Tag Archives: tracy

Everyone hates Christina

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Last year’s Super Bowl commercials were “offensive” to women, but this year’s commercials? SUCKED.

The Doritos ones were lame, and the first one they aired was just fucking creepy.

Apparently there were two Eminem commercials, but I only saw the one where he was CGI. I think it might have been for Brisk or some other soft drink. Either way, as I said on Twitter, the “I’m angry and I’m cool” routine is long past old. Then again, I may be biased because I can’t stand Eminem.

I didn’t see anything past the end of the second quarter, though, because I had no interest in watching the halftime show. We left Mike’s mom’s as soon as they went into the regular halftime show — you know, recapping and talking about everything we all just watched — and when we got home, the “big” show was over. I turned on my laptop and did everything but watch the game. I really like football, but I could care less about the Steelers or Packers. I found out who won through Twitter. (Thank you, Twitter, for saving my eyes the trouble of having to differentiate between all of the players wearing the same color pants.)

The big game did have one redeeming quality — this super adorable commercial:

I saw a video clip of the kid being interviewed, and he’s this six-year-old boy with longish blond hair and big brown eyes. My ovaries are screaming. It’s also not helping that Mike’s mom is pressuring us to give her the next grandchild.

WANT. BABY. NOOOW.

Anyway. The big debate this year isn’t even about the commercials; Christina Aguilera fucked up the National Anthem. Oops. Honestly, I didn’t even notice at the time. I was just reading Teresa’s post on the Super Bowl and she pointed it out, so I watched the clip of Christina singing it. Sure enough, she made a mistake. Everyone is buzzing about how she missed a verse. She did not, in fact, miss a verse. She instead missed the “ramparts” line

o’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming

and instead jumped back to the second line of the song, replacing “hailed” with “watched”:

oh so proudly we watched at the twilight’s last gleaming

and went into the big finish. (You know, bombs bursting in air and stuff. Daniel Tosh is going to have a field day with this one.)

If she had in fact missed an entire verse, I’d be able to see why people are freaking out. But, as you all should know, “Star Spangled Banner” has four verses, and we only sing one for our National Anthem.

I do agree with Teresa that it should not have happened — to a certain extent; it does happen, and I think Christina recovered nicely. She recovered so nicely that I didn’t even notice at the time. I actually thought that people were talking shit about her because she sounded kind of sick.

Oh well. At least she can actually sing. (I’m looking at you, Fergie.)

What did you think of the big game?

I'm thinking about…

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I keep thinking about the education field¹. The idea of getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go to work doesn’t thrill me, but I love, love, love the idea of working with kids. I also love the idea of making a difference.

Recently, I found out that my city’s community college is offering an Applied Behavior Analysis certificate program. The certificate opens a lot of doors in the psychology and education fields; you can apply it toward a Behavior Analyst Board Certification — which is available to those with Bachelors and Masters degrees — and can also apply it to Associates or Bachelors degree programs. I’m interested in it because, with the certificate and an Associates, you can get a job at a school as a paraprofessional (special needs student aid). (Since I already have an A.S., all I need is the ABA certificate.)

I’m starting to realize that I really want to work in education. I have doubts about it, but I think it’s stemming from the fact that I dropped out after half a semester; I think I’m afraid of failing again. Of course, at the moment I can’t afford to pursue my Bachelors, since I’m still paying off my student loans from that half semester. Sigh. However, this certificate program only requires four core courses and an internship, which means that by the time I’m done with this certificate, I’ll probably have paid off my student loan. I can get a job as an aid, and start on my Bachelors degree in Elementary Education (again), but part-time this time.

I think in the long run I want to be a reading specialist¹ — you know, the person who takes the kids who are having trouble with reading one-on-one during the day and helps them strengthen their skills. This requires a Masters degree, which is ironic because I never even wanted to get a Bachelors².

I know I said that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself now and that I felt lost, but I can’t stop thinking about being a teacher. Of course, I have plenty of time to think about it some more; I want to be positive that I want to do this, so that I can commit to it fully, so that I won’t run away scared if it’s too hard or if I get hit with a flareup. I was also — at the time — committed to helping my aunt, and wasn’t sure how I should go about things. Although my friend Tammy just told me about a job opening at her company for a marketing manager³, I think I’d rather find a retail job, since it would be more flexible while I’m getting the ABA certificate. However, the program director at NVCC told me that all of the courses will be offered in the evening to accommodate teachers and parents, so I could still take the job. I’m fairly certain that if I applied for it, I’d get it. (My self-esteem has gone back up in the last couple of days; I’ve been working really, really hard at building myself back up. If I wrote about this a couple of days ago, I’d be a lot less optimistic.)

I guess I really want to be sure about everything and have a solid plan set in my mind before I make a move. I’m going to think about that job opening, and I’m also going to think about the ABA certificate. Part of me wonders if I’m being too heavily influenced by what’s going on around me: my mom is back in school for her Masters, my sister is in her second semester at a four-year university, and Mike’s little brother is supposed to have an aid with him at all times but doesn’t, and is suffering for it. I also had a conversation on Christmas Day with Mike’s sister Britt’s boyfriend Tyson’s mom, Debbie. (What a long description! Maybe I should just start calling his family my in-laws, since we’re definitely getting married at some point anyway. I always thought that was silly if you’re not married yet, but I’m starting to think it’s a good idea if you know you will be.) Debbie is a special needs advocate, and has been working in the field for thirty years, I think she said. We were talking to Tracy (Mike’s mom) about Tony and how his PPT* was coming up. Debbie was giving Tracy some advice about Tony’s IEP*. Eventually Debbie and I got to talking about how I’d been going to school for Elementary Education, and how I still do this day think of all the kids — especially the ones who were struggling. Debbie said that she thought I was the type of person who needs to make a difference with my career.

It got me thinking about being a reading specialist. For one, I love reading. I also love working with kids, and I can’t stand the fact that there are so many kids who don’t get the help they need and deserve. I also thought long and hard about what Debbie said, and it’s true. Sure, I was helping businesses get their names out there when I was a web designer and social media marketing consultant, but I wasn’t making much of a difference. It’s true that I am the type of person who feels the need to reach out to others. I get that from my mom.

However, I’m very, very afraid of feeling like I’ve failed at anything right now. I was already afraid of failure before I lost my job. I am going to think about it some more — like I said, I’ve got until the summer — but I did really want to share these things with you guys.

¹I’ve wanted to write about my plans so, so many times, but the fear of changing my mind kept me from doing it. I wanted to be sure before I started talking about it.

²Hell, I didn’t even want to go to college period, because I hated high school and had no idea what I wanted to do.

³My main responsibilities would be marketing the company through social media, which happens to be my specialty. :D It’s also a full-time position, with vacation and a couple of other good benefits.

*PPT (planning and placement team) is a meeting where the parent(s), teachers, and other people involved in the child’s education get together to discuss the child’s IEP — individualized education plan. An IEP usually contains goals for the child that the team tries to accomplish by the end of the year, such as: “Improve child’s speech,” “improve child’s mobility with physical therapy,” “improve child’s reading level,” etc. (See? I learned a lot in that half semester at SCSU. I really, really enjoyed it. I was just so overwhelmed… I wish I’d stuck with it.)

Just another Thanksgiving list

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As much as I’ve been whining lately, I have a lot to be thankful for.

I have two sweet cats (even though they aren’t so sweet to each other). I have a printer that does print (even though it is mentally challenged), and a laptop, both of which I use to write stories. Which reminds me — I am thankful that I have the ability to put my thoughts and feelings and imagination into words.

I have an awesome sister who is my best friend, and an awesome best friend who is like a sister. I have a beautiful family: my mom, dad, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I have a boyfriend who fits me completely.

I also have a mouth, which can taste and chew and eat (pleasepleaseplease let 2:00 tomorrow come quickly)! I have a body that may be diseased, but does allow me — roadblocks and all — to do what I love , and I am so thankful for that.

I have a great group of friends, both online and offline. I have a job that, although it can be stressful, I love, and allows me to work from home, during my own hours. I am so thankful that I don’t have to get up early in the morning, that I can work in my pajamas or sweats, and take as many breaks as I want, so that I can rest when I need to.

I have a beautiful niece and beautiful godchildren.

I have so much good in my life that, when I lump it all together, it far outweighs the bad.

And that is what I’m most thankful for.

What are you thankful for?

Losing my history

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Today was Robbie’s birthday. He is 22 and is one of three of Mike’s siblings. He’s also a new daddy — someone PLEASE remind me to ask permission to post photos of Ciana — and has a wonderful girlfriend, Jaysa. We all went out tonight with a couple of his friends to the Chinese buffet in Watertown.

Sushi and beer, a girl's best friend

Sushi and beer, a girl's best friend

After over three years of dating Mike — we don’t subtract the two months we were broken up — I’d like to say that his family is pretty much my family. We’ve known for a while now that we are going to get married. He is my best, best friend, and the connection between us goes deeper than words can explain. If one of us is hurting, both of us are hurting. I don’t know about him, but I feel physically drawn to him, like a magnet to a refrigerator door (or to an old-school chalkboard, if you remember them).

Right now, we are both hurting.

That magnetic connection is still there, but we both are currently faced with the C word. I can no longer lean on him when I’m having a hard time accepting that Popi is sick and may not be with us much longer. Now, we must lean on each other, and I honestly don’t know how to be there for him when I am hurting so much myself.

You see, today we found out that there is a tumor in his mom’s brain. This strong, beautiful woman is like a second mother to me. No one could ever replace my own mother — I love you very, very much, Mommy — but Tracy is very dear to me. They — meaning the doctors — don’t know if it’s malignant or benign, so we have to wait and see, and anyone who knows me knows that I suck at the waiting game.

I thought for sure that maybe she had MS, and it was an MS lesion. I wanted it to be MS, so very badly, just like I wanted my grandfather to just have a damaged sciatic nerve. Instead, the C word looms.

And people act surprised when they discover I am smoking again.

With makeup and au natural hair

With makeup and au natural hair

Don’t get me wrong, things aren’t all bad. I went to my writers’ group this afternoon, although I was half an hour late because it started at 3:30 and I work at my PT job until 4. I didn’t bring anything with me, either, so it ended early because out of the four of us, only two people brought something in. One of us wasn’t even there to perfect her writing; she is an ESL student and joined the group so that she could hear more conversational English and learn from listening to us pick apart language in our writing. She’s Russian, so she is automatically cool in my book. I sometimes desperately wish I knew more about my Russian heritage, but thanks to my mom’s dad taking off when she was a teenager, we know next to nothing.

Anyway, she was very cool and for someone who claimed to not be a writer, she had quite a bit to offer to the conversation and lots of suggestions for Chick’s poem.

Even though I had nothing to bring in with me, I did spend almost two hours yesterday writing a chapter for Secondhand Mom. So far, it’s nine pages long and is probably going to be twice as long when I finish it. It might be so long that I’ll have to break it up into at least two separate chapters. Regardless, it felt really good to actually do some writing. I fell right back into pace, and am really loving my characters right now. I just wish that I had more time to spend on writing as opposed to working.

Yesterday was also my first appointment with my new psychologist, but that’s a whole other post.

I am trying really hard to see the good side of life right now, or else I’ll probably lose my mind. I often feel like my whole childhood, my history, is just being pulled right out from underneath me by some meaner, bigger kid. Life’s a bitch like that.

Anyway. How are YOU?

I want my job as a klutz back

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Mike had to house sit for his dad this weekend, and invited me to stay over with him so I could get some extra rest. It was really nice, because we got some alone time — although I probably spent more time sleeping — and it was sort of like a practice run for when we move in together. I’m always amazed at how neatly we fit together, with everything we do. I mean, we do have our moments and we have our differences of course, but for the most part it’s like we were made for each other. I’m seeing this more and more.

Saturday night we watched the playoffs game. I felt a little better and was looking forward to spending some actual awake time with him. We lost 24-17 to the Chargers and as soon as the game was over he downed some NyQuil and went to bed. (Yes, it was that serious.) I was kind of annoyed at first but I remembered how well he put up with me feeling yucky the night before and kept my mouth shut. (See how that works?)

The next morning we kind of lounged around. We went back to sleep after waking up and then went out to run some errands. After our Target run we stopped at Arby’s so he could get something to eat.

I waited for his food while he got his soda. As he pushed the lever for the Dr. Pepper, the Sprite and whatever was on the right of the Dr. Pepper came out. I couldn’t help but laugh, because it was something that would normally happen to me. I got him napkins, and after some trial and error he got his Dr. Pepper.

We sat down and he took a sip of his coffee. A few big drops spattered his face. I giggled again and handed him another napkin. “You’re stealing my thunder,” I said, pretending to pout.

After a few more errands we headed back to his house. I jumped on Twitter and started a live broadcast about Katy. Halfway through, I heard Mike yell my name. I stumbled into the bathroom to find him holding his hand under gushing water.

“What’s up?”

“Get me, get me–”

I blinked and suddenly each droplet of blood came into focus. His pants were splattered. The washcloth he had on his hand was soaked with crimson. Blood was all over the floor and was dripping into the sink. “What happened? What’d you do? What do you need?” I started digging through the linen closet, trying to find a clean washcloth. He showed me his hand, and on his thumb was a neat inch long cut.

“I cut myself with the knife,” he said.

“Doing what?” I couldn’t see him being, well, like me. I’m usually the one who does stupid shit like that.

“I was trying to get my brush open.” He had bought a new brush at Target, and it was tied to the cardboard packaging with zip ties.

About a half hour or so later, he was still bleeding and rapidly soaking the second washcloth. “You need stitches,” I said, examining the cut. It was only about an inch long, but it was wide open. You could see the blood gushing out and the guts. Tracy sat with us and the three of us looked at his options. I didn’t feel too good about him not going to the hospital. It clearly wasn’t going to stop bleeding anytime soon, and I didn’t think a butterfly would work.

I finally convinced him to go to the ER. By the time we stopped at the store for cigarettes and Gatorade, it was about six or so and he was still bleeding. He wouldn’t let me drive, and I kept thinking he was going to pass out and drive us into a rail and over a cliff. (I didn’t tell you my imagination is overactive?) We got to the hospital at 6:16 — I remember because he had to write down the time when he signed in — and didn’t get in to actually get stitched up until around 8:30. By the time we left it was almost ten. He got three stitches. We stopped at CVS for gauze and then went to McDonald’s for something to eat. (While we were waiting for paperwork, I started getting sick because the only thing I’d eaten all day was a bagel. I so should stop yelling at Sarcastica to eat if I’m not going to.)

We stopped by his dad’s so Mike could drop off the house key and then he dropped me off. I was kind of worried that he might cut his hand off this time without me around, but I talked to him earlier tonight and he is alive and well.

Meanwhile, I feel craptastic. I probably have an ear infection or maybe an infection in my throat. Blegh. I also bought the Covergirl Bare Minerals knockoff when we went to Target and it so isn’t the same. Too bad I can’t afford Bare Minerals. I think it’s like $50. Oh well. At least the Covergirl works a little.