I love when people give me flowers (maybe that's the true reason I want to perform*). I love getting gifts. I love my students. So, pretty much when my boss gets me flowers and my students give me gifts you'd think I'd feel appreciated... right? Not wrong, but it ain't right either.
After today's concert (which was amazing, btwubs- if you haven't watched this yet, stop reading a watch!) members of my choir came up to me with their parents with a few armfuls of Walmart bags.
Student: "Ms. H- we wanted to get you something, so we pooled our money together and got you these."
...As I open three bags full of Hot Pockets**...
Me: "Thanks guys- that is really thoughtful of you."
Student: "We knew you'd like it. My mom said it was weird, but I told her that you would say not to judge other people for their personal choices, as we are all members of the choir community and are supposed to support each other."
...As my jaw hangs open and I think I might cry...
Parent: I didn't say it was weird that she likes Hot Pockets. I said it was weird for you guys to buy her a bunch of Hot Pockets. Nobody could possibly eat that many Hot Pockets.
Me: "Actually, I totally will. I really love Hot Pockets." (cue my spiel on the many merits of HP's)
Parent: "Ok, that's a little weird."
I also got flowers from the principal, several homemade cards, and a Starbucks gift card with $8.04 on it. Kids are so weird!!!****
In other news, I have started receiving grad school offers- and I'm not done with all the auditions yet. It seems pretty promising, but I'm sure I'll find a way to biff it all up! I have another one this weekend- thinks good thoughts for me as I drive into the longest state, the state responsible for thick accents, Graceland, Dolly Parton and wearing too much orange. Make way, Rocky Top!
*It's not the true reason I perform. It is an added benefit, for sure. But I am in no way subjecting myself to a life of constant struggle and rejection so that I can get a few stems at the end of the night.
**How did they know I love Hot Pockets?***
*** It's not like I eat a HP every day for lunch during their class, giving them a play by play of the best flavors/styles. It's not like I sing the HP jingle every other time I take a bite. It's not like I taught them to sing the HP jingle in a 3 part harmony just for feces and laughter... Okay, maybe I actually, probably might have/definitely done all of those things. I can't help it that it is the most cost efficient, easily handled, most diverse frozen lunch option!
****And don't give me any of that non-judgement, choral community crap. I say it all the time, but on my own personal blog I have to admit that I teach some strange little children.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Yes they can!
Last semester my older students did a study on music and how it affects politics and social change. (That may or may not be normal for middle school choir to discuss, I'm not sure. Seeing as I have never had any training on being a middle school music teacher, sometimes I kind of wing it. Like most things in life). Out of all of things we studied, one of them was a video that will.i.am made* to (what I consider) one of the most inspiring speeches ever. If you haven't seen it, check it out here.
This semester, while discussing the scholar's choice for the African American History Concert, they came to the consensus that they wanted to perform the speech from the video. Someday I'm going to tell my kids that their ideas are impossible, but apparently that day has yet to come. They wanted to figure out how to do it, and I decided to support them. (Because next to impossible tasks are my favorite ones!) This quickly went from a class idea to a whole school project. I was able to recruit another teacher who works part time as a videographer to shoot and edit it during our combined office hours, got all of the teachers to agree to let their kids be a part of it, and another colleague to give up her office for us to use. We all worked together to make this crazy video that my kids wanted to make!
The following is the video that will close our school program on Thursday, it will accompanied by my choir singing their own melody beneath it. I am so proud of the final product, and thankful to Vegan Lady for shooting/editing and J Jantz for recording the piano for us! I've worked really hard on this- I hope you like it!
http://vimeo.com/60775005
My kids are so awesome, I'm so proud!!!
*Because I love will.i.am. A lot. He's one of the most artistic main stream artists out there.
This semester, while discussing the scholar's choice for the African American History Concert, they came to the consensus that they wanted to perform the speech from the video. Someday I'm going to tell my kids that their ideas are impossible, but apparently that day has yet to come. They wanted to figure out how to do it, and I decided to support them. (Because next to impossible tasks are my favorite ones!) This quickly went from a class idea to a whole school project. I was able to recruit another teacher who works part time as a videographer to shoot and edit it during our combined office hours, got all of the teachers to agree to let their kids be a part of it, and another colleague to give up her office for us to use. We all worked together to make this crazy video that my kids wanted to make!
The following is the video that will close our school program on Thursday, it will accompanied by my choir singing their own melody beneath it. I am so proud of the final product, and thankful to Vegan Lady for shooting/editing and J Jantz for recording the piano for us! I've worked really hard on this- I hope you like it!
http://vimeo.com/60775005
My kids are so awesome, I'm so proud!!!
*Because I love will.i.am. A lot. He's one of the most artistic main stream artists out there.
Things I probably should have learned years ago (that I just learned this weekend)
1. Light up heart necklaces are always in style*
2. When the ping pong balls come out, the cell phone goes away.
3. Every thing on Urban Dictionary is made funnier by Jr acting it out like a robot.
4. None of my friends think Philip Seymour Hoffman is attractive, and I don't understand why.
*My dad sent me a super kitsch necklace for a Valentine, but it didn't get here until yesterday. He told me to wear it anyways- it would always be in style.
2. When the ping pong balls come out, the cell phone goes away.
3. Every thing on Urban Dictionary is made funnier by Jr acting it out like a robot.
4. None of my friends think Philip Seymour Hoffman is attractive, and I don't understand why.
*My dad sent me a super kitsch necklace for a Valentine, but it didn't get here until yesterday. He told me to wear it anyways- it would always be in style.
Friday, February 22, 2013
What degree of murder is it if you just can't help it?
Yesterday was rather traumatic. On a scale of 1 to Depressing it was like a 4, but that's a lot for me!* On my way into work I ran over a squirrel. I'm pretty sure I killed it, and I felt terrible. Is it silly that over all of the stress in my life (grad school, moving, being sick, etc.) I am most upset over the instant death of an adorable defenseless woodland creature? I don't think so.
During my first class, my kids were more than a little worked up. I pleaded to their humanitarian sides by telling them I was in a bit of a sour mood due to the unintentional murder I had committed. I told them how he appeared in the middle of the street and how there were cars behind me and I couldn't stop... I told the tale to best of my ability and almost titled it "Death of a Squirrel"***. Most of the kids laughed at the tears welling in my eyes, a few asked if we could just start warm-ups, and a few sympathetic girls sighed dramatically- then we continued with our day.
What kind of sick and twisted child would do this?
What was the motive behind this twisted act? Was she trying to be supportive? Or has this child actually found my weakness? Did she mean to taunt me with the memory of those I have hurt? Or did she mean to comfort me? Should I be flattered or flabbergasted?
Either way, I have a lot more respect for this child. Thinking with the best intentions, I am touched that she thought of me and my feelings. With the worst intentions, I don't think I want to make her mad...
Happy weekend everybody, and may you all be given plush stuffed animals of anything you have accidentally killed!
*I'm like a young, white Bobby McFerrin**. I literally live with a constant soundtrack of DWBH playing.
**That's not true, I have nowhere near his talent or range. I just meant that I like to whistle and smile. Comparing myself to Bobby is like comparing Susan Boyle to Celine Dion. One is slightly awkward, and mildly talented... while Celine is the center or all things diva. I love Celine Dion.
***I would have, but thought Miller's people might sue for copyright infringements. I'm an opera singer who teaches at an inner city school as her day job, does it sound like I can afford copyright infringements.
During my first class, my kids were more than a little worked up. I pleaded to their humanitarian sides by telling them I was in a bit of a sour mood due to the unintentional murder I had committed. I told them how he appeared in the middle of the street and how there were cars behind me and I couldn't stop... I told the tale to best of my ability and almost titled it "Death of a Squirrel"***. Most of the kids laughed at the tears welling in my eyes, a few asked if we could just start warm-ups, and a few sympathetic girls sighed dramatically- then we continued with our day.
I drove into work without harming any innocent creatures today, I should probably get a gold star. Unfortunately, this was sitting on my desk with a note that said:
"Dear Miss H, I thought you'd like this".
What kind of sick and twisted child would do this?
What was the motive behind this twisted act? Was she trying to be supportive? Or has this child actually found my weakness? Did she mean to taunt me with the memory of those I have hurt? Or did she mean to comfort me? Should I be flattered or flabbergasted?
Either way, I have a lot more respect for this child. Thinking with the best intentions, I am touched that she thought of me and my feelings. With the worst intentions, I don't think I want to make her mad...
Happy weekend everybody, and may you all be given plush stuffed animals of anything you have accidentally killed!
*I'm like a young, white Bobby McFerrin**. I literally live with a constant soundtrack of DWBH playing.
**That's not true, I have nowhere near his talent or range. I just meant that I like to whistle and smile. Comparing myself to Bobby is like comparing Susan Boyle to Celine Dion. One is slightly awkward, and mildly talented... while Celine is the center or all things diva. I love Celine Dion.
***I would have, but thought Miller's people might sue for copyright infringements. I'm an opera singer who teaches at an inner city school as her day job, does it sound like I can afford copyright infringements.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
A series of awkward pick-up lines
Last week I bought a new perfume because it was pretty and floral and I thought it would make me smell nice. I didn't realize that it attracted crazies like bees to a flower. (Maybe there is something to be said about crazies being like bees, as both flowers and perfume are floral. Or maybe I should have come up with a better metaphor, I'm not really sure...)
If you are my facebook friend, you have probably read a few of these already- as I have been flabbergasted and posted several as they arise. I think what's truly impressive/ terrifying is that they have all happened while wearing the new perfume. (Which makes me think I should burn the perfume).*
Crazy #1: While in the check out line at Wal-mart."Hey there, how are you doing? Can I get your number girl?"
(This doesn't seem that crazy, until you find out that he was in front of me at the check out counter at Wal-mart, at 9:30pm, on Valentine's day. He had- I kid you not- just bought a card, some chocolates, and some gross/cheap Wally World flowers. Seriously?)
Crazy #2: While buying a scratch ticket at the gas station** "Can I see some ID?" I show him. "Wow, you could totally pass for 16***. I get off in an hour, want to grab dinner?" (What? With some creeper who thinks I look 16? NO!!!!)
Crazy #3: While sitting on my flight to San Francisco."You're listening to Toto? That's my favorite band!Blah, blah, blah, (I'd already dismissed him)" I'm sorry, but 1. Why are you stalking my Ipod? And 2. Why would anybody admit to Toto being their favorite band? Both of these make me have to say a resounding no. Besides, I judge who would hit on me the way I look when I travel.****
Crazy #4: While checking into my hotel. "Are you here for the convention? I'd love to dance with you later! Promise you'll save every dance for me?" (From the woman behind me at hotel check-in. Apparently while I was in town there was a LGBT Salsa Dance convention. And yes, I did end up going dancing*****, but not with her!)
I'm not sure if I should be flattered by all the attention, or terrified. In the words of my stalker Ingrid- "Everybody wants to be loved, but not by total creepers."****** I need to get rid of the perfume, right?
*No, I probably shouldn't do that. I'm pretty sure that is almost as dumb as lighting a can of hairspray on fire...
**A weird habit I picked up from That Woman. I buy them sometimes when I'm thinking of her.
***Liar, I couldn't. And I'm ok with that, 16 was an awkward and terrible age!
****You should see what I look like when I travel. I wear a face mask to prevent germs from others in the plane, and a scarf around my head to hide my ear buds from the flight attendants. I refuse to turn off my ipod for take-off/landing. All in all, I look like a hit man from Elton John's mafia. Actually, I'll just show you...
If you are my facebook friend, you have probably read a few of these already- as I have been flabbergasted and posted several as they arise. I think what's truly impressive/ terrifying is that they have all happened while wearing the new perfume. (Which makes me think I should burn the perfume).*
Crazy #1: While in the check out line at Wal-mart."Hey there, how are you doing? Can I get your number girl?"
(This doesn't seem that crazy, until you find out that he was in front of me at the check out counter at Wal-mart, at 9:30pm, on Valentine's day. He had- I kid you not- just bought a card, some chocolates, and some gross/cheap Wally World flowers. Seriously?)
Crazy #2: While buying a scratch ticket at the gas station** "Can I see some ID?" I show him. "Wow, you could totally pass for 16***. I get off in an hour, want to grab dinner?" (What? With some creeper who thinks I look 16? NO!!!!)
Crazy #3: While sitting on my flight to San Francisco."You're listening to Toto? That's my favorite band!Blah, blah, blah, (I'd already dismissed him)" I'm sorry, but 1. Why are you stalking my Ipod? And 2. Why would anybody admit to Toto being their favorite band? Both of these make me have to say a resounding no. Besides, I judge who would hit on me the way I look when I travel.****
Crazy #4: While checking into my hotel. "Are you here for the convention? I'd love to dance with you later! Promise you'll save every dance for me?" (From the woman behind me at hotel check-in. Apparently while I was in town there was a LGBT Salsa Dance convention. And yes, I did end up going dancing*****, but not with her!)
I'm not sure if I should be flattered by all the attention, or terrified. In the words of my stalker Ingrid- "Everybody wants to be loved, but not by total creepers."****** I need to get rid of the perfume, right?
*No, I probably shouldn't do that. I'm pretty sure that is almost as dumb as lighting a can of hairspray on fire...
**A weird habit I picked up from That Woman. I buy them sometimes when I'm thinking of her.
***Liar, I couldn't. And I'm ok with that, 16 was an awkward and terrible age!
****You should see what I look like when I travel. I wear a face mask to prevent germs from others in the plane, and a scarf around my head to hide my ear buds from the flight attendants. I refuse to turn off my ipod for take-off/landing. All in all, I look like a hit man from Elton John's mafia. Actually, I'll just show you...
This is from a summer road trip, pictured here with the lovely J-Jantz.Not pretty, on either count...
*****Of course, I went dancing- could you expect anything less? I will share more in my next post about my random adventures in SF... but not tonight.
****** (She may have left the second part out...)
Monday, February 18, 2013
Do all families have a Christmas Creeper Dance Party?
I called my brother today to wish him a happy birthday. I was extremely proud of myself for remembering it at all, let alone calling him about it.*
Somehow the conversation quickly turned from discussing his birthday plans to talking about my first boyfriend (in middle school, so it hardly counts) who now lives in L.A. and makes a killing as a cross dressing hip-hop artist. Why can I never have a normal conversation?****
Anyways- I decided to make up for the botched phone call with a birthday blog post!
*MegRo likes to point out that I am bad at remembering birthdays. She thinks that I forgot her birthday last year**, just because I called her and left her a message talking about my day. When I talked to her the next day and asked how she was, she said she's fine but was a little mad that I forgot her birthday. I countered with the fact that I called her and was upset that she didn't call me back so I could wish her a happy birthday.
** She's right, I totally forgot her birthday. I asked her today (while I was on a birthday roll) what day her birthday was this year. Her reply? "April 9th, same day as last year". With an attitude like that, I might "forget" it this year too. ***
*** I would never intentionally ignore somebody's birthday. But there is a strong chance I will forget it. I'm sorry in advance, MegRo.
****It doesn't help that my brother is as goofy as me (or probably more so). When all four of us sibs are together, life gets pretty weird.*****
*****Four words: Christmas Creeper Dance Party. Unless all families spend Christmas night awkwardly dancing in the kitchen to the Beastie Boys, no?
Somehow the conversation quickly turned from discussing his birthday plans to talking about my first boyfriend (in middle school, so it hardly counts) who now lives in L.A. and makes a killing as a cross dressing hip-hop artist. Why can I never have a normal conversation?****
Anyways- I decided to make up for the botched phone call with a birthday blog post!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOOTER!
After looking at these photos, is there any doubt that this man is my brother???
*MegRo likes to point out that I am bad at remembering birthdays. She thinks that I forgot her birthday last year**, just because I called her and left her a message talking about my day. When I talked to her the next day and asked how she was, she said she's fine but was a little mad that I forgot her birthday. I countered with the fact that I called her and was upset that she didn't call me back so I could wish her a happy birthday.
** She's right, I totally forgot her birthday. I asked her today (while I was on a birthday roll) what day her birthday was this year. Her reply? "April 9th, same day as last year". With an attitude like that, I might "forget" it this year too. ***
*** I would never intentionally ignore somebody's birthday. But there is a strong chance I will forget it. I'm sorry in advance, MegRo.
****It doesn't help that my brother is as goofy as me (or probably more so). When all four of us sibs are together, life gets pretty weird.*****
*****Four words: Christmas Creeper Dance Party. Unless all families spend Christmas night awkwardly dancing in the kitchen to the Beastie Boys, no?
A brief conversation between friends...
Me: What if I told you I did something that I know you would tell me not to do, but I did it anyways- would you judge me for it?
MegRo: Probably not...
Me: Alright, well I did something that I probably shouldn't have done.
MegRo: Dog fighting?*
*And this is why everybody should have a best friend like MegRo. Because apparently she wouldn't judge me even if I were a dog fighter.**
**Obviously I'm not a dog fighter. Rufus is too friendly, and Maude has been too near death for too long. Also, because it's bad. So, there's that.
Monday, February 11, 2013
How can I be a sociopath with Ingrid Michaelson around?
I'm pretty sure Ingrid Michaelson has a song for every occasion. Sometimes I listen to her songs and idly sing along, and then sometimes I need a good jam and remember the songs I've been singing since my senior year of high school. Thank you Ingrid Michaelson. It's like you looked into my future and wrote a song for every event in my life. But then I think, that's pretty creepy. In fact- that's super cray. I mean- did you contact a psychic and decide what my thoughts and feelings would be for my first kiss, first pet adoption, even songs for moving? AM I BEING PSYCHICALLY STALKED BY A B LIST INDIE MUSICIAN? DO I NEED A RESTRAINING ORDER FROM YOU, INGRID? Although, I doubt you can get a restraining order from someone hypothetically writing songs about you... it's something to look into.
I'm currently planning another trip to San Francisco to sing this weekend, and listening to "Far Away". I'm super excited for this trip/move/new adventure. See- Ingrid must have known that when she wrote it. She knew I was going to be moving from one side of the country to the other, and decided to write a song to commemorate it!
Oh yeah, you're probably wondering where the sociopath label fits in, aren't you?
After a long conversation with MegRo yesterday, she became increasingly concerned by my lack of concern for recent events in my life.* You'd think that your best friend would enjoy laughing on the phone with you for an hour or so, but mine laughed at my jokes while questioning my sanity. So much so that she googled an online test for sociopaths, took it (answering as she assumed I would answer), and after taking all 10 questions** she came to the conclusion that I was a potential sociopath. Rude.
I mean, I might be emotionally dead inside- but I definitely didn't kill kittens when I was a child. (Although I did let my canary Elton John*** die, but I swear that was an accident). I find it pretty impossible to go throwing around terms and labels, when I listen to Ingrid Michaelson. The way I see it, I don't need to express my feelings when she has already done it for me. Duh.
Besides, shouldn't we worry about MegRo's sanity? She's the one that filled out the test....******
*See prior blogpost, it's kind of a doozy
** Yes, it apparently only takes 10 multiple choice questions to make you worthy for an episode of Criminal Minds.
***Of course that was his name. What else do you name a yellow singing bird who's favorite thing in life was his 70's flowered mirror? I'm apparently constantly attracted to gay men. ****
****Of course I'm talking about RY***** here, as he always thinks my blog is about him anyways... who were you thinking of?
*****As I type this latest installment I am gchatting with RY. He is baking brownies and completely failing. So far he put in 1 1/2 times the amount of oil it said, and decided he could override the excess by putting some brown sugar in it, where he discovered a lump of bread in the brown sugar. This is of course going to end in disaster- maybe we can convince him to spend his day off writing a guest blog? He is one of the funniest men in the world and so pretty!!!
******She'd kill me if I left that unresolved. MegRo is not a sociopath, or a killer, or anything bad. If I had to describe her in images it would be a rabble of butterflies floating past good ol'ROY G. BIV*******
*******Yes, I still say ROY G BIV even though scientists have recently refused to recognize indigo. I refuse to let the man loose the vowel in his last name. ROY G BV is just silly and sounds like a tacky, uneducated, backwoods trucker (and nothing good comes from truckers- do you watch tv?). I don't want MegRo's butterflies to fly past that, it would ruin everything!!!
I'm currently planning another trip to San Francisco to sing this weekend, and listening to "Far Away". I'm super excited for this trip/move/new adventure. See- Ingrid must have known that when she wrote it. She knew I was going to be moving from one side of the country to the other, and decided to write a song to commemorate it!
Oh yeah, you're probably wondering where the sociopath label fits in, aren't you?
After a long conversation with MegRo yesterday, she became increasingly concerned by my lack of concern for recent events in my life.* You'd think that your best friend would enjoy laughing on the phone with you for an hour or so, but mine laughed at my jokes while questioning my sanity. So much so that she googled an online test for sociopaths, took it (answering as she assumed I would answer), and after taking all 10 questions** she came to the conclusion that I was a potential sociopath. Rude.
I mean, I might be emotionally dead inside- but I definitely didn't kill kittens when I was a child. (Although I did let my canary Elton John*** die, but I swear that was an accident). I find it pretty impossible to go throwing around terms and labels, when I listen to Ingrid Michaelson. The way I see it, I don't need to express my feelings when she has already done it for me. Duh.
Besides, shouldn't we worry about MegRo's sanity? She's the one that filled out the test....******
*See prior blogpost, it's kind of a doozy
** Yes, it apparently only takes 10 multiple choice questions to make you worthy for an episode of Criminal Minds.
***Of course that was his name. What else do you name a yellow singing bird who's favorite thing in life was his 70's flowered mirror? I'm apparently constantly attracted to gay men. ****
****Of course I'm talking about RY***** here, as he always thinks my blog is about him anyways... who were you thinking of?
*****As I type this latest installment I am gchatting with RY. He is baking brownies and completely failing. So far he put in 1 1/2 times the amount of oil it said, and decided he could override the excess by putting some brown sugar in it, where he discovered a lump of bread in the brown sugar. This is of course going to end in disaster- maybe we can convince him to spend his day off writing a guest blog? He is one of the funniest men in the world and so pretty!!!
******She'd kill me if I left that unresolved. MegRo is not a sociopath, or a killer, or anything bad. If I had to describe her in images it would be a rabble of butterflies floating past good ol'ROY G. BIV*******
*******Yes, I still say ROY G BIV even though scientists have recently refused to recognize indigo. I refuse to let the man loose the vowel in his last name. ROY G BV is just silly and sounds like a tacky, uneducated, backwoods trucker (and nothing good comes from truckers- do you watch tv?). I don't want MegRo's butterflies to fly past that, it would ruin everything!!!
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