now that i've figured it out i'll disappear forever

Remember that one time when some dude on the fourth floor randomly dragged me into a conversation about cruise ships, and I was horrendously awkward about the whole thing, and then was inadvertently possibly rude by leaving when he might have been in the middle of saying something? I met him again! He recognized me in the dark as the Cruise Ship Girl. (Or maybe that's all he ever talks about.) He said, "You just missed a cruise ship!" as I was coming in and he was going out. I definitely kept my cool and talked about the cruise ship that I'd seen a few days ago on a walk with Charlie, which prompted the neighbour to speculate on the correlation between cruise ship size and wealth of passenger. We definitively ended the conversation this time, then went our separate ways.

There is also my next-door neighbour, who I am always superbly awkward around; we have graduated to having two fully normal, non-painful conversations! (Except for one time when he mentioned that the house he is moving to has a suite for his mom who has early dementia, and I said, "Nice!" and as soon as he left I was worried that he thought I was a huge jerk and was saying nice to his mom having dementia, when in fact I was saying nice to that the house has a suite for her. But since we've had conversations since and he hasn't glared at me for being a horrible person who thinks it's nice to have dementia, I don't think he misconstrued what I was trying to say.)

Then just now I came in from Charlie playing with another neighbour's dog, and it came up in conversation with the neighbour that I was moving shortly, and he said he and his wife will miss me!

I'm kind of upset that I've figured out how to be a good neighbour and talk to strangers JUST AS I AM MOVING AWAY. Timing is not my strong suit.

foot of the bed is another world entirely

I cleaned my room today. For probably a good month, whenever I'd be done wearing something I'd just step out of it and leave it on the floor. Often when it came time to wear that thing again, I'd pull all the clothes out of my drawers looking for it until I found it in a heap where I left it previously, and then I could just re-step into it and pull it back up. I think that would be a pretty fantastic system if I had more floorspace than I do presently and also if nothing ever became wrinkly.

Anyway, as I was picking up every single item of clothing I own off the floor, I pinpointed the reason for the state of things. Charlie, my beloved dog, sleeps in a crate perched on a bedside table that sits right beside my bed. Like, picture my room thusly: there is a wall. Beside the wall is my bed. Beside my bed is my dresser. In front of my dresser and also beside my bed, like around where my face goes when I'm in bed, is my bedside table with Charlie on top. Right?

Okay. So today I was like, "Whoa. There is a bedside table in front of my dresser. That is fully why I leave all my clothes in little piles all over the floor." So I had a brilliant idea. How about I move the bedside table to the foot of my bed? Where it is no longer in the way? I was so excited about this.

But you guys. Charlie is not excited about this. He doesn't like being at the foot of my bed, I think because he can't stare at my face while he's falling asleep. All of his little breaths come out in tiny whines. Normally I like to have a quilt all bunched around my feet, but I put that on the floor because it obstructed his view of me.

I think it's going to interfere with me falling asleep, but it's kind of difficult to get upset with something that's sad because he can't gaze at you as he goes to sleep.

i wasn't using it anyway

This is Charlie's new thing. "Oh, hey, whatcha doing? Are you eating? Is that for me? Are you looking at something? Is there something else here besides me? Want to hold all my toys? Can I sit in your lap? Here, I'll sit in your lap. I KNOW! I'll sit in your face. You don't need your hands for eating/typing/etc., right? I'll just sit right here, on your hands. No, wait, I'll sit on your face. Is that food for me?"

There is something comforting about having a pet who wants to sit on your face.

run for the trees

Today I was nearly savagely murdered by a hoard of eagles because they wanted my sweet puppy for lunch.

Not really. But what actually happened was kind of creepy.

My attention was first drawn to the fact that large birds of prey enjoy feasting on small dogs in the wonderful romantic comedy, The Proposal. (Which was disappointingly filmed in Boston with a fake mountain backdrop, instead of in Alaska or Canada with a real mountain backdrop.) I didn't think much of it because at the time, the only dog in my life was an eighty-pound labradoodle who was not exactly in danger of being snatched by an eagle.

It didn't come up again until I brought Charlie home for the first time. We took him on walks around our neighbourhood, where there is a lot of forest, and consequently a lot of hawks.

"Keep him on a leash," my mother warned, "lest he be picked up by a hawk." So I did.

Then recently, while Charlie was playing with a small dog in front of my apartment, the owner of that dog commented on how he one time saw an eagle STAB A CAT and then wait for it to die, because the cat was too difficult to abscond with while among the living. I stared at the man in horror, because I dislike hearing stories in which predators are eerily clever. I like it when they are like the bad guys in cartoons: not too bright.

Which brings us back to today. It was a lovely day in Campbell River, so I decided to take Charlie to the beach. We walked merrily along, him playing with seaweed and me trying not to fall over all the rocks. Then I heard an eagle, and I looked around until I saw it sitting in the tree, with three of its pals. "Neat," I said to myself. "I've never seen that many eagles at a time."

Then I noticed another eagle in a tree not too far away, and I swear it was watching us. It watched us until it decided to join its brethren in the tree that was closer to us than its previous tree. "Cool," I said to myself. "It's like an eagle party."

THEN I noticed two eagles sitting on the beach by a stream, and I am 100% POSITIVE they were staring at us. I froze, while Charlie continued to play with his seaweed, oblivious to the giant, creepy birds that were watching him. At this point, I remembered how in The Proposal the bird wasn't scared of Sandra Bullock, and snatched her phone right out of her hands. Maybe, I realized, seven eagles wouldn't be afraid of me.

I was, admittedly, torn for a moment between seeing how close I could get to the two sitting on the ground, and relocating Charlie to the safety of the path, but obviously I ended up choosing the path. We continued our walk, and the two eagles continued to watch us, until I noticed ANOTHER EAGLE in the sky above us!

So we went back to the car and went home, leaving eight eagles to plot for the next time.

all the best dance parties end with jeans in the laundry

It is the end of a long, busy day. A good song shuffles onto my ipod, and weariness causes my legs to move in ways heretofore unknown to me. Step together, step, twirl, jump, step, twirl. Arms merely swaying at first, then up in the air and waving, twisting, swirling. Caution is thrown to the wind as I find myself dancing in my apartment. Charlie is bemused and intrigued, watching me move in a foreign way, and steps towards me with his tail wagging. Bending down, I swirl my arms around him, backing away as he follows me.

Two dancing fools, I scoop him up in my arms and spin around, moving my feet to the beat. Then I feel something warm on my leg.

"Are you peeing on me?" I demand of my dance partner. He struggles out of my arms and runs to the door.

He hadn't wanted to dance with me at all. Turns out he just really had to pee.

always room for cake

I'm reading my favourite book in the sunshine, and there's a dog sleeping at my feet. The only thing that could make this moment any better would be cake.

we're all reasonable except the dog

This is a typical day in room 207.

Miss W: Blah blah blah teaching blah fascinating information blah blah.

Students: BLAH BLAH TALKING OVER MISS W BLAH BLAH OUTRAGEOUS BEHAVIOUR.

Miss W: I will just wait for you.

Students: BLAH BLAH BLAH NOT LISTENING BLAH.

Miss W: (waiting)

Students: BLAH BLAH OBLIVIOUS BLAH BLAH.

Miss W: (describes consequences for behaviour.)

Students: WAH WAH WHAT DID WE DO WAH NOT FAIR WAH.

However, everyone was very reasonable today for some reason. Even though it was a work period for one of my classes and I HATE work periods because they are unstructured and nobody gets anything done, I was good at keeping them on task and they were good at staying on task. Also, I decided that instead of having 5 different types of consequences and being confusing, I would have ONE consequence that is super effective that I found by accident. I keep track of how much time they waste and that time is their detention. I think I have a new facial expression: it is called the WATCHING THE CLOCK face.

In dog-related news, Charlie has his first nemesis: a few days ago he got stuck in some hedges we walk past every day, and now he hates them. Now, every time we pass them he attacks them with his baby teeth and tries to tear them apart, and he seems quite satisfied with himself afterwards. They'll think twice before pulling a stunt like THAT again.

queen of the lunchtime dating scene

Since I went back to work after getting Charlie, I rush home every day at lunch to feed him and let him out and play with him a bit. Today when I returned after lunch, one of my students said thoughtfully, "I don't think you have a dog actually. I think you're going on dates."

It's nice to know they think I have a more exciting social life than I truly do.

chickens are really hard to hold

Regarding my last post, I found an image to illustrate my feelings on the matter:

Just in case you can't read it, it's from The Holiday when Kate Winslet discovers the boy she likes is actually engaged to someone else, and she tries to kill herself. Then she realizes that's a stupid thing to do, so she sticks her head out the window and slaps herself in the face. "Low point!" she says. "Low point."

Anyway, that was a low point for me. Yesterday and today went MUCH BETTER, which is surprising to me because on the weekends, which is when that post took place, I get to sleep in; on the week days I get up bright and early to take my little mister for a walk before I go to work.

Speaking of walks, I have met more people from my apartment building in the last week than I have in the entire seven months I've been here. For one thing I leave my apartment more than I used to, and for another thing a lot of people can't resist approaching a puppy. Also, I think it gives people a non-threatening way to interact - I don't know their names and they don't know mine, but they know Charlie's. I've met a lot of rough looking gentlemen who would have intimidated me before, but puppies generally have the same effect on everyone; even rough looking gentlemen. (Unless you have no soul. Then you are exempt from this.)

You know when you're walking by yourself and a car approaches, and you swear it's slowing down as it approaches you and you start freaking out and imaging that you are moments away from being kidnapped? That has happened to me SEVERAL times, except that instead of being in my imagination like usual it's actually legitimately a car slowing down as it approaches me, but instead of kidnapping me all they want to do is point and coo at my puppy.

I have a FOR REAL for real blister from exercise! I am so excited. It's because of all the walking I am doing. I am doing a TON of walking. All over the place! Besides meeting millions of people and being stopped in the middle of the street, I have also noticed that either one person smokes pot ALL THE TIME in my neighbourhood, or else there are a lot of people who smoke pot. But I guess that unless they are driving while high and run me over because they are too chill to notice me, pot is the least of most evils if someone in my neighbourhood is going to be on a drug.

Also I am going to have buns of steel when you see me next. Sometimes I feel my will to live seep out of me with every step I take up the GIANT HILL back to my apartment, but then I realize how dumb it would look to just stand in the middle of a hill like an idiot, so I press on. Plus, I have a little energizer bunny pulling me along. Then I tell myself, use that larger-than-average behind you have, and I propel myself onwards. Soon I will not be able to tell myself that my behind is larger than average, because I walk a million times a day now, up a billion hills. It's pretty fantastic.

One last thing: in Socials class today, one student wanted to go down to the office and pick up something his dad had dropped off. Naturally, every single other student wanted to help him carry it. One student peppered me with questions in his eagerness to get sent along. "What is it? Is it a table? A desk? A chicken? Chickens are really hard to hold."

Maybe you had to be there, but that last part just killed me. Oh, grade sevens. How I will miss you.

a prickly cactus, a barbed wire bulldog

I talk about poo and wedgies in this one. And mostly complain. Just FYI.

After much effort, I finally found some runners. Like every other kind of store, Campbell River doesn't offer much in the way of athletic shoe stores, so I was losing hope until I went to this one place that had runners with purple on them. That pretty much decided it for me, plus they were in my budget. (Not having bought runners in about 10 years, I found that I had to up my budget dramatically from my initial idea, but these seemed fairly reasonable compared to all the rest.) When I emerged from my apartment with Charlie on our afternoon jaunt, it felt strange to take steps! Almost like my feet weren't actually stepping at all, just kind of hovering. They were heavier than I was used to, like being dressed in battle gear, but it felt good. Like I was an athlete!

Then Charlie pooed in someone's driveway, and yanked the leash out of my hand so it fell in the poo. When I picked it up, it got on both sleeves of my jacket and also on the poo bag holder. Then I discovered I had a wedgie situation, but there was nowhere secret to go to remedy that. Then, even though I thought I dressed appropriately for the weather with my windbreaker and a long sleeved shirt, the sweat-switch in my body flipped on for every single one of my pores, and suddenly there was a sweat-layer sandwiched in between my skin and clothing. Maybe I'm the only one who is like this, but when I get sweaty I hate everything until I can become less sweaty, but I was still several blocks from home. In poo-covered sleeves, with a wedgie.

I came home and gave my dog a bone with cheese to occupy him while I sit in my room and become less angry.

a heartbeat at my feet

I finally put on my grown-up pants, you guys. I have a dog who depends upon me for his every need, which sure makes a person be responsible all of a sudden. I am trying to figure out how to organize my life and his life at the same time. I go for THREE WALKS A DAY. Tomorrow I am going to buy new running shoes because after all the walking, my feet are like, "Hey, all of your shoes are crap." It's a bit overwhelming to explain how exactly my entire life has changed, but it SUPER has. Today I stuffed some cheese in a bone for him so I could take a shower. Tomorrow I'm going to sneak away to school and do all the marking I haven't done all week, because I've been rushing home to take care of my dog. Sometimes I feel like it was a mistake but sometimes I feel like his little heart and my heart are attached together now.

is it time for bed yet

Big day today.

1. Pancake breakfast with students and parents. All morning I kept saying "Pancake breaky" in an Australian accent in my head, from Danny Deckchair. I didn't think any of my students would get the reference, so I declined to mention it. I dislike not being able to share movie references with other people, so it made me a bit cranky.

2. Diet Coke/Menthos experiment, and also making slime with Borax, in Science class (to demonstrate chemical reactions, naturally). Class went bananas and half got detention. Never want to do anything fun in Science again.

3. A student went MISSING after school. Every single grade seven student was called in attempts to locate her, as well as the police. I checked in bathrooms and classrooms, imagining her dead in a cupboard somewhere. When called upon, I couldn't remember what she was wearing or what colour her eyes are, or if she'd even been in Science class. I felt like a terrible, useless person. An hour and a half later she was located by her family, safe and sound - miscommunication only. THANK THE LORD.

4. Worked up the nerve to call my landlord, to see if he would budge on the "no pets allowed" policy, seeing as how I already told a breeder that I would take a puppy in March. Oops. But! I was persistent and imaginative, and suggested a form I could sign about paying for damages or whatever. He relented. Now I need to find a lawyer-type who can advise me as to how I can sign such a paper without leaving room for a false accusation of damage situation. I'M GOING TO GET A PUPPY, YOU GUYS! One of these is mine. His name is Charlie.

if you have fur i'll pat your head

Yesterday in the Save-On parking lot I spent 10 minutes petting and old Golden Retriever who was sitting in the back of a pick-up truck. I was raised to NEVER pet a dog without asking the owner first, so I stared at the dog for a few minutes before going in to get groceries, and on my way out I thought, "It's a Golden Retriever. His face is white. I'm sure it's fine."

(Interesting fact: Golden Retrievers bite more people than Rottweilers do. True story.)

I walked up to him the way I learned how to approach nervous dogs at the vet: eyes downward, hand outstretched. He wagged his tail and smiled at me. I patted his head, and he leaned in to my hand, which is what my dog at home does and I miss that. I'm glad I left before the owner came out, or it might have been awkward, but I'm also glad I pet the dog. I really miss petting dogs.

besides which you see

I'm very "home"-minded right now. I have these ideas for what to do with my mainland home, like paint my room purple and BUY A DOG. (That's totally the plan now. I'm going to buy a dog when I come back for good in June, except I want a dog NOW, especially since there are young Border Terrier dogs available for rescue and I want a Border Terrier because there is a Border Terrier-sized hole in my heart where my wonderful old dog used to be.) I was going to go to Scotland in the summer, since my contract at the high school is for twelve months even though I'm only working for ten, so I'm getting paid for two months of not working, which is probably never going to happen again. However, since I think (I think) I have a job as a substitute with the Surrey School District (!!!!!!!!) in September, I have re-evaluated my goals at this stage in my life and I think I should use that money to buy a car and a dog.

Also, I've been having some crisis thoughts about my work as a teacher. Am I too strict/mean? Am I leaving some kids behind? Am I actually teaching the Math kids any Math? Are they losing a whole year of education because I don't know what I'm doing? I don't know if these thoughts about work are normal. I went out for coffee with a friend who is newly an accountant, and she was self-conscious about her ability to account, so maybe my self-consciousness about my ability to teach is just something that goes along with you when you're new at something.

Last night when I was watching Maria swing her guitar around and sing about how she has confidence in herself, I was thinking how great it would be to listen to that song on repeat in the morning before the kids come. It will be like my "Rocky" theme, except about confidence instead of punching.

to be showing up like this

This week was terrible and sad and frustrating. My wonderful old dog may or may not be with us at this present moment - my mom said it was time to Make The Decision, but I didn't want to because I'd keep her here forever, so then she asked if I wanted to know when "it" happened, and I said no. Pretty much this is the worst thing that could be happening right now. And one of my math classes is driving me bananas, so I talked with the Vice Principal about it on Friday and he said that I should just send the ringleaders to him, but I wanted to handle it by myself. Now I feel like I can't manage my own classroom. I've been listening to the song "Blood Bank" by Bon Iver over and over again for a few days, and I wonder if maybe I should replace it with a more overtly cheerful song to get me out of the blues.

orchard of the strangest fruits

So this is what happened. I opened the front door of my HOME home and was confused because the stairs didn't look familiar. I've been away for a month and I can't even remember what my house looks like. It was a sad, strange moment for me.

Thursday and Friday I was at a teacher's conference and it felt like I was at camp! Mostly because all the staff stayed at the same hotel on the same floor, and we went out for dinner together and sometimes ended up in the Tim Horton's line-up together. It made me realize that I really feel like part of the community at my school, which makes me happy. Now that they are all back in Campbell River and I am at home I miss them, and it's not going to be the same when we get back because some of them I never see because we're on different floors and have lunch at different times. But instead of being sad about that I'm going to be glad that I work with such great people.

These are things I learned at the conference:
- apparently I am a stream-of-consciousness talker
- when I don't get enough sleep I walk into glass windows because I think they are doors
- some tips on differentiating learning for my math class so my genius kid won't get bored and rude
- my habit of drinking hot sugary coffee several times during the day is THE WORST thing I could do for my voice
- keynote speakers = boring 99% of the time
- Tim Horton's breakfast sandwich = amazing 100% of the time (sidenote: I just tried "samwidge" and then "sandwidge" before getting it right. Something is wrong here.)

These are things I learned from being at HOME home for 8 hours:
- I have the best puppies in the world
- television is not as overrated as I tried to convince myself it was
- a new pet peeve is people planning my day for me because I am an independent grown-up and can plan my day for myself
- I miss having other people in the house when I'm going to bed
- it tastes better when someone else makes the coffee
- sometimes I really don't feel like talking

Until a Quieter Time

Lately I have taken to pretend punching my dog in the face. (PRETEND.) He always acts super offended and barks at me, jumping up and trying to bite my hand off. I am comforted by the fact that if anybody actually tries to punch my dog in the face, he will know what to do.

I've been in a foul mood, generally speaking, for a week or so. I thought it sprung from changing my sleeping pattern from ambitious waking-up-at-7-am-in-case-of-TOC-call to a more realistic waking-up-at-8-am-because-I-am-not-nuts. The line between cheerful and grouchy may lie betwixt those morning hours. However, now I am worried that my sleeping pills are altering my moods and I'm going to turn in to a serial killer. I've exhausted (pun) all other natural sleep aids, and my doctor said these are okay - he said I could take three, and I only take one. Probably I should be fine. But if you see me with a murderous glint in my eye, please remove all weaponry from the vicinity and escort me to the doctor. (Thanks in advance.) In the meantime, I will perhaps compromise with myself and aim for a 7:30am awakening and see if that has any affect* on things.

(*I googled it: affect = a verb meaning "to influence;" effect = a noun meaning "result/to bring about".)

Standing at the Beginning With You (Inaugural Post!)

I love that word, 'inaugural.' I so rarely get to use it. In fact, I had to google it to make sure I was spelling it correctly, that is how rarely I use it. But now I have used it twice, and I am happy.

Today marks my return to the beach with my puppy, after a brief hiatus that resulted from me not being able to drag myself out of bed at the early hour at which I set my alarm clock. Each day I would press snooze probably three times, and then just turn the thing off. Because I have no reason to be up that early, you see - it was just part of my plan to get exercise in the morning and start the day right. Plus, I love the beach. But today, I dragged myself out of bed (after only two snoozes) and drove myself and my ecstatic puppy back to the beach. The sky was filled with ominous clouds for the whole drive, until I crossed the railroad tracks into Crescent Beach, and then I was greeted with marvelous blue skies. I think the beach missed me, too.

However, I did notice that the other people at the beach were not as cheerful as I. Downcast eyes and no jaunty "Hello!", as I felt the morning deserved. Although, I just thought of this now - I have always been really bad at knowing when to make eye contact with a stranger you are passing. Like, I don't want to have a creepy staring contest with you for ten minutes as you approach... so I look elsewhere until we are almost passing and then I make eye contact and offer a greeting. Maybe I am waiting too long, and the strangers passing me today were trying to greet me at a distance and I was the one with downcast eyes, so they thought I was being a jerk! Now I feel terrible. You know how they had those cheesy etiquette books in the 40s and 50s? I wish I could find one for now that could once and for all deal with my eye contact issue. At what point is it polite, and not creepy or rude, to meet eyes with a stranger? Or maybe everyone already knows, and I'm the only one in the dark.

Anyway. There's my story for today and my first ever blog post. I don't really know if this is going to work out, but I'll give it a try! Let me know what you think.