Inspired By Toby

Shirt & Belt: thrifted from SIL; Skirt: H&M; Tights:???; Shoes: Payless; Necklace: Target...or Walmart..I don't remember.

{What I'm Wearing and Thinking}

After playing around with music and iMovie last night to publicly humiliate myself with my dumb toy on YouTube, I began to think a lot about one of my favorite movies. Betcha can't guess which one!! If you seriously can't, then you need to go watch "Labyrinth" pronto! Then you'll understand the title for today's post. I'm ready to be wished away to the goblin city! One of the little girl Fourthies kept asking me if my feet hurt today because my heels were so high. Seriously, it was at least once every thirty minutes followed by "My mommy says those kind of shoes hurt her feet, but then she wears them to go out, and then she takes them off because they hurt and she walks around with no shoes." The story and innocent concern over my feet was cute the first time...at seven o'clock in the morning. It got irritating somewhere around lunch, especially when the whole class gasped at the sight of me walking boldly across the field in my red stilettos. Is it really that amazing? They thought so. Why not? I am the Hero of Heels! And, no; my feet still do not hurt. :P

{What I'm Writing}

        Most girls have a favorite outfit. The infamous Little Black Dress. Those jeans that make her butt look perfect. Sweats and a tee shirt. I'm not all that different. I do have a favorite outfit, but it's more of an idea than a physical reality. It keeps shifting. I know that it's perfect as soon as I put it on, because the perfect outfit is the one that inspires me. No, I'm not an artist. I'm a murderer...er, murderess. A lot of pop culture would have you believe that this is a mental disease or disorder. I don't. Killing is just something I like to do. It releases a lot of negative energy and gets rid of at least one annoying and useless person. My favorite outfit is the one that ends up stained with their blood. I love the-- I'm stopping here. This is terrible writing. It's melodramatic and fluffy. I'll come back to this idea when I have more brain power. Until then, enjoy this quasi-summary of a dream I had a while back.

          It's the end of the world. As usual, the rich and powerful of the world have created a safe place for them to stay until the world calms down. A man and woman rush frantically through falling debris and panicked people. They've been given two seats by the man's father, a powerful, but corrupt, senator who can only see the error of his ways in the face of death.

          There is a horde of civilians at the gates to the miracle ship. The ship has many seats, like a massive Grey Hound bus, and after the rich and powerful are on board a lottery for the boarding tickets will begin. People are frantically fighting and the scene is getting ugly. 

          The lottery is finished, but there are still two empty seats left. People can see them and are screaming to get on board. Finally, the man and the woman crawl through the crowd, literally clawing and grabbing to make their way on, over, and through people. They make it to the front of the crowd, but the ticket taker is in a heated, and rather ridiculous, argument with a civilian. He's completely distracted and ignores the man and the woman waving tickets in front of his face. 

          The ship is about to leave. Frustrated, the man grabs the ticket taker's hand and thrusts the tickets into his palm as he and the woman jump the guard rails and sprint for their seats. The ticket taker and his surrounding civilians are in shock and can only gape in disbelief as the man and the woman run through the ship. 

          Before they reach their seats, the ship begins to move. The man and the woman must brace themselves on the seats of others to keep themselves from flying through the aisles. Finally, they reach their seats and strap in. They've made it just in time. The ship must travel through the center of the earth to escape the impending doom [I don't know why this is, it's just the feeling I got in the dream]. The ship nose dives and the man and woman can see the red hot flames outside of the ship as the exterior temperature rises. Passengers near the hull are in danger. The heat and pressure cause some bolts and glass to pop. Many are wounded and some are even killed. The ship was designed to withstand the intensity of the earth's core, but the reality is more than disappointing. The man and woman hold hands and prepare for the worst.

Forget It!

Curlers: Big Lots; Robe: Gifted; Ring: Hubby; Expression: House of I Don't Care

{What I'm wearing}: Yes. I'm wearing curlers. And a big fluffy robe. It was one of those fashion days. The kind where you just have to rip everything off and crawl into your security blanket with sleeves because, confidence be damned, you just want to be cozy and forget that fashion exists. What's all that about? you say? Yesterday's outfit felt like, not so much a miss, but a...foul ball. Nobody holds it against you, and the game goes on, but you feel totally awkward and embarrassed. I'm talking about the collared shirt under the way too thin sweater that made my torso look like a stuffed scare-crow. Or maybe that's just how I was feeling. Anyway, today's outfit wasn't so bad: Gray slim fit pants, black flowery tunic under a purple swing sweater all belted together with a lovely gray belt tied ala` Sydney who I also believe inspired dear Adrienne's outfit in the same tutorial. One of the Fourth-ies said I looked cute and that she liked my outfit...one of the kid Four-thies. Which is cool; she's a good kid. I'm not bonding so well with the staff. I think I might have stepped in it when I commented that I had implemented "workshop" into my 7th grade self-contained class last year  and that I could manage the fourth graders fine and I just needed to know what direction I should be headed in for my unplanned days instead of crawling in begging for guidance because I, a lowly sub, can not function without lesson plans from the permanent teacher. Okay, I'm being *overly* dramatic here. But I don't think the other fourth grade teachers liked me saying I could function fine because I had taught middle school. I mighty have been subconsciously hoity-toity. {Oops}

 {What I'm Thinking}: Speaking of my {temporary} fourth graders, there is a set of twins in the room. I thought there was a rule against that. I shouldn't be all that shocked; I had a set of twin boys in my sixth grade class my first year of teaching. That's what made me decide that if there wasn't a rule against it, there definitely should be. Do you know how awkward it is to explain to a parent that one of their sons is doing just fine but the other is in a downward spiral on all fronts and they've got both the boys in the conference with you? That sucks. I could understand the situation if it was a year-round, multi-track school and having them in the same class was the only way to get them on the same schedule. But the school I'm at only has the one schedule! Why do this to a teacher? ::sigh:: It's only my problem for three more days and then I can forget about it.

{What I'm Writing}: My blog has been my most creative writing to date. I wrote a summary about an article on pretzels this afternoon. For the Fourthies. I should really try to write less stream-of-consciousness style on here. It's annoying and diary-ish, isn't it? Maybe this is why I can't think of anything. That stupid crystal has sucked out all of my drive. Well? Laugh*.

 *Yes, that was supposed to be a Jareth quote. :p

School Marm-ish

I went to work today! Bringin' in that money, honey! And when I go to work, I like to dress like I'm going to work. Collared shirts, you're movin' up! I think it's important for teachers to dress "professionally," and by that I mean we should look as good as any cubicle worker does, if not better. After all, we are molding the minds of the future. Shouldn't they also be learning that a teacher is a professional and worthy of a white collar? However, I also get that being a teacher also may entail crawling around on the ground, tying shoe laces, running through fields (no, not nearly as romantic as it sounds), and wiping snot. In which case, you probably don't want to be wearing Armani...or even Gap, for that matter. But, still; maybe kids wouldn't be so abusive if we looked more like their bosses and less like their moms.

Speaking of moms...no, I'm not pregnant. You'd be surprised how many people think I am whenever I say I've got news (I know I am). I subbed for a first grade class today. They're a repeat, which is always easier, and I'm SO glad that none of them called me "Mommy" today. It was cute the very first time it happened (when I was doing volunteer work during college). It has progressively become more creepy each time it happens. I had a sixth grader do it once. That was just plain WRONG. A twelve year that is your equal in height should NEVER EVER mistake you for "mommy." EVER. They were cute, but it's exhausting to have to show them how to do everything. The worst, though, is the tattling. "Oooh! I'm telling!" is enough to make me cringe and shudder in disgust. I need a some sort of threatening or witty sign to detour kids from tattling. Where/when do they develop this annoying habit? I mean, these are little kids that are TRYING to cause another little pain by getting them in trouble. Seriously? How do they come up with the idea that it's ok to do that? I think Hobbes was right: people have to learn and try to be decent.

Also today, at the same school, no less, I was privy to a brief conversation being held behind my back about my outfit. It wasn't anything bad, actually these two other teachers were remarking how cute I looked. I accepted the unintended compliment with a grain of salt, though, as I next heard a teacher say. "but I would NEVER wear that to work! I mean, it's ridiculous!" I'm a smart girl; I know she wasn't saying that I looked ridiculous. She was pointing out the fact that she knew I was working in a first grade classroom. Would any of you be surprised if I told you that this other teacher wears 80's-style-mom-jeans, white Reeboks, and a shirt that looks like it cam from the bottom of Wal-Mart's Bargain Bin, on a regular basis? With no make up? Nothing done to her hair, other than color the gray? I didn't think so. I know Adrienne already had this woman pictured as soon as she started reading this paragraph. ::sigh:: All I can do is ignore it and hope more people think like I do in the future by leading by example.

 Oh! And now that we FINALLY have TV again, I've rediscovered all of my favorite after-work programming! Here's a short list:
- The People's Court {I looooooooove it! Judge Milian is my hero!}
- Property Virgins
- Ancient Aliens {This show is DA BOMB!{I can't believe I just typed that!!} Watch it if you care anything for aliens, ancient culture, or religion.}
- I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant {You'll never forget your birth control again!}
- What Not To Wear {Show me some style love, Stacey and Clinton!}

New Learnings
* I'll get back to you on that one. I can't recall any new lessons I've learned recently. My brain is fried and I have an itch to make some corn pudding.