Streams of consciousness

If I could become a piece of music, I would be Clair de lune. Over and over and over again.

Feeling somewhat like a child

I can't seem to pinpoint the exact moment when my days at home became numbered, but it's here. There is nothing left to do but accept the reality, the one I've been so desperately trying to ignore, that is staring me in the face.

Summer is ending.

I hate everything.

I hate how I can get my hopes up for something, only to have them dashed by a lack of funds. I hate that the only reason I can't go visit my friends this summer is because I don't have the money to pay for stupid expensive plane tickets or stupid expensive gas. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alright, that's enough complaining for now.

From the mouths of babes

Today, when talking about the Beatles...

13-year-old boy: All I know is that they didn't really do anything after that Jay Leno guy died.

Me: ... John Lennon?

Boy: Oh yeah, him. Whatever his name was.


During a conversation about violent movies (you know, the ones they all love and watch over and over)...

8-year-old girl: Hey, did you ever see that movie where Jesus gets whooped real bad?

Me: You mean "The Passion"?

Girl: Yeah, yeah, that one. He got whooped reeeeeeeal bad.


Also, I have a gift for tie-dying and have made three friendship bracelets so far. I'm getting so good at it.

The greatest job in the world

So, I started my new job last week after getting home from California (which was excellent, by the way. Maybe I'll write about it sometime.) I'm working for Manor Township as a counselor for the Playground in the Parks program, which is more or less a day camp lasting eight weeks for local elementary kids. Why, you may ask, is it the greatest job in the world? It's like recess, only I get paid. Honestly, it can hardly be considered a job. By the end of summer, I'm expecting to be the master of most every sport/game you can remember playing as a child, because we play them all. Every day. I'm also going to be ridiculously tan and have an overabundance of handmade friendship bracelets, because that is what elementary girls do when they don't want to play sports. I still get paid when it rains and I don't have to go to work, and I get paid lunch breaks. Our first field trip is on Thursday. That's right, we go on field trips. Field trips! This job is so much better than any job I've ever had before. For real.

Being excited about going to work every day truly is a wonderful thing.

Anticipation

Seven hours. I will wake up, stumble to the van, fall asleep on the way to Baltimore (or be annoyed because one of my brothers will fall asleep on me), get on a plane, fly to California. This time tomorrow, I'll be on the other side of the country. I hope I get a window seat, but knowing how these things usually end up, my brother will probably abuse his "privilege" as youngest child and somehow con my mom into making me give him the window seat. C'est la vie.
I'm ready for this.
First stop, San Francisco.

A small piece of TiUA...

Ms. Haverstick:

Gabby is spreading
rumors and saying
that me and
Asia are saying
that Dashanique
is wearing tight
shirts because
she want to
show off her
stuff. And we
are getting sick
and tired of
it.


(from Erica, age ten, fourth grade)