Mac v. PC. v. Everyone (EXPLICIT)

Secret Secret Jayce

A lot of my friends make music.

I don't know why this is. Ever since High School (when I hung around with Random Fit), it seems that somewhere in my social circle there is always some sort of a musician, usually a band.

The thing with having friends in bands is that you lose your perspective of whether or not their music is any good. They're your friends, they're playing a show, you're of course going to go, and if you don't already, you will soon like their music.

But then sometimes, even when I do like their music, I can't quite keep up with everybody.

Beware the Other Head of Science, Desperately Obvious, The Boston Celtics, Secret Secret Dino Club....Can we talk about the interchangeable band members?

Every now and then I get to a local show which involves one or two of these. Once a year I get to check out most of my friends at MillFest, which is always a treat (and moreso if you don't have bronchitis).

So today, I'm subbing in this high school, and my favorite student comes in. It's not that he always does his work to the best of his ability, it is just that he is so darn friendly. Everytime I see him he shouts: "Ms. Armstrong!!!" and runs over to hug me.

The class he is in is a science class with a lab, and the second portion is reserved for finishing something that most of the students have already done. My Favorite Student has his iPod out. Many other students do too, and cellphones. I'm not asking them to put them away because there isn't really anything for them to do. I ask MFS what he's listening to. He names a band I've never heard of. He comes over to me and asks me to name who I know. He starts going through his list of artists on his iPod. I say a name aloud when I see someone I've heard. I know this is absolutely ridiculous, but it isn't as though he is distracted from the thing he is supposed to be doing.

"Antsy Pants"
"Biggie"
"Cat Power"
"I've heard of Metro Station, but only because you told me about them"
"Passion Pit"
"Secret Secret Dino Club"

WAIT. WAIT.

At the same time we begin yelling at each other and shouting "WAIT YOU KNOW JAYCE?"

I try to remember why I know Jayce outside of mutual-Albany-friends. That is probably the best summation.

MFS tells me that he started listening to Secret Secret Dino Club when he lived in New Jersey (is that why he's so nice?), and saw him perform a few times, and eventually met him.

Perhaps these sorts of interactions challenge my guise of authority.

So I come home and start googling Jayce (TWSS). Did you know Secret Secret Dino Club got signed?

Man, I've really not been keeping up with anything. It's not as if it were a secret secret.

Balance

Today I subbed for a high school science teacher. The task at hand was to watch Planet Earth and take 10 notes. No big deal.

A student who I've seen before walks in, looks at me, punches the air and shouts: "woo hoo!" He is soon gushing with comments about how happy he is that I am there, and questions aloud whether he should just give me twenty dollars. He is that happy.

I tell him I'd take the twenty, but he revokes his offer; that is his lunch money for the week.

Another student who I know a little better (he was in one of my classes when I was student teaching) walks in, grumbles something like "oh no, not you!" and turns around to walk out. When he walks back in again I tell him that I didn't realize he secretly hated me.

"I don't secretly hate you," he says.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you publicly hated me."

"It's not hate, just severe dislike."

I know some kids might hate me for being mean, but I've never had an issue with this kid. He was always pretty nice, a little weird, but no one I've "told off" "played" or "pwned."

If you were ever wondering how I keep my balanced sense of self, this is it.

WiisGiving

In which Emily discusses what she did on her Thanksgiving, which involved a lot of Wii-setting-up for her Father. Who wanted the Wii to bowl virtually. Even though he's been seriously bowling in real life for over 40 years.

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk.

Yesterday I went to the Farmers' Market. I wanted to get some pea shoots and milk. When I walked in, the people selling milk were right inside the door, and I felt funny walking up to them in that way, so I went and looked for pea shoots. It seems they were only available for a limited time. I went back to the dairy stand and exchanged them my empty glass bottle and $3.25 for a filled glass half-gallon of their whole milk- creamy stuff. I started walking towards another stand to double check about the pea shoots and as I walked, I went to drop the bottle of milk in my bag.

Only it didn't quite make it there.

It dropped on my toe. It dropped on the tiled floor. It smashed into a million pieces.

Milk everywhere. All the milk. Spilled. I wanted to cry, but you aren't supposed to cry in this situation.

When you're in grade school and someone drops a tray, the whole cafeteria always breaks out into an accusatory "OOoooooooo!"

When you're in the farmers' market and you break a milk bottle, the whole place breaks out into a sympathetic: "Oooohhh!"

I start walking towards CVS in a daze, thinking that maybe they'll have a mop. Before I get there I find myself explaining this to someone who informs me that a janitor has been called. An older gentleman suggests that we try picking up the large pieces of glass. After we get all the big chunks, I'm scraping milky tile with my hand to get the smaller chards. I know this is a stupid idea but I don't know what else to do with myself.

The man whose stand I spilled milk near has a large push broom and is standing and keeping the milk puddle away from his sacks of potatoes. After a while he tells me that a janitor is coming and that I can go. I've been standing next to him apologizing to people since I finished picking up the glass pieces.

I thought about running out of the place, but now my toe started to feel numb and running was no longer an option. I decided that I did need milk, and I was going to have to pay another $2 bottle deposit somewhere, so I might as well just go pay $5.25 for a new bottle. As I walked up to the milk stand, the girl walks out to me with a new half gallon of whole milk. I open my wallet to give her the $5.25 and she says "Just two, just the bottle deposit, that's fine....I feel your pain."

I thank her profusely and share that the pain is indeed in my pride but also in my foot.

Good business practices are good for your business.

Patronize Gumaer Farms. Their milk is delicious.

Whose v. Who's

USAGE A common written mistake is to confuse who's with whose. The form who's represents a contraction of ‘who is’ or ‘who has’: : who's going to feed the dog?;: I wonder who's left the light on again? The word whose is a possessive pronoun or adjective: : whose is this?;: whose turn is it?


Why hadn't I looked this up before? I wonder how many times I've screwed this up.

You're Giving Me a Headache.

I was substituting in this high school a few weeks ago, and a boy came up to me in the hall and said: "See, I don't even remember you!!"

If he hadn't said that, I wouldn't have recalled anything. As it stands, what I recall is pretty vague. I think I got mad at him for being disrespectful and pulled the "one day you'll remember this and feel so ashamed for what a jerk you were being" card.

Today I subbed in a middle school. I would have gotten 3 planning periods, which is unheard of, but they stuck me in this self-contained classroom with another teacher. I didn't really do anything the whole class, I sort of helped one or two kids. One kid who I wasn't helping kept walking over to the desk where I was sitting and trying to fight me.

"C'mon. Let's do this. Right here."

I would tell him very quietly and flatly to sit down.

"But I'M NOT! WHATCHU GON' DO ABOUT IT?"

"Ask you again. Please sit down."

Ay, yi, yi.

All the teachers take off because they can't handle the crazy before the holiday-ness, but I can't handle it either!