When I started Jr. High, I began a ritual that I continued until I graduated. I began class by walking in, picking up a piece of chalk and writing, “education is a farce,” on the black board. The teacher would have to begin the class by erasing what I had written.
Not a single teacher ever took me on. We did not talk about it. We did not debate it. It was written by me. Erased by the teacher. Continue reading
This would be funny if I had not raised this very argument in my own defense. It seemed like a good idea at the time, deflect the attention away from my laziness to the inappropriate language choices of the adults, underling that the comment was at best, confusing and at it’s worse insulting. Of course, had I taken the time to fully understand the seriousness of the situation, as in, one of the parental units in question was holding a wooden spoon at the time and the other had a belt holding up his pants, I might have considered other options as more viable at that moment.
I didn’t, and hence, while I appreciate the effort of this humour, I am still feeling a little sensitive about what turned out to be a FREAKING NIGHTMARE.
I used this line every time I was out on public with my children. That and turning your head and looking at other women in the store when they simultaneously scream out your name and announce that one of them just messed their pants in Aisle 4.
I like this method … everyone on … let’s go … I mean the kids either hold on or they don’t. These kids won’t be complaining about nothing to do on the trip. Holding on for dear life tends to give you a real unique perspective that often precludes boredom.
As long as everyone listening is drinking too … it’s all good.
I would be ashamed to have any child I was raising was talking to someone about their non custodial parent and tell them that they hate their “mommy” or “daddy.” I don’t understand why some parents then stand there beaming at the child like they have just earned an “A” on some test. My heart would break if my child were to tell other people that their “mommy” or “daddy” doesn’t love them. I would NEVER put my child in that kind of position or EVER let them believe that, no matter what the circumstances. Continue reading
I love the process of creativity. To me it is the life force.
In everything I do, I look for how to approach it creatively. How do I engage myself into the process so that it becomes part of me, so that I take ownership of my part and bring part of myself to this? When I am engaged in something creatively, the process becomes like breathing and I am alive and I am learning.
I cannot learn in a static environment of sitting in a desk and reading or listening. I have to do. I have to make mistakes, and solve them, and start again and find a different way. Everything I have ever learned of any lasting value in my life has engaged my creativity. Continue reading
I was so needing some new material and you know it really is magical how you think out in the universe (as opposed to those times when I am out of the universe) about needing some new material and voila … a Qantas plane flies over and drops you your very own teenager. Continue reading
After the drama of this morning Alexandria and I are going to become Nature Cops.
We are going to sew uniforms and get taser guns.
We will save the birds and the lizards and anything cute and furry. She will handle snakes and I will wave at her from under my bed while she does. Neither one of us really care about the spiders. They can fend for themselves. Continue reading