A Fairly-True Fairy Tale, part 1

Once upon a time there was a Princess who moved from the far away empire of Atlanta to the mountain realm of Denver. This realm had strange things like hockey games, snow in the fall, winter, AND spring, and lots of people who liked to hike, boat, and camp outside. The Princess missed her family and friends back in her old Atlanta realm. She missed the delicious food, the friendly farmer’s markets, and the mildly warm winters. However, the princess was lonely. Any prince who came her way seemed to be horribly broken. These princes were judgmental, uneducated, or lazy. They were broke, cheap, or both. They were princes who’d made terrible choices for their kingdoms, and therefore weren’t good enough to join forces with the princess.

The Princess’s colleague princess, the Lady Denisse, from a far country where they had mountains and cities and spoke Spanish, called Peru, advised the princess. She’d too had a long journey to finding her prince, and it took her across the globe and back to have found her prince Jeff many years before. She advised the princess, “Quit going out with the dwarfs, and wait for your prince.” It was good advice that the princess took to heart. 

The Princess went home to Atlanta in the winter season, where there was very little snow and a fresh baby niece Princess named Stella who’d just been born. She realized how much she missed having people to laugh with and to be herself around. You see, some princesses are very proper and do things a certain way, but this Princess was a little different. She carved her own path and played her own music to dance to. Apparently, the princes in the realm of Denver were looking for the boring princesses. She was sad as she returned to the Denver kingdom, driving a new-to-her Suzuki steed across the nation with her dear friend, the artist Slemonade and her long-missed sidekick, Petey Bella. 

You may know this, but every princess needs an animal sidekick (think of every princess you know!) and several dear friends and confidantes. The princess had a dear friend, Princess Al, who wore glass slippers and ran around castles very fast, pushing her little prince in a stroller. Princess Al was someone who the Princess really looked up to and she began running around the Denver realm too. Something about running, while miles and miles apart, made the athletic princesses feel closer. This Princess’s dear friends were all back in the Southern empire, so it was imperative that the Princess spoke with them via phone and text and facebook and gchat much of the time. All this communicating did keep her buried in devices…computer, ipod, smartphone, etc., but she still went to hike in the beautiful mountains surrounding the realm as often as she could. Her father, the old (but not that old) king even bought her a National Park pass so that she could go up to the Rocky Mountains whenever she wanted. 

One day, the Princess met a Prince at a comedy club in downtown Denver. They each brought their own steeds, because he came from a neighboring territory called Westminster, but truly, he was a gentleman from an either farther away dominion called Wisconsin. It was a strange land where the knights and gentlepeople hunted deer and fished for fish and had manners, but also had accents similar to those from their neighbor, Canada. The Princess and the Prince had a delightful time that night—they had drinks at an unsavory bar in Cap Hill, then watched the improv (what silly jesters there are in the world), and shared fried potatoes and drinks at a nearby tavern. Did the Princess dare wonder if this prince would be worth her time?

The Princess and the Prince had another encounter, a late one with magic pictures on a dark screen…a nostalgic cinematic experience at the Esquire Theater of “The Muppets Take Manhattan.” The Prince and the Princess shared a bottle of good Lambrusco and also shared many hours of conversation. The princess felt safe and open, like she could tell the prince anything. In the early hours of the next morning, the prince left his glass on the counter and departed from her castle. It was very sweet and pure. Maybe a week later, they enjoyed pizza at the magical Tony P’s. They shared a kiss on a windy sidewalk…which, while innocent, left both of their heads spinning. 

Later that month, the prince invited the Princess to a spectacle of a Rockies baseball game. The Princess didn’t particularly care about sports, but she enjoyed a crowd and the live action of the sport. The two walked to the downtown 16^th Street Mall area—an area people who visit Denver like to see, but the princess had not yet been to. The two had delicious food and fancy drinks at the Rialto café—another Denver fixture. They again, enjoyed conversing and each other’s company and laughing at the spectacle that a city can bring. The prince even blushed when a knave spoke to them and told them how beautiful the princess was. The Princess’s tummy was filling with butterflies, the more she spent time with him.

Prom as a 29-year-old, Part 2

 

See my previous post for a more detailed description of my mind's eye memories of prom as a chaperone. Let me know if you want to read the down-and-dirty version of Prom madness on my Teaching Tumblr. :)

My students call me Miss G. My supervisor calls me Miss G. My colleagues call me just G. The kids who are being smartasses call me G-Money or G-Baby. This is a conversation with one of said smartasses.

My date and I were waiting at some tables outside—semi-chaperoning, mainly staying out of the blaring bass and crowds. A few students trickled through to say check out the scenery outside and ended up saying hello as well. 

(To be clear, my students know I’m single. I didn’t promise them I was attending the prom—in fact I mentioned that I probably wouldn’t go unless my guy went.)

One of my smartass boys—he is polite, but sarcastic as all hell (I call him Slim)—did the very suave head nod and commented, “Looking beautiful, Miss G. As expected!” and leaned in for a hug. He whispered in my ear, “I got this, Miss G.” and winked at me. 

My date stood up to shake Slim’s outstretched hand, when he introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Tyler. Ummmmm, Mr. G?” 

*                  *                *

So, yeah, Slim, “You got this.” I’m laughing and shaking my head…because let’s see, no matter how much feminism I’ve shoved down my kids’ throats, I still don’t think I’d ever be feminist enough to have my man take my last name, er, well, last initial.

Signing off...G-baby!

Prom as a 29-year-old, part 1

I mentioned on facebook that my most creative, unique, interesting girl had asked my smartest, most polite, genuine boy to the prom and how adorable of a couple I thought they’d make. (At least for prom. I don’t want any of them ACTUALLY dating until they’re like my age, helloh!)

Well, last weekend was the prom, dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn.  It was a big to-do for the kids with a lot of absenteeism in order to be properly coiffed, manicured, and made-up. There were limos and hotel rooms rented and hundreds into the thousands of dollars spent on the weekend. It was eye-opening to me to see kids who cannot/will not spend $15 on an AP study guide spend so many bones on a mere few hours of “enchantment.” Academic hrrmph.

I’m not sure how many pictures I will post—I will check my camera and update this post—but I tend to keep my students off of my social media for privacy purposes. Trust me when I say that there were beautiful gowns and fancy tuxedos. The bead work, the chiffon, the tulle, the mile-high-heels were something to behold. There was a red carpet and everything for their entrance. 

A few moments: one of my very unique (talk about marching to her own drum) and old-soul students was more or less dressed as Marilyn Monroe. She had the classic halter dress (but it was in red) with the mini-pleats of the skirt and elbow-length white gloves on. She looked breathtaking. 

My super-genius-kid-I’d-hang-out-with-in-real-life boy student (who's obsessed with Soviet Russia, so he rolled my eyes when I introduced him as a Communist) attended prom with another smart friend and their outfits were tastefully coordinated—he in a seafoam team vest and tie with her in an aqua-colored gown. They seemed to move as a group of (nerdy) friends and thoroughly enjoy each other’s company. That was sweet to see.

The deliciously awkward couples? Ah yes, the ones who’d broken up this week or in the past few days, but still had coordinated dresses, tuxes, and corsages..the tension was palpable between some of them. Another awkward thing? Hipster skinny pants with tux jackets. Weird, dudes. It looks weird.

I have a funny one and a sweet story to mention—and I hope it doesn’t violate too much of my date’s privacy to mention this one—but I’ll go with it. My date wasn’t very excited about attending the prom, for, well, obvious reasons. When one doesn’t work with the 17-19 year-old set, who wants to spend a Friday evening with them? He was a good sport and agreed to go and snap any pictures I wanted with “my kids” and listen to all the ridiculous inside stories I had to say about any of my little monsters.

So my date was a little perplexed about what to wear, but I knew he had some dress clothes hanging in his closet—and he (as the kids would say) TURNED UP! in excellent fashion. He wore a beautiful burgundy/purple shirt (it complimented my red party dress!), tailored jacket, black slacks, and suspenders—but not really suspenders—they’re called braces. I’m not so up on my fancy-pants-men’s fashion words to know that—but when the suspenders don’t clip on, but in fact, attach to the loop inside the expensive dress pants—then, they’re called braces. 

I swear there’s a reason I’m saying all that.

So we had basically just arrived at the lobby of the hotel and made our way into the ballroom when the polite, genuine boy found me. He hugged me, complimented me-- told me I looked great and put his hand out to introduce himself to my date. My student is a very charismatic kid, yet he’s also very insightful, so he knew that I wasn’t sure if I was going to prom if my date hadn’t wanted to go.  He was wearing a pretty complicated rented tux to match his date’s black on white gown—so he had the white and black shoes, the stylish black shirt with the white bow tie and vest, and the black jacket with the white silk handkerchief in the pocket. He looked sharp! (And it was probably the fanciest thing he’s ever worn in his life.) It was very mature and very grown up of him to offer the handshake and name first--my date dutifully introduced himself—it was very mature and manly of both of them.

(Granted, my date is an adult who works in a professional field, so handshakes and polite introductions are the norm, for him. The sweet part was how mature and grown-up my little baby 17-year-old in fancy clothes was being. I expected nothing less.)

 

The music was so incredibly loud in the ballroom—so you couldn’t hear anyone unless you were shouting in their ear—and it was also pretty crowded. My student was about ready to walk off and go back to dancing, but then he paused. In this sweet moment of, I can’t even think of a descriptor, naivety, my student (who is a tall, handsome kid in a very fancy tux)—opened his tux jacket, shoved his vest to the side, and pointed at his suspender (brace, eh?) and then pointed to my date’s. It was such an “aww” moment of, “You’re my teacher’s date and I really respect her and want her to be impressed by me, and look, look, man, we have the same thing on!!”

·        Maybe you had to be there. But it was sweet.

·         

·        The other moment was less poignant and more comical—by a lot.

·           

Putting the attitude in gratitude

I jotted down some notes about this—which should be a great way of starting the pre-writing process, except for me, I’m a bit of a (as my friend Christy would say) one-draft-wonder. I write to have catharsis—I write to release—I write to share—I write to maybe enlighten, and very possibly entertain. If I write it down in my journal or notebook, I basically have released it. It’s a different sort of release than typing and/or blogging, but it’s been set free from the dizzying confines of my mind and is therefore somehow laid to rest. When I draft an outline, that’s usually as far as it goes.

I think I was kicking around ideas for this as a pro-con list. I like to make my pro-con lists when I’m in a euphoric mood—that way, when I look back over them later, if I should happen to be in a bad mood, it still makes me happy that I have so many darn pros in my life! Who can argue with that?

Lemme start with the bad…but I didn’t write it in this order. It was hard to think of the bad stuff.

The cons:

HOME: My home is a shitty townhome. I have a roommate and I’m almost 30. That is stupid. Then again, when you have a roommate, it’s kind of like having a sister who’s always there—we talk, cook, walk, and hang out a good amount of time. Eh, move it to the pro side.

WORK: I have a crappy job that I 80% loathe. Despite the colleagues I like, there are a couple of MCB (see my teaching blog for more explanation), disappointing administrators, a colleague who should have been fired outright for all her actions (in other words, someone who leads by negative example), and piles of kids who seriously need some rules in their lives. It sucks to be demoralized, treated misogynistically, and overworked on a daily basis; working for this paycheck has some serious drawbacks.

PET: My Sweetie Petey-Bella Boo is quite the leash aggressor. She pulls really hard when there’s another dog around and I haven’t tried a dog park in years with her. That’s tough, because I’d like her to be more social, but then again, she started life in a really rough way, so I’m more than happy with how awesome she is.

LOVE LIFE: Hah. No such thing.

Pros:

HOME: I live in a home surrounded by my comfy bed, cute clothes, fancy-smelling candles, interesting books, pretty art, fancy cooking appliances and dishes, and my clutter. Yes, the clutter is still a pro. It’s my clutter and I like it. It's in a good neighborhood that I enjoy being near places.

WORK: I go to a job that is honestly AWFUL, but I have made many, many shiny spots in the blackened and dreary kettle over the proverbial fire I work in. I have a really good work buddy (I’m ALWAYS friends with the art teacher!), a funny neighbor down the hall whom I admire, a curmudgeonly-young colleague, a grandfatherly-department chair, sister vegans, a sassy librarian, etc. My attitude about my shit-ass job has made it more than survivable for the past 7 months. Go me. The point is, I have a job, where others in the world do not. I’m grateful. 

I also do teach a ton of amazing, creative, kind, deep, unique, and intellectual kids who I feel incredibly blessed to see on a daily basis. What a weird society we live in—we send our children off to hang out with strangers for 8 hours a day. I feel fortunate to be that stranger to drop some knowledge on some of these kids. 

The art chick and I have a rather elaborate note-passing game going on.

PETEY-BELLA: I have a rescue American bulldog. She's 8 and had a tumor removed this summer, and she seems to be doing just fine. She’s my child with 4 legs and man, she is the bomb-diggity. She sleeps most of the time, she follows me around when I’m home, she never gets sick, she is insanely happy to eat her dog food and boring treats,  she barks at noisy bad things, and she snores when she’s doing all that sleeping. Honestly, she’s a cuddler. When I’m in bed working on things, she stays at the foot, but not underfoot (You catch what I did there?), but when it’s time for the human to do the sleeping, she repositions herself accordingly. How cool is that? She’s also learned (I could say I’ve taught her, but it’s more like conditioning) to pee and poop on command. I tell her “Go potty Petey,” and she squats where she is. It’s great. “Go poopy, Petey,” and “Go baffroom, Bella,” take a little more time, but generally the result is there. I’ve been jogging/running lately and she’s totally been game. She has about a mile to 1.5 in her before she’s totally a Petey puddle of pup on the ground and I have to drag her home, but still, that’s pretty good for a really lazy dog.

It's a rather difficult life sleeping on mounds of pillows and a duvet.

EXERCISE: Speaking of the 1.5 miles, I’ve been walk-jog-running nearly every day since Christmas break. It has been awesome for me. My stamina grows each day and my emotional well-being is, well- being awesome! I know doctors recommend exercise and stuff, but it’s hard to make happen with a busy schedule. I’m turning over a leaf towards daily movement and it feels good…like there are little fizzy muscle cheerleaders in my cells being like, “you’re awesome, work us out some more!” I enjoy seeing my neighborhood from the perspective of a walker and knowing which houses have which gardens, pets, and recycling. I'm mainly just nosy. Hah.

FOOD: I’ve also been doing pretty well about prepping food for going to work and cooking at night. I follow some food blogs and I’ve been applying what I’ve picked up from those venues. Don’t get me wrong, if I could afford to eat out every night of the week, I most certainly would. I like my dishes and all, but I like it better if someone else washes. I’ve started adding flax or sesame seeds to salad…sneaking in bits of protein and fiber where I can. I was doing a calorie counter app on my phone, and I haven’t kept up with it that much, but the idea of it keeps portion sizes in my head. It feels good to eat well.

MUSIC: I auditioned for and began singing with Emory U Chorus again this semester for the Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony—the Ode to Joy. It’s so cool to be in a room with 215 people, all watching the same skinny dude wave his arms around, while we read dots and dashes on a page in German, and make simultaneous noise pop out of our mouths at the same time. When the orchestra’s there, it’s going to be straight musical magic. Hellz yeah.

FRIENDSHIPS: I also started up a lady book club—not one I run for my students. That has its own place, but I wanted a chance to fellowship (femme-ship?) with ladies I didn’t work with and have a reason to read and talk about books—or a reason to get together and drink wine and not just talk about banal stuff. We had our first meeting, and there were only a few of us…but I felt good about it anyway. The euphoria of being with a group of women—that kinship—is strong and beautiful.

Checking out the Beltline art installation near Memorial Drive.

I’ve been spending some good times with good friends—ones I can count on my friend list (an actual one, not a list populated on facebook) for 5-10 years. Wow. It was pointed out to me how marvelous it is to have people in your life for that length of time—I hadn’t thought about it until I started taking stock. Good chats, good laughter, good food…good people in my life: I'm grateful for you.

Myself and one of aforementioned friends (Dan) at the High. The Klein Blue painting is particularly scary. If that Klein guy can get a color named after him, what else is he capable of??

LOVE LIFE: I have no boyfriend, but damn, I have got a lot of love in my life. Lately I’ve been noticing a lot of validation about my friends and how loyal, fun, and kind they are. My friends and family people know me, support me, and believe in me, even when I don’t have the courage to believe in myself. The right love in my life will come along when it’s supposed to, right now, the love I have is all the love I need.

BANGIN’ ASS BOD: Did I mention the working out and the eating more healthy thing? It has resulted in my body being AWESOME!!!! I have a scale that I left at my mom’s house, so I don’t really have any idea how much poundage I’ve retained/lost, but it doesn’t really matter. I look soooooo good naked!! I mean, I’m only getting naked for me and the shower (see love life, above), but still. It’s good to prance around in front of the mirror and be like, whoa, I look HAWT!

CONCLUSION: Bottom line, my attitude towards my life and body is pretty fiercely awesome. All that good attitude makes me have some pretty serious gratitude to nature, the universe, God, and all the other things that make it possible to have happiness, love, health, joy, and music in my world. That's worth singin' about.

Happy! Now go have a gratitude-attitude yourself. :)