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I think itapos;s time i get a new mp3 player. I just admit defeat with this one. It wonapos;t even connect to the Windows XP computer downstairs now, and itapos;s entirely too frustrating for itapos;s own worth.

I think i might get another iRiver, or maybe a Creative one like Jill has. It needs to have a bit more space than 20GB (because i suspect i might fill that up eventually) and it absolutely MUST work with Vista.
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Iapos;ve recently learned that October 19 is National Evaluate Your�Life Day. Which is perfect for me, because tomorrow marks my quarterlife birthday. (Yay synchronicity.*)

Hereapos;s the thing. Iapos;m terrible at giving out birthday well-wishes online, because any time I see a thread or an entry or comments page brimming with the same two words over and over again,�I just think, Well, whatapos;s my voice added to the chorus?�Nothing. And if this person actually knows me, they know I wish them well, so they donapos;t really need to see it here, they know that my absence doesnapos;t amount to "Suck a rusty tailpipe for your birthday, asshole"�or anything like that. And if they donapos;t know me that well at all, the gesture would be just totally empty.

Which is kind of a shitty way to approach birthdays, especially for friends. Because who doesnapos;t like seeing a nice long list of people whoapos;ve gone out of their way to say those two words to you?

But I know, hey, this journal isnapos;t that great, there are much more interesting and funnier blogs out there, so if youapos;re still here, it must be because you like me (unless youapos;re looking for Creeping�Hemlock news, in which case, jokeapos;s on you, sucka). I know you all wish me well, and Iapos;m happy to have such a tidy list of cool people who I get to read up on every day. So thanks for the wishes Iapos;ve already gotten, and thanks for reading.

Iapos;m going to be busy all tomorrow getting ready for this lame website meeting (plus a second birthday post seems like overkill), so let me go ahead and wish a happy birthday to my Birth�Date�Brothers:






(Do you realize Viggoapos;s going to be fifty? Damn,�I hope I look that amazing when Iapos;m... Well, twenty-five would be nice, actually.)

Evaluate Your Life


*Also, yay rum. apos;Cause that synchronicity fucking sucks.


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Graaaah. I havenapos;t updated in a looong timeee. D: Anyway, I learned two songs by ear It doesnapos;t sound like anything special but since I fail at life and this week has been plain misery, I feel real accomplished. Now for the festival thing. Itapos;s not really a festival. They just call it that. When the 7th and 8th graders play with the High School in the auditorium and itapos;s this big thing and whatever. Thatapos;s coming up November 4th. Yay~� *rolls around for entertainment* Iapos;m soo booooreedd. Thereapos;s only one solution to this To the Kink Meme >D Bye guys
--TheIrascibleTea--

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Een dun boekje van Bettine Vriesekoop over drie trainingsstages die ze in China heeft doorgemaakt. Het verslag over de eerste keer (in 1980) is beslist het indrukwekkendst: Bettine was nog jong en zat onder de plak van trainer Gerard Bakker, die haar in haar eentje naar het toen nog uiterst communistische - dus sobere - China stuurde. Het was een zware maar ook uiterst leerzame periode - al beseft Bettine dat laatste pas als ze in 1994 terugkeert. Dan heeft ze zich losgemaakt van Gerard Bakker, is ze een zelfbewuste(re) vrouw geworden en heeft ze een zeer rijke sponsor gevonden zodat ze in de luxe van het duurste hotel van Peking verkeert. Maar de training blijft streng, en Bettine leert ervan: na terugkeer verovert ze na tien jaar weer de Europese titel.
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Iapos;m okay now~ thanks for all the concerns. Really appreciate it.
definately, at times iapos;ll still miss having him around... Itapos;s just so different.
unbelievable that it was so sudden and tragic. Nevertheless,
time is ticking, days are passing...i have to move on to a new day.
just that for that few days i knew what really was
despair,� sorrow,� helplessness. Iapos;m not exaggerating.

i am back.
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Recently, I have been hearing a man yelling from his home somewhere in the neighborhood. He always sounds angry and belligerent but I never hear a second voice. I wonder if heapos;s just drunk and stands in his yard having imaginary fights. It seems to happen around the same time too. Itapos;s kinda annoying because hearing guys yell in that I AM LOUDER WHICH MEANS I AM RIGHT tone of voice always makes me roll my eyes.

I never understood people who yell at each other, especially in public. I once saw a couple arguing in the street one late night and the guy was yelling so loud he was actually screeching. I tried not to stare but the argument came off as so incredibly stupid especially in the way he was reacting to the woman with him. She was yelling at him too but he wanted nothing to do with her except get away from her and he was high-pitched screeching like a harpy every step of the way. I couldnapos;t imagine what they could have been arguing about that would merit such a response. And Iapos;m sure everyone on the block was thrilled at having their sleep disturbed by their inability to control themselves.

Iapos;ve noticed that yelling in public has become more prevalent since the popularity of the cell phone. People nowadays seem to have no problems getting into LOUD AND ANGRY over-cellphone fights (and Iapos;m talking ADULTS here, not hyperactive teens who seem to want to pick fights at the drop of a hat.) I have hung up on my own mother to keep from becoming "that person". Overhearing general conversations is almost quaint compared to getting sucked into a cellphone fight. Thatapos;s just downright uncomfortable.

Iapos;ve accepted the fact that cellphone conversations end up loud for some reason because Iapos;ve inexplicably found myself on occasion getting loud on my own phone even when I think Iapos;m using my "indoor voice". But then again, Jose complains I have a tendency to speak at a high volume anyway so who knows. (Iapos;m awful at "stealth" conversations as a result).

I absolutely hate the sound of people loudly arguing, whether theyapos;re fighting imaginary people or not. Sometimes I wonder if its a form of attention-whoring because these people MUST know that their neighbors or passersbys are noticing. And you know what the worst part is? I canapos;t decide if the guyapos;s yelling annoys me because heapos;s yelling or more because I canapos;t understand a word heapos;s saying.

Because Iapos;m gossipy like that. :P
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We ventured out at about 7 NY time, 11 Iceland time... Took a taxi back into the city, ate at an elegant place that had caught our eye earlier, the Fish Market restaurant, seafood-Asian fusion cuisine. Three Brits at the next table were merrily discussing Zaireapos;s currency back in the 1970s, some units of which were fractions of a US penny. No one else in the place. Jonathan had a cod and lobster "hot pot" with green noodles and lime leaves; I had the "maki mania," 3 kinds, the best sushi rolls I ever tasted in my life. Some sort of smoked fish really made them delicious. We walked back in the gentle rain through quiet shop-lined streets. The full moon had been enormous and bright, was now misty.




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Tell me that the parent has too much going on in her own life to think Iapos;m an idiot.

Tell me that my lead teacher is too much beset by evil IEPs from neighboring districts to think Iapos;m a flake.

Tell me that this much anxiety is perfectly normal for a first-year teacher, and that my kids wonapos;t necessarily fail and I probably wonapos;t get fired if I make a mistake. Because of my subconscious is having none of it. *sighs*

Any tips about dealing with anxiety as a teacher?

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