizona (though she went by Kate) will take pics/video but it's not the same and it's at this moment that I realize the down side to expanding. I've always had fantasies of expanding Writing Rainbow to other states, hell, even other countries and, of course I knew this meant that the day was coming when I would have to hand my classes over to someone else, but, somehow, it hadn't dawned on me that that would mean, I would miss out on the fun in real time. For nearly a decade (7 years) Writing Rainbow has been the princess Mar-li show, running on sprinkles, ice magic, and God's grace, and suddenly there's this other person around for me to manage (a seriously scary thought in and of itself). Now, in addition to planning the classes, gathering the supplies, and running laps to White Plains to get them to Arizona, my time (and more than a little energy) is spent wondering how my staff (assuming the number of employees doesn't stop at one) will dress for classes (mainly, I'm trying to decide if I can "encourage" them to dress like a Disney Princess, even though I don't actually want them to do that; cause that's my thing 🙃), whether they'll be on time, and keeping track of hours worked; you know, like an adult running a business. I don't remember signing up for that, I signed up to have parties featuring awesome laser light shows and actually experience them in real time wearing incredibly fabulous dresses (see attached pic), not be somebody's boss! Ugh! who left me in charge?

Perhaps Arrested Development Isn't A Bad Thing....

It has been brought to my attention that I am somewhat...immature for my age. Repeatedly. I like pastels. There's a pink tulle canopy over my bed (which is currently sporting ice cream bed sheets). I still buy an advent calendar; the cardboard kind with cheap chocolate. So I guess all the rumors are true, I am my inner child but....so what??? Society makes a big deal about "growing up" and "acting your age" (At least they claim to, in actuality, there seems to be an ever increasing amount of people who are perfectly content to go around acting like toddlers) but...why? Yeah, yeah, yeah you have to reach a point in your life where you're responsible for yourself; go to work, pay bills yada, yada, yada but, assuming you're doing all that (or at least trying your damndest) why does the rest matter? I've covered this before but it bears repeating because not only do I not see the big deal about liking pigtails and Frozen in my 40s, I actually think my "arrested development" has helped me at times. I recieved a gift bag yesterday from the parent of a student who is moving up to the next classroom which included a beautiful card (also a paper tiara) thanking me for chatting about princesses with their daughter, saying that these conversations made her day on several occasions. Wonderful but I didn't have those conversations with her because I somehow sensed that I needed to "make her day", I did it because I like to talk about princesses (because I am one, duh!). I believe Writing Rainbow has performed beyond my expectations in large part because I've poured my whole self into it; the writing, the tiaras, the (not so) inner child, it's all there for anyone who interacts with Writing Rainbow to see. The way I see it, there are upsides to my "childlike demeanor" some of which are as follows: *Children see me as a bigger version of them (accurate), allowing for better comradery with my students. *Other adults seem easily impressed by me (probably because they think anyone willing to wear Disney dresses in public couldn't possibly be capable of functioning) which has worked to my advantage on several occasions. *I tend not to judge others (at least not for appearing "abnormal"), as I know exactly what it feels like to be judged for being unconventional. *I have an ability to get along with a wide array of people. To that effect my range of friends span several decades; the oldest is 80 (former HS history teacher), the youngest is 24 and I believe I'm a better person for knowing them both. Both have and continue to teach me things about myself. This is apparently confusing to some. I've been asked "How can you be friends with someone so much older/younger?" Simple. I'm ageless. I know music from the 70s. I can have an entire conversation using mainly emojis (I'm not saying I enjoy or even understand why this occurs, I'm just saying I can do it). Of course there are some drawbacks: Sometimes I miss social cues, resulting in awkward and painful situations that were likely avoidable if I were developmentally where I'm "supposed" to be. I have been ridiculed more than a few times for "dressing like a 10-year old." To that effect, people feel the need to remind me I'm an adult, as if having reached middle age with very little to show for it isn't enough of a reminder. The point is, I'm profoundly different from a lot (most?) people. I've known that my entire life (also, people have been telling me as much for about as long) but honestly? Who cares? So long as I'm making progress, why shouldn't I do it in an Elsa dress? Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a tiara on Amazon I simply have to have...