Mama Said

I decided to spice up my Words for the Journey feature with some choice quotes from my Mama using recitethis.com.  Check it out-it's a lot of fun!

I can't remember who she was talking about but clearly he wasn't all that.

I'll Say It: Kids Are F*&%$#G gross

They are and you know it.

Source

I recently started substitute teaching-one needs a master's degree for that these days dontcha know.  I have worked three days in two different schools.  By the end of last week I contracted what I have come to believe is some sort of insidious plague that intends to devour me with mucus from the inside out.

The kicker is that despite my symptoms: sore throat, fever, general lack of energy, and headache-I look fine.  

When I am sick I want people to know it so they pity me and shower me with the attention I feel I deserve.

Douglass is No More

Can I rejoice a little bit.

I don't know what it says about me but I have not been able to give up on my beloved side part and swoop bang throughout my natural hair journey.  This stubborn refusal to budge has led to some truly unfortunate hair moments.

Image is my own

However, I am pleased to announce that the Frederick Douglass is no more.  My hair on top is finally long enough to not stick straight up-even when un-stretched.

This is a chunky, for me, twist out.  The fewest amount of twists I can get away with on my head is sixteen.  That's my magic number.

Funemployment and Academic Homelessness

Source

Today in funemployment: I sat in the car in the library parking lot and ate junk food while watching The Office on my Kindle.  This endeavor was made somewhat awkward by the fact that I have an interview at this very library in a couple of weeks.  I could have parked somewhere else to creepily eat my not Smartfood white cheddar popcorn, half-melted Reeses Minis, and Dr. Pepper . . . but the library has free wifi.

It struck me, while I furtively snacked in my car and wondered whether or not there are tumblrs devoted to pictures of fat people eating, that this very special brand of bourgeois daytime homelessness is shared by my fellow academics in the struggle.  Grad students, unemployed or underemployed teachers, nerds driven out into the sun by their parents, other members of the boomerang generation with nowhere to go, limited cash, and a desperate need to get the fuck out of their parents' house for a few hours.

While my hippie ass is working on getting a job, I am also working on a research project and writing better posts.  You know-topical, based on research and facts, less use of the word fuck.  It's either that or succumb to some sort of craft.

Planning Ahead

Moving to a brand new place means working out the logistics of all kinds of things.  I've been thinking about holidays a lot lately-mostly Halloween and Thanksgiving, but I saw this on Pinterest and decided to share.

Source: roomzaar.com via Sara on Pinterest

This is actually a pretty funny idea.  Cute-especially if you have kids who love How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  But on the real . . . if I put this up in my house I would scare myself to death every time I walked into the living room, lol.

Packing

How about a little poetry:

We are moving, I think.

I think we are moving.

I don't know where.

Well, I do.

But not where.

Chicken boxes piled high.

Grocery store freebies.

I am stress. We are stuff.

So . . .  enjoy this gif.

Source

Side Effects

I told you about the journaling thing right?

I should have included a disclaimer.  There might be side effects.

I picked up journaling as a tool to help me manage anxiety because life gets crazy sometimes.  This means that I only write in it when I am stressing hard.

This means, whenever Wes sees me scribbling in my book, he apologizes immediately and profusely.

Quickies: Afro Edition

Personal Photo

Check out my mother's awesome afro.  The shaping is excellent!

Long Time . . . .

No hear.  Wow.  You take one day off and it turns into a week.

My bad. 

Question . . . why do robes have pockets?  I heard someone else pondering the issue and now I can't get it out of my head. 

Quickies: True Story

As I was getting ready for work one morning I asked the Little Bit, "Do I look pretty?"

He looked at my hair, my raggedy sweat pants, and the busted tank top I was wearing and said in all seriousness, "Not yet."

Quickies: True Story

A vendor passed out cookies in heart shaped plastic baggies at the bridal expo.

Wes and I at the cookies as we waited for the fashion show to start.

I held up the empty plastic bag and told him . . .  "this looks like balls."*

*This might need a visual to be as funny as I think it is.  Or you need to be like, twelve.

Quickies: True Story

Once upon a time. . . I woke up feeling crappy and cranky.  I walked into the bathrom and said, "Shit. I'm out of fucking MIDOL!"

The next thing I heard was the front door opening and closing.  Fifteen minutes later, Wes came home with this.

In the economy size.  I think he had to go all the way to Sam's Club to get a big enough bottle, lol.