Happy Valentine’s Day!

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My husband’s not-quite Barry White operatic tenor voice as he dressed this morning: “Love is in the air… Everywhere I look around… Love is in the air… Every sight and every sound…”

You don’t need to correct me and tell me Barry White didn’t do that song. The artist does sound like him, though, so there.

I have a new definition of “difficult” to add to the dictionary. Teaching 6th graders about editorial cartoons. First of all, they don’t understand caricature, so you have to explain what that is. Second, they don’t understand symbolism, so you have to explain that. Third, they don’t follow the news, so you have to explain that. They are looking at cartoons with people they can’t recognize and jokes they don’t get. I wanted to bang my head on the wall. The following is a real discussion we had about the following cartoon, recollected to the best of my memory from yesterday’s 6th grade Journalism class:

Me: “Okay, now look at this cartoon and compare it to the picture on the front page of the paper.”

Students: “It’s the same guy.”

Me: “Okay, now when we looked at that last cartoon about John Kerry, we talked about what Kerry and Bush each did during Vietnam. This cartoon says that we can prove George Bush served in the military because in 1972 the Alabama National Guard’s debt exploded and they invaded Mississippi.”

Students: Blank looks.

Me: “What are some things people are criticizing Bush for right now?”

Students: Blank looks.

Me: “Well, one thing is that our own national debt has exploded while Bush has become president.”

Student: [incredulous] “Who do we owe money to?”

Me: “Well, it is complicated, but basically to companies and banks and other countries.”

Students: “Why?”

Me: “The government is spending more money than they’re taking in, so they have to borrow.”

Student: “Why don’t we just print more money?”

Me: “Well, you have to have a certain amount. If you print too much money, it isn’t worth anything. If you don’t print enough, the value of the money is inflated. Anyway, let’s get back to the cartoon. Another thing Bush is criticized for is invading Iraq. We still can’t find the Weapons of Mass Destruction, and that’s why Bush said we should fight Iraq — to find those weapons and stop Saddam from using them. So if Bush is being criticized for these two things, what do you think this cartoon means?”

Students: Blank looks.

Me: “Think about it. If right now our national debt has exploded and Bush is accused of invading Iraq for no reason, and if in 1972 the Alabama National Guard’s debt exploded and they invaded Mississippi for no reason…”

Students: More blank looks.

Me: “Since these similar things happen each time Bush gets involved in something, it’s proof that he had a hand in both. It’s proof he served in the military. See? It’s a joke. The Alabama National Guard didn’t really have a debt…”

A hand shoots into the air.

Me: “Yes?”

Student: “So, they didn’t really invade Mississippi?”

Thunk. That’s the sound of me banging my head on the wall.

Anyway, reading Cranky Dragon’s latest entry made me finally want to join BookCrossing. I’ve been reading about her fun with it for a long time now, and was interested in the concept, but for some reason, just never clicked the link or really thought about it. I don’t know why. One Christmas, the local Barnes and Noble had one of those gift tag trees up — you know the ones. You are supposed to take a tag off the tree and buy a book for a needy child. I really don’t know how many books I bought that Christmas. I have often praised Chik-Fil-A to others, because they’re the only fast food restaurant I know of that often gives out books as prizes with kids’ meals. I know what happens to kids who grow up without any real books around the house. They struggle all through school. I have always been one to promote literacy at every turn. Why I didn’t join BookCrossing long ago, I can’t explain. But better late than never. And now you go join, and tell them I sent you.


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Compulsive Blogging?

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Tonight I go on a quest in search of Blue’s Clues valentines for Maggie. It is her first class valentine exchange. She goes to a wonderful daycare a few miles from my school. Actually, Dylan goes there, too. But they’re not exchanging valentines in the infant room, at least not to my knowledge.

My daycare has this spiffy feature that allows me to peek in on the kids: Parent Watch. I admit I don’t get the chance to peep at them as much as I’d like, but my grandparents in Colorado look in on them often, as does my mother. I think it is pretty cool that they can do that. If your daycare doesn’t do it, why not suggest it to them?

My students studied editorial cartoons today. I always forget how much they like that. Then, too, I always have one or two real artists in the bunch who throw everything they’ve got into creating cartoons. I bumped into one of those artists from a couple of quarters back this afternoon. My students must have told her I mentioned her in class, because she said she’d like to bring in some of the cartoons she did for me.

Some of their cartoons were very good.

I have some papers to grade, but I’m blogging. I am not a good person.

Jess and Rajni said I should post my fiction here. Maybe I will. I don’t write as much as my husband. I don’t know why. I have a few ideas rattling around in my head. Rajni, I did post a chapter or two of my book on my old diary. I am in the process of compiling the whole thing into an e-book. I wish I had the time to look for an agent.

I am working on a photo album. Okay, I admit I’m having a bout with OCD right now, exacerbated by some recent poo flung by… her. Wish I didn’t have OCD and could figure out how to let it go instead of ruminating on it, picking it apart over and over. I take a drug called Luvox that is effective for OCD. They used to have a website, but it doesn’t appear to exist anymore. The section on their site for kids and teens with OCD was called “Club OCD! for Kids.” I wish that was a joke. Damned compulsions are interfering with my work this week, and it has to stop, or I’ll fall further behind.

Speaking of OCD, I think Michael Jackson has a rather heinous case of it, coupled with a co-morbid of Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Why else would he constantly be tweaking his face like that? He’s getting to be as eccentric as Howard Hughes, who is a poster child for OCD if ever there was one. I wonder if Michael Jackson has ever officially been diagnosed? I think I’ll add him to my list of famous people with OCD anyway, because if he ain’t got it, I don’t know who has.


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Exposurecize

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My husband has opera rehearsal tonight. I usually find some way to pass the time with the kids until it ends. Since Sarah and I are reading the Harry Potter series, I usually just read with them. But I forgot the book at home this morning. I don’t know if I will be able to find a copy in the library. Reading makes the time pass so much more quickly.

So there is a new exercise phenomenon. The S Factor. Strip workouts. The creator has stripper poles in her house. I’m on the fence on this one. On the one hand, it does seem sort of empowering and feminine, and it encourages women to feel sexy, which is a good thing. But mousy little Dana? Nah, I don’t see it in my future. I wouldn’t have the cajones to try it.

One of the strip joints in Atlanta — in fact, the premiere strip joint — offers classes in stripping. I don’t know if I’d call it a workout. Yeah, my middle school journalism class was fun the day that was in the paper.

And while we’re talking about exposing yourself…

What? He didn’t explain he was trying out strip aerobics?


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Ghosts

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This morning, the radio station I listen to, Z-93 in Atlanta, was just full of interesting content, some of which I plan to write about later.

They played the old Eagles’ song “Seven Bridges Road.” I apologize for the pop-ups, though they aren’t mine, if you follow the link. I hate pop-ups, and I try not to link to sites that use them. Anyway, I was trying to find information on the real Seven Bridges Road here in Georgia, but I only found one measly site. It’s an interesting story. According to Shadowlands Haunted Places Index for Georgia, the real Seven Bridges road is haunted:

On the northern side of Berry College [Rome, Georgia], there is a road – CCC Road; when you go west, if you count the small bridges as you go over them, there are seven. Turn around, count them on the way out; there are only six. At the west end of the road are the ruins of an old church and cemetery called Mountain Springs Church. You can hear music coming from the church at night along with crying and footsteps in the cemetery.

I read somewhere once that J.D. Souther went to Berry College, and that was where he got the idea for the song.

We are all haunted by stories from the past. Do you know a good, true ghost story? Share it with me.


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Blogging

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I had to give up on Angela’s Ashes. It felt bad to give up. It won the Pulitzer Prize. But it sat there, unread, because every time I picked it up, I said, “Well this is just damned depressing. His sister died, and she has the same name as my daughter. The twins are going to die. That will be awful to read. I don’t want to do it today.” I am not saying it wasn’t good. I just can’t do it.

I picked up our copy of We’ve Got Blog: How Weblogs are Changing our Culture and started thumbing through it again. I find parts of it interesting. There is such a dichotomy in the world of blogging/journaling. Some people hate, detest, and despise the online journal, feeling that we should go back to compilations of links with some commentary. Others feel that journaling and reading about others’ lives is more interesting. I fall into the latter category. I like cool links, but most of the time, unless it looks really intriguing, I don’t leave a blogger’s/diarist’s site to explore that link. That is just me, though. I was reading through the commentary on “A-List Bloggers” like Meg and Jason Kottke. The thing I found most intriguing was that they met and and embarked on a relationship. I immediately went to Meg’s blog today to see if there was any hint of it still going on. But she’s doesn’t really dish the personal stuff I guess.

I like writing online. Calling it blogging, journaling, whatever. It feels good to get some stuff out there, and I like for people to read what I write. I admit I don’t care as much as I did at one time, or I’d not have left my old host. I was getting right around 100 hits a day there. Most of it was from Googlers looking for porn, but they were visiting anyway.

One of my friends has been harassed away from her diary — maybe even an Internet presence altogether — by a couple of trolls who disagreed with something she said and began attacking her in a forum, then harassing her over the phone. I sincerely hope she presses charges, takes it up with the diary host, and gets her phone number changed. I hope she doesn’t stay away. I like her, and I really enjoyed what she wrote. But I sure understand her reasons for leaving.

I came here and left my old host for reasons of my own. I really love the world of blogging, journaling, whatever, but I really wish it didn’t have this dark side that enabled people to prey on others.

Speaking of moving, my husband has set up shop at a new journal, so now I can link him without fear of a certain troll of my own. He’s a great writer. Enjoy.

One of the things that struck me about Meg’s blog was it’s simplicity. Not a lot there, really, not even link-wise. I guess I like something I can sink my teeth into, writing-wise, and her blog is a really light snack. What would you like to see in this blog?


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These Kids Today

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Oh my God.

Tell me the truth. Those of us over, say 25. Would it EVER, EVER have occurred to you to do something like this at school? What the hell is going on?

I will tell you the truth. When I first started keeping a journal online, I noticed that there were a lot of teenagers journaling or blogging. And a lot of them talked about sex. I can’t read about kids having sex. It makes my skin crawl. Never mind the fact that I did it too. It makes my skin crawl to remember that, to be honest. We’re bombarded with sex from every side, and I can remember feeling intensely curious about what the fuss could possibly be about. But at that age, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to tape myself having sex, or to share my sexual adventures with every creep in the world on the Internet (of course, there was no Internet for the masses back then, but I digress).

What’s behind this trend? Can we truly just point the finger at the Internet and say that the availability of sexual information is much greater? I mean, we all know by know how to find pornography, erotica, even how-to techniques online, and most of the time, we don’t need to prove our ages beyond the “we’re keeping you honest by making you click a button saying you’re over 18” type of proof.

Filters don’t even get it all. Someone at my school was able to look at a picture of a, um, well, festively decorated female crotch. And I know we have filters on our computers, because I was never able to read my former journal from work.

I’m not innocent here. I shared some pretty, let’s say personal adventures in my old journal. I don’t plan to do that here. I feel it was a mistake. But I did it as a grown woman in my thirties. Not a teenage girl.

I don’t think their parents can possibly know they’re doing things like this. And why don’t they? I know everything my daughter does on the computer. It isn’t hard to keep tabs on your children, folks. And it isn’t hard to teach them it isn’t a good idea to make sex tapes at school.

I started to wonder why they were all given permission be out of class and how long they were all gone. I wouldn’t think it would be a short period of time, considering. But I can’t point fingers at their teachers without knowing some more facts. How did they manage to get a camera in school?

Why are we teaching our girls nowadays that in order to be accepted, they must be sexually promiscuous? We even have people grabbing pejoratives like “slut” and “whore” and translating them into badges of some sick, twisted kind of honor. Since when is it a point of pride that you don’t care who you have sex with? Since when does being sexually adventurous at a young age make you somehow cooler than the other kids? It is, in my opinion, a disturbing trend that is making victims of our teenagers and opening them up to dangers they can’t possibly imagine.


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Color Me Naive

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Well, I just feel stupid. I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to one of my online friends. Another diarist ran her off her site. I won’t divulge all the details, because I’m not sure she’d want me to, but the basics are that this other person made it her personal agenda to constantly poke fun at my friend — everything from her appearance to her family. And she did it in a public forum with lots of her cronies cheering her on and joining in. The idea of that just appalled me. So I was doing some sleuthing and finally decided to check out a forum run by someone whose diary I’ve been reading for about two years or so. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I’m not sure that this person was involved in flaming my friend, but she sure as hell does her share in her own forum. What I read made me sick. I couldn’t believe someone could be that small and mean-spirited to people they haven’t met.

I realize I’m being cryptic here, and I apologize. I obviously wouldn’t like to be a target of theirs — the members of this forum, that is. I am hoping that they do not locate my URL, see this post, and unleash — any time someone criticizes them, they rip the person a new one.

It’s the ugliest side of the Internet. People who hide behind computer screens and insult people they don’t even know. I just can’t understand that behavior. Obviously, I can’t read the person anymore. I had thought she was nice enough. I didn’t see that side of her in her journal. Hm.

Well, that said, Rajni says an FAQ would be all right. But no one asks me questions frequently. Want to ask me something?


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Overheard

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Some students were passing my classroom during my planning. I was working on grades on my computer, and they didn’t realize I was in there (you can’t see me when I sit behind my computer). I heard one say to the other, “You have Ms. Huff?”

“Yeah.”

“For Journalism?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard she’s mean.”

Good. That’s the sort of reputation you want to have as a middle school teacher. I, on the other hand, think I’m way too nice.

I can only say thank God it’s Friday at last. I am so tired. Our whole house being sick has taken its toll. Plus, I didn’t stay home from work (staying home when you’re a teacher only means more work — it certainly doesn’t help me relax to think of how awful the kids might be behaving).

I had a very profound idea for writing this morning and promptly forgot it.

Did I say I was tired? I did? Oh. Well. I am.

I am also extremely dull today.

When we were driving home this evening, I was watching the trees speeding by my window. Tall, black, spindly pines, all huddled closely together, drying in the gray late afternoon light. And I thought to myself that I could go into those trees, like Thoreau, and just live apart from society for a while. Well, not so much like Thoreau. After all, he went to town a whole lot, and he had more help than he lets on. But you get the idea. I’m not one for roughing it, so I probably wouldn’t last. But sometimes, it seems like it would be great to get away from bills, cars, city lights, and the fast pace of life and just be in the woods. I used to feel God in the woods. Now I’m scared of the Blair Witch.


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Thou Shalt Not Park Here

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Ugh. We all have colds at our house. The small children have streaming noses (so does Dad). We’re all whining, coughing, and spewing snot. Stay far away from us. I’ve had a sinus headache for a couple of days. I’m just exhausted, but I am supposed to “monitor” a basketball game tonight. I am completely disinterested in going.

I just feel like I have no time to do anything. I wanted to write requests to some area private schools and public school systems for teaching applications, but I haven’t had time.

My husband was hired on the spot as a tenor soloist at a presbyterian church in one of Atlanta’s northern suburbs. Pays well. And they have a children’s classroom that they let us use while we waited for him at practice. Dylan is crawling very well now. Maggie knocked him down a couple of times (on purpose). But they had fun. Best of all, you know the congregation has a sense of humor when the “No Parking” signs read “Thou Shalt Not Park Here.”

That said, I am worried about Sarah. She seems extremely socially inept. She is not aware of others and doesn’t seem to worry what they might think. I am afraid middle school will be torture for her. She played with the kids last night. I am grateful that she doesn’t think she’s too cool for them and that she likes to play with them. It worries me that she plays like them. What I mean is that they had two little plastic rocking horses. And she got on one and rode it. It is probably unsuitable for anyone over the age of four to play with, and Sarah is 10. She climbs, skips, hops, and crawls at inappropriate times. She has few friends, but it doesn’t bother her. It’s like she’s in her own little world. She’s bright. She often uses words in everyday speech that I’m not sure my middle school students know. But she’s just… immature. I don’t want her to go through the pain of being teased. Maybe she’ll be okay. Guess I’m just being a “mom.”


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Groundhog Day

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Happy Imbolc, my pagan friends. Or St. Brigid’s Day. What on earth is this holiday about, anyway?

Well, it is officially Black History Month. One of the people I admire most in the world is Martin Luther King, Jr.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

Langston Hughes wrote one of the most profound poems I’ve ever read:

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
Like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

What a wealth of culture; what amazing contributions to humanity.

And on a completely unrelated topic altogether, I have tried to look at journals located at my old host’s site. It appears to be down. To which I can’t help but say, in the fashion of Nelson on The Simpsons: “Ha, ha!”


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