You want the flute???? You can't handle the flute....

So, I'm not trying to brag, but I have always been fairly musical (I say fairly, because I was never destined to be orchestral). I was able to pick up playing any musical instrument pretty quickly. And I really loved playing. I played the violin from grade 4-6, the clarinet in grade 6, the flute in grade 6, the tenor sax from grade 7-10, the baritone sax from grade 8-9, I played the trombone for a few weeks in grade 6, when playing the clarinet, flute, and violin wasn't quite enough. I was in the choir from grade 3-7. I sang for the Sweet Adelines (acapella, barbershop) for a year. I took piano lessons when I was 20, and made it to grade 2 piano in a month. I also used to wish that I could be Annie and used to sing the songs as loudly as I could in hopes that someone would hear and cast me in the starring role. I have to admit that, with the exception of the piano, I didn't have to try very hard to play the instruments, and I rarely practiced.

I decided about a month ago that I would really like to join Robyn's concert band. You know, get back into being musical and all that. But they didn't need a tenor sax (which I still have, but haven't played in a while). And she said they needed flutes. And I thought, hey, a challenge! So I bought a flute and started practicing. And realized I had a lot of work ahead of me. I thought the 2 weeks of practice I did was great, and that I had caught on to it fairly quickly. There were a few really high notes that I couldn't make, but hey, how often will I need them??? Hah! Sweet irony strikes again.

My first band practice was last Wednesday. It was my most humbling musical experience ever. When I arrived, the conductor was handing out the most complicated, butt-ugly, high noted piece of crap music I had ever seen. It took every ounce of courage in my soul not to run out of the room screaming, bashing people over the head with my flute and cursing the music gods for this twist of fate. I stayed, but it was beyond my better judgment. It was like one of those dreams where you arrive at class only to find you have a test worth 100% of your mark that you didn't study for, or that you have not handed in any of the assignments thus far for the course, and are now failing. And I thought, holy crap. Even if I practice 2 hours every day for the next year, I will still not be where everybody else in the band is. So my first band practice was a huge flop, and I think I may have played one out of every 20 notes in the songs we played. I am not the musician I thought I was.

Guess what? I'm going back. I have been practicing. I'm not giving up. Because I am a glutton for punishment, I enjoy being musically flogged, and I have some perverse need for humiliating experiences. Or I just really want to be able to say "Last summer, at band camp...."

Next practice, I will play 2 out of every 20 notes (that's 1 in 10 for all you fraction wizards out there).

On the bright side, I now have a musical instrument that fits in my bag. It would just be better to have a musical instrument that fits in my bag and that I can play proficiently. But, as the Rolling Stones say, "you can't always get what you want..."

Bad Children

I had dinner with a few co-workers on Wednesday and somehow we got talking about naughty things we did when we were children. I was shocked to discover that I am not the only one who did mean/sneaky/naughty when I was a child. I have always looked at what I was like when I was little and been really embarrassed that I did such sneaky, naughty things. Like, for example, the year I got roller skates for my birthday (don't read this, mom). A week before my birthday I "discovered" them in my mom's closet and spent the next few days roller skating around the house with them on. And then I had to act surprised when I received them. I'm hoping my mom never reads this so I never have to find out whether she knew or not. Then there was the Christmas (a few years earlier) when I "discovered" we were getting a Lite Brite for Christmas. But on Christmas morning, said gift was not under the tree. And I couldn't exactly figure out how to tell mom that she was missing a gift. We got it later that day (I think). There are other, more devious, things that I did that I won't tell you about, because my mom reads my blog and I want her to think I was a "good kid". HA! I think she already knows I'm not, but the illusion is fun.

Sometimes it feels like I am one of the only people on my staff that has actual bad things in their past. I remember one co-worker gasping that I had fingered someone on the way to work. She said she has NEVER fingered anyone. And I thought holy crap, I'm evil.

So now you have discovered that I am a very imperfect person. I have flaws that have flaws. I am flawed. I have a very devious mind. But I don't want to. I just do. If I could stop my mind from working the way it does, I would. And just so you know, being devious is very, very, very hard work. Or at least I like to make you THINK it is. Wah ha ha ha ha.

Dear Parents

It is that time of year again, when teachers have that glazed look while teaching, constantly looking over at the computer, longing to be sitting at it, typing nauseating comments about whether Johnny can interpret the author's "big idea" or whether Jane knows her ass from a hole in the ground. When you read your child's report card, remember that your child's teacher spent countless hours trying to find the perfect way to say your child is as dumb as a post without saying your child is as dumb as a post. I know report cards are filled with "teacher speak" that you probably don't understand. But, believe me, you really don't want to understand what we are writing. Because if you did, you would realize that your child is not nearly as spectacular as you think they are. Or there are those students who you just love to pieces, but you can't actually write that in a report card. I would love to write: "So-and-so is such an amazing student. If I could have him/her in my class for the next 3 years, it would make me incredibly happy. When I see his/her shining face, it makes me smile."

So here's my "report card" for the last term. See if you can figure out what I really mean to say.

Opening Comments
Mrs. Skye is a very sarcastic, enthusiastic teacher who loves to read out loud to her students. Occasionally she can be slightly less than friendly, especially when things don't go her way. We are working with her to ensure she keeps a positive attitude during class. She gets along well with her fellow teachers, but spends too much time socializing and not enough time getting her work done. She is really having difficulties keeping her desk and surrounding space neat, and she needs to work on her organizational skills. She often doesn't have the required marking completed on time, and therefore isn't prepared for class. She often throws together lessons, but doesn't put enough thought and time into completing them.

Behaviour
Mrs. Skye is struggling to complete her work on time and to be prepared for class. Far too frequently she is late for school, and the "traffic was bad" excuse is wearing thin. She needs to ensure she leaves her house early enough to avoid being late. This is affecting her ability to come to class prepared. She often requires one-on-one support to help her with her emotional and social issues, and these issues sometimes interfere with her teaching.

It is the recommendation of the New Westminster Board of Education that Mrs. Skye repeats grade 5 again next year. Until she gets it right.

A Matter of Bloody Perspective

Getting, or not getting, your period changes in its significance depending on your stage in life. When I (and I assume most other women) were in their twenties (and late teens) not getting your period on time was a significantly traumatic event. What if I'm pregnant??? How will I go on?? Oh please, let there be red in my underwear today. I'll even wear a panty-liner to entice you, oh beautiful menses.

Fast forward a decade or so, and you have the opposite reaction. Getting your period is now a significantly traumatic event. Especially to those people who are TTC (that's trying to conceive for web-based-geeks). There are the hundreds (dare I say thousands???) of dollars spent on pregnancy tests, even more for those of us impatient folks who need to know at least 4 days before their periods are due, and then need to do a few more after the first 2 negative ones, because this time it might be wrong (oh please tell me I'm not the only OC one out there). And do those tests need to be so expensive?? The doctor's office has them in bulk without all the fancy plastic crap surrounding them, and they do just the same thing. For probably a few bucks. Anyways, my point is that at this stage, you hope beyond hell that you don't get your period. And when it comes, and you've been trying for months, it is the most depressing bloody mess ever. And then you realize that all that stressing about being pregnant when you were young is just insane because getting pregnant has to be one of the hardest things in the world. But don't tell any teenagers that or they might be less careful.

To sum it all up, I can't wait until I get to the stage where getting my period has no significance at all except to signal that another round of feminine hygiene products will be used and disposed of. And also maybe that menopause has not yet begun. And that my body is tirelessly crusading for one last chance at reproduction. And that won't bother me because I will not be yearning for a positive $20 pregnancy test.

Sometimes I wish I made the sperm and someone else worried about everything else.