I am not entirely sure to do with myself this morning, so I find myself
writing. Which I haven't done -really done- in a long time.

I have a little bit of a hangover.

For the past few weeks and days, I've spent all my time getting ready
to leave my job, and to not be an art teacher anymore. There were little
details to take care of, like making sure I have health insurance to
carry me through the summer, cleaning my desk, finishing the work that
I left behind, picking out shoes to wear to graduation, pulling the art
down off the walls, handing out the yearbooks I helped design, and
preparing the last few lessons to teach. These tasks kept me busy and
preoccupied.

Then there are the larger things to still cope with. Yesterday I said
goodbye to my students for the last time, most of whom I won't see ever
again. And even though the day was happy and bright and
beautiful,  I felt like underneath my heart was breaking. Because
this job wasn't just about fingerpaint and glitter, or being a good
teacher, or having the summers off- it was something that I loved with
my whole being.  It turned me into something else, and now I don't
have it anymore.

The funny thing is, i never really wrote about being a teacher. I
always wanted to, but the words just never came out right. So I just
let it be.

---

Yesterday one of my former students came to the ceremony. Two and a
half years ago, on the first day I was a new teacher, she was in my
class- twelve years old, tough, sullen, and brilliant. For the first
few weeks I didn't know how to handle this angry girl- she scared the
crap out of me and  made me dread coming to work. She was a lifer-
one of the ones who had lived at the program since she was taken into
DSS custody as a little kid, and was so tangled up in disaster that her
case seemed hopeless. On good days myself and the other teachers and
counselors did the best we could, but on others it seemed like an
impossible cause. I almost quit, because I couldn't deal with the
reality of her, and the kids like her at my school. They all seemed
doomed,  already damaged beyond my help, having dealt with more
trauma and misery than my stupid naive self could imagine. Who was I to
try to soothe that, and tell them that learning to paint and draw would
make it all better?  The whole thing seemed stupid. I was
inadequate, and she made me see that.

But she also taught me better than anything I've ever known. She kicked
my ass on most days, outsmarted me left and right, mocked me, ignored
me, belittled me, and  toughened me up. She grew up that year, and
so did I. By the time she was ready to leave, having gotten to old to
stay at our program any longer, we had become friendly adversaries. She
often asked to come to my classroom at recess to hang out, we took our
picture together for the yearbook, and she sang and rapped for me.
I  was worried about where she's end up- this brillant girl with
all the world waiting for her, if she could just let go of that
terrible past and walk away from the people who were holding her
back  I think I learned how to hope better because of her.

Yesterday  when I saw her, she was beautiful, taller than me, her
hair done up, pink velour J-Lo suit on, looking happy and hugging
everyone. She's 14 now, going on her junior year in high school, and is
already applying to colleges. Incredible.

Why am I so passionate about my job? Because despite all the bad days,
I got to be a part of something like that. And that is just one story
out of hundreds.

---

The principal came down to my
room yesterday afternoon to pick up my keys, and to wish me luck. I
knew it was a forced gesture of goodwill, since I had somehow ended up
on her shitlist at some point in the year. I really have no idea why,
since she always complained behind my back and never discussed things
with me, and often was not quite forthcoming with the help I sometimes
needed. I knew I did good things, and even thought I barely had any
supervision
or support, I made this year the best anyone had known in a long
time.The crappiest part of the job was dealing with the grownups, so I
mostly stuck around for the kids. After all, I was probably the only
adult who would let them make a mess and tell snot jokes.  Those
things are important.

---

After work yesterday, I went to a
party at the gym teacher's house, a few blocks from mine. It was
surreal to be in a strange house hanging out with people I only ever
knew from school, laughing our asses off and drinking in the kitchen.
For instance, I had no idea that the first grade teacher, who I had
only ever seen reading Dr Seuss books or  telling children to not
pick their noses,  was capable of saying the word "FUCK!" It was
wierd, but fun, but very wierd. We all got crocked and started
confessing  to each other like crazy old friends, and everyone
said they would miss me, and that I was a great teacher. I said we
should have gotten drunk together more often, then we could all be great teachers.

---

So that's it. I'm not the mad
maven of fingerpaint and glitter, purveyor of crayola, coloringbook
genius, master of all things crazy and creative any longer. I have
abdicated. I'm done.  I am unemployed.  Now what??

Today, i am going to have a nap. I will take myself out for indian
food, and later meet up with my friends to do something  silly. I
don't have to have a plan for today.

Later, i'll work on my resume, maybe find a cool little job somewhere,
save up some money, do some drawings, paint a mural, and save up to go
on an adventure as soon as I can. It is summertime, and there are all
these blissfully empty days ahead. There is some kind of potential
there. Incredible.

---

Ever wonder how silk is made?

I am totally tanked right now. Will explin more tomotrrow., Is very
profound . yeah, promise utter profundity fiscfation- ness later and shit,. Rowr.

WANT    Taquitos.

Wooooo!

Today is the last day of school. For me, the last day ever. Not an art teacher anymore.

And then.....

?

Lark

I have a lot to write about, what with school ending tomorrow and such, but it's a bit heavy to deal with at the moment.

I'm listening to a song I heard at the Pops last week. I am no classical music connosieur, but it is easily the lovliest thing I have heard in a long time. The violin sounds almost like a Koto, and the strand of music recalls blue skies and pagodas....I am moved by the patient eartbound sound of the cello, with its long drawn hum....it feels like walking through tall grass on a summer day. Sigh.

"The Lark Ascending" by Vaughn Wagner

He rises and begins to round,
            He drops the silver chain of sound,
            Of many links without a break.....

poem by George Meredith

hear the poem and song here.
(3:50 is about where i start to swoon)
           

Everyone needs a Trunk Monkey!

Bwahahah! I scored free tickets to the Boston Pops for tonight, we're up on the swanktastic balcony. Personally, I plan on throwing spitballs at the back of Keith Lockhart's head. Gotta have stealth.

---

 The 2004 Darwin Award Nominees!!

THE 2004 DARWIN AWARDS

Yes, these are all true. They are finally out again. It's an annual
honor given to the person who did the gene pool the biggest service by
killing themselves in the most extraordinarily stupid way. Last year's
winner was the fellow who was killed by a Coke machine which toppled
over on top of him as he was attempting to tip a free soda out of it.

And the nominees this year in reverse order are.....

7. A young Canadian man, searching for a way of getting drunk cheaply,
because he had no money with which to buy alcohol, mixed gasoline with
milk. Not surprisingly, this concoction made him ill, and he vomited
into the fireplace in his house. The resulting explosion and fire burned
his house down, killing both him and his sister.

6. A 34-year-old white male found dead in the basement of his home died
of suffocation, according to police. He was aproximately 6' 2" tall and
weighed 225 pounds. He was wearing a pleated skirt, white bra, black and
white saddle shoes and a woman's wig. It appeared that he was trying to
create a schoolgirl's uniform look. He was also wearing a military gas
mask that had the filter canister removed and a rubber hose attached in
its place. The other end was inserted into his rectum for reasons
unknown, and was the cause of his suffocation. Police found the task of
explaining the circumstances of his death to his family very awkward.
(Damn it...I want pictures!!!)

5. Three Brazilian men were flying in a light aircraft at low altitude
when another plane approached. It appears that they decided to moon the
occupants of the other plane, but lost control of their own aircraft and
crashed. They were all found dead in the wreakage with their pants
around their ankles.

4. A 22-year-old, Glade Drive, Reston, VA, man was found dead after he
tried to use octopus straps to bungee jump off a 70 foot railroad
trestle. Fairfax County police said Eric Barcia, a fast-food worker,
taped a bunch of these straps together, wrapped one end around one foot,
anchored the other end to the trestle at Lake Accotink Park, jumped and
hit the pavement. Warren Carmichael, a police spokesman, said
investigators think Barcia was alone because his car was found nearby.
"The length of the cord that he assembled was greater than the distance
between the trestle and the ground," Carmichael said. Police say the
apparent cause of death was "Major trauma."

3. A man in Alabama died from rattlesnake bites. It seems that he and a
friend were playing a game of catch, using the rattlesnake as a ball.
The friend, no doubt a future Darwin Awards candidate, was hospitalized.

2. Employees in a medium-sized warehouse in west Texas noticed the smell
of a gas leak. Sensibly, management evacuated the building,
extinguishing all potential sources of ignition; lights, power, etc.
After the building had been evacuated, two technicians from the gas
company were dispatched. Upon entering the building, they found they had
difficulty navigating in the dark. To their frustration, none of the
lights worked. Witnesses later described the sight of one of the
technicians reaching into his pocket and retrieving an object that
resembled a cigarette lighter. Upon operation of the lighter-like
object, the gas in the warehouse exploded, sending pieces of it up to
three miles away. Nothing was found of the technicians, but the lighter
was virtually untouched by the explosion. The technician suspected of
causing the blast had never been thought of as 'bright' by his peers.

...AND THE WINNER OF THE 2004 DARWIN AWARD (SHOULD BE....)

Based on a bet by the other members of his threesome, Everitt Sanchez
tried to wash his own "balls" in a ball washer at the local golf course.
Proving once again that beer and testosterone are a bad mix, Sanchez
managed to straddle the ball washer and dangle his scrotum in the
machine. Much to his dismay, one of his buddies upped the ante by
spinning the crank on the machine with Sanchez's scrotum in place, thus
wedging them solidly in the mechanism. Sanchez, who immediately passed
his threshold of pain, collapsed and tumbled from his perch.
Unfortunately for Sanchez, the height of the ball washer was more than a
foot higher off the ground than his testicles are in a normal stance,
and the scrotum was the weakest link. Sanchez's scrotum was ripped open
during the fall, and one testicle was plucked from him forever and
remained in the washer, while the other testicle was compressed and
flattened as it was pulled between the housing of the washer, and the
rotating machinary inside. To add insult to injury, Sanchez broke a new
$300 driver that he had just purchased from the pro shop, and was using
to balance himself. Sanchez was rushed to the hospital for surgery, and
the remaining threesome were asked to leave the course.
NOTE: This last one wouldn't normally count, because the idiot didn't
die. But because he cannot reproduce as a result of his qualifying act
of stupidity, we have allowed it

One year; for my most beloved Hedgehog.

I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

Heh heh, yeah, that last post was a shameless plug for my art, but there's a story behind it. Anyway, since you all got so excited, I'll see about posting more stuff later. Thanks for inflating my ego, y'all.

I did Mouseprints in memorium to my departed pet mousie, Shadow. It was part of a series of little silly poems and collages about Mouse Heaven, which i then made into a teeny book for my junior year poetry class. Perhaps I will also post this later. *Sniff* I miss my mouse.

Walking Around was inspired by a Pablo Neruda poem of the same name. I went through a phase for a few weeks where all i did was hole up in my studio, covered in oil pastel, and crank out art. I think i must have made about twenty pieces, but as much as i love the colors in them, pastel is a biotch to scan/ frame/ present as an illustration to publishers. So the good thing is, it's one of the few art pieces I made entirely for myself, just for the pleasure of getting messy.

So the story behind all this? Yesterday I got three offers to paint murals this summer, and I am making a proposal for another series at the school where I teach. Literally within a span of five hours, one guy emailed me asking to paint his recording studio in Philly, another for some murals in a motorcycle shop, and my uncle called to let me know they're looking for someone to paint in the pediatric ward at the hospital where he works. So i have been trying to get my shiz together, organize my resume, rebuild a portfolio website, and put my art somewhere where potential clients can see it. I'm totally crazy. This summer is gonna be great.

As promised, I leave you with a little somethin'- somethin' from my illustration folio.

The Notch, oil pastel on bristol paper.