getting over it

While driving to work the other day, I had to stop at the lights (the set that always makes everybody 2minutes later than they would be had it not been for that one car) and I looked out to the side of my car window and saw a lone poppy in the middle of the road. It was growing out of the asphalt. Isn't that great?

...is a term I've taught to my English Language students. All it basically means is when a words changes meaning, and there are different forms of this:

Broadening: when the word originally meant something specific, and now includes more than it used to. (Kleenex for any tissue, for example, which is also 'Commonisation' btw.) 'Meat' used to mean any kind of food.

Narrowing: the opposite of broadening.

Deterioration: When we turn a word into something nasty. 'Erect'. 'Gay'. 'Hussy' (which used to mean housewife, btw.)

Elevation: the opposite of detereoration.

...anyway, you get the gist.

What it's got me pondering is: will our language ever semantically stay motionless? Do people realise that we speak an ever changing language? Or is it just old people that seem to be bitterly aware that they're not up 'with it'?

I wonder if i'll one day sit down at a computer or in a cafe and think "What the hell are these people talking about?" It's like in 'Finding Nemo,' when the fish says (about the baby stoner turtle) "It's like he's trying to speak to me."

Who knows?
AFK :P

I'm sitting in a dark, comfortable cafe, drinking coffee, reading my book. I can see the beach from here. Good music. Perfect.

It's not you. It's me. I promise. Laziness, practicality, an obsession with facebook (that I've now left due to a hacker)...whatever. You don't really care that much, do you?

Today was a everything-that-can-go-wrong-will-go-wrong kinda day. It took me an hour to get dressed. Pants inside out. Top back-to-front. Stain on top that looked like someone had ejaculated on me. Black flats went missing. Sit down. Too tired to put on yet another outfit... cue being late for work.

I.T problems, the exams I had left for my class going missing (ending up stabled to another classes exams- wtf), not enough desks set up in exams, stub toe, slam finger in car door, cancel appointment because I remembered I have after school meetings, etc.

I won't bore you too much with all the details. Let's just say, it could have gone a whole lot smoother. In fact, if you want to know how smooth today was, it was my homemade pancake batter smooth. (Floury lumps are a given.)

What I really want to say is that I miss writing. Not necessarily because I don't write anymore...I think it's more the networking relating to writing. Getting feedback. I even liked being criticised. (Is that weird?) I felt like I was a nerdy little part of something bigger...much like I assume all the c.o.d die hards do. Do you think they think about the fact that they're part of a macrocosm of fake guns and sweaty finger movements?

I should stop ranting. I'll write again when I have something better to say.

In my life B.D (Before Dean), I was sort of seeing this guy named Andy, if you can call it that. He was a lifeguard. I thought he was cute. Turned out he was just a bit of a jock. I talked to his friend about music more than I talked to him. The friend told me he loved me in the middle of a pub. I didn't love him. I didn't know what to say, he must have seen this because he left the pub, never came back and never talked to me again.

Now, in life A.D, I became a teacher. I was confident. I was young. I was at my first ever swimming sports, wearing an oversized blue cowboy hat with far too much tinsel on it considering it wasn't Christmas, but that's what you do at the swimming sports.

Swimmming pools have lifeguards.

Of course, out of all the swimming pools, in all the world, he had to be guarding (is that right??) mine. Ugh.

My exaggerated cries of "GO XAVIER!!" (My swimming house) became muted and I swapped duties with a teacher who was not quite as close to Andy, the friend of Mr I love you.

Then, last night, I was at an engagement party with Dean and Mr I love you was waiting the event. I know there's a captain obvious, but if he had a cousin, I'm sure he'd be named Captain Awkward, and Captain Awkward was well and truly at the engagement party.

He had to serve us all night, and when I told one person why the waiter wasn't going anywhere near us, or when he did he didn't make eye-contact, it spread pretty quickly. Enter alcohol. Enter rude (slightly too loud) comments being made about the waiter who apparently looks like a monkey.

I was so mortified. It's bad enough that I didn't say anything when Mr I love you told me he loved me, but this was a little too much.

My life, the movie. I wonder how many embarrassing chapters there are?

I'm sitting in a classroom by myself. It's 3:29pm. The kids have gone. I'm asking myself 'why on earth is anyone a teacher?' I'm asking myself 'why am I a teacher?' I'm asking myself 'Is it because i'm afraid of change or because I think I should not be a quitter.' I'm trying to remember the really good classes I had before this one. I vaguely remember them, but it's hard when there's one recent thorn in your side drawing your attention...

When something is hard, how do you know when to quit and when to attempt to triumph over the obstacle?

i live next door to boo radley