it's almost november 2

Everyone has all these political posts. I feel left out.
I never talk politics.
It might be because I see the election as having one, major issue:
Is he Bush?
No?
Sold.

personal information

Last night, my ex called me and said, "Joy, I’m engaged.”
I turned around, called my cousin, and screamed, “He’s getting MARRIED!” into the receiver.
And then I went to bed. Because I had no more words, did not know how to explain that while I was glad he was getting married, glad to the base of my spine, that I also, simultaneously, wanted to cry. For my loss.
It is not, as many believe and will most likely continue to believe, that I want to marry him; I don’t, or that I have pulled a classic Please-don’t-marry-her-I-loved-you-all-along-and-didn’t-know-it-you-used-to-love-me-and-you-do-now-choose-me! scenario, or even, as I have joked before, that I am loath to lose my proverbial “back-up man.”
It is more something about going home, about having no home at the moment, and that he was my last remnant of that sense, of home. Imagine someone saying, “Excuse me, I need the floor you’re standing on,” something akin to that. Sensation. Like waking up one morning to find you’re sleeping in an open field rather than your own bed.
To think that he can fall in love but that I cannot, that while I was the one who walked away, he is the one who moves on. Irony. It scares me. Leaves me breathless. And tender.
Be careful of me, please. I’ve just been skinned.

chalkalicious

did you know that chalk dust on the hands causes ingrown fingernails? of the bleeding, pussing variety, yes, because apparently it dries out your hands and something something i don't really understand it but it hurts. so, did you know? no, you didn't, but you wanted to; yes you did.

alone with cats

two conversations on the topic of dying alone with cats --
1.
me: i'm going to die alone, with cats.
friend: why, why will you die alone with cats? don't say that.
me: it's ok. i'm ok with it.
friend: you know, if you're with cats, technically you're not alone
me: (stony silence)
2.
me: i'm going to die alone, with cats.
sister: not with cats, joy
me: why not with cats?
sister: i hear cats smell
me: . . . two cats?

germs

you will notice that in every teacher's room is an economy-sized squirt bottle of anti-bacterial gel.
yet, for some reason, when asked to demonstrate to my esl children what "flat on the ground" meant, i found myself lying on the floor of my classroom, yelling, "This is what it means!"
they give teachers 10 sick days per year for a reason.

for the love of the 10th grade

It has become apparent that Aryan has a crush on me. He blushes everytime I speak to him, which I find some parts comical and other parts disturbing. His most obvious display of affection, however, occurred today, after school, when he presented me with a poster-size caricature of himself and asked me, "Where will you hang it up?"
I did not know the answer to that question.

tomorrow

i have a sleeping bag in my classroom. it was originally used as an example for some lesson. but i think tomorrow it will fulfill its sleeping bag destiny. tomorrow, we reinstitute naptime.

humble pie

Humble pie is the meal one eats when directly confronted with one's shortcomings. Lunch today is humble pie, and I must eat it. It's in the fine print. "When one is given humble pie, one is required to eat it and can under no circumstances shirk this duty."
Aryan is a student with whom I have had continous conflict. On the first day of school, he offered to find me a boyfriend. For the entire first week, he spoke out of turn. At the end of the first month, he came and told me that he had been skipping my class and then leered at me, as if we were sharing a joke. A few days ago, we had a true fight over his behavior in class, after which I cried like a child. Yes, like a child.
In other words, Aryan and I have a rather complex relationship.
Complexity aside--yesterday, upon learning that his grandmother was in a coma, I wanted to talk to him. So today, I asked him, "Aryan, how are you? I heard about your grandmother."
"Miss," he wanted to know, "when did you find out about this?"
"Yesterday."
"During lunch?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. You looked like you were about to talk to me. You looked at me differently."
And then he sat in my classroom, quietly, as I worked at my desk.

"You looked at me differently." I am so ashamed.

post-college

Once upon a time, a Business Honors Student (medolie) attempted to comfort a First Year Teacher (JoieTang).

medolie: joy joy
medolie: its okay
medolie: i am going to have a bad job
medolie: there are worse fates in life
medolie: at least
medolie: you don't have a BAD job
JoieTang: no
JoieTang: it's not a bad job
JoieTang: it's stressful
JoieTang: i will die alone, and the proud owner of several cats, but you're right
JoieTang: there are worse fates

True Story

Today, I develop a forehead pimple.

I look at it and suddenly remember -- last year, I owned a forehead pimple so large and so red that I was asked if it was a bindi.

True Story.

It burst one night, morphing into a massive, open welt covering the entire area between my eyebrows. And so, I was forced to buy purple Harry Potter bandaids, which I cut into lightening bolts and wore to school every day for approximately a month.
If asked, "What happened to your forehead?"
I replied, "I was in a knife fight. Do you like my bandaid?"
And the other party was forced to admit that, actually, Harry Potter was an excellent choice.

Craving Cardboard

a Preface:
1) Jowithani calls me "Mommie," because many years ago, when I was a second year high school debate team member and she was a first year member, I "adopted" her, as was the tradition on our team. It's been a running joke every since.
2) My first dance class since the year 2000 took place this morning.
------

Jowithani: Mommmiee!!
JoieTang: i think i should sign myself up for foodstamps
JoieTang: live in a box
JoieTang: and just take dance classes
JoieTang: until i die of starvation
JoieTang: i would die happy
JoieTang: hello
Jowithani: i agree
Jowithani: can you get a doublewide box?
JoieTang: we can build an entire box chateau

these days

lately, all my entries are about food.
(sigh)
try: fresh ground peanut butter and cinnamon on a warm wheat tortilla.
it's not exactly good for you, but it is oh-so-good.