Boring Work Article

Warning note: This post will probably bore everyone aside from me. If you read it anyway and find yourself bored, you brought all that on yourself.

I'm working on an interesting piece for the paper that employs me. Normally, I don't write about work here or on social media at all, because I love my job and would not want to risk losing it because I made a dumb dick joke or something.

This is different, because I think this work is important. (I mean, I think all of my work is important; it's just that this piece reflects the human condition better than anything I've ever written, and I haven't even written it yet.)

It's a series focusing on the expectations and pressures high school students face today compared to their teachers, administrators and parents, which began as one article about my personal experience sitting in on a few high school classes. Fortunately, the principal of one of the schools I visited offered me the opportunity to talk to students. From these interviews, I decided to write a three-part series. The first article will be from the perspective of administrators, with the second describing the experience of teachers and the third focusing completely on the students. This structure, I hope, will provide excellent juxtaposition between kids and those who were once kids.

I'm going to speak with the superintendents, principals, teachers and students from three different school districts in hugely disparate income brackets. I think this is really important because we're all a product of our family and location; I could see these variables setting a kid from a low-income family apart from a child in upper-middle class. (That said, I really hope the differences aren't a determining factor on the kids' future. I'd really like to believe that we aren't simply a product of our circumstances, but I say that as a person who grew up in the middle class. This reminds me of one of my larger fears in doing this article: realizing that I can't ever resonate with other classes because of my - albeit suppressed - economic bias.)

Starting with the lowest income bracket, I initially feared going into this project without concealing my identity. I felt it would be difficult to get a genuine reaction out of the kids if I approached them as Samantha the Reporter. This fear was partially confirmed during my interviews, but I quickly found that you can tell a whole lot about a person from what he or she doesn't say. And those interviews, just so you know, were heartbreaking.

I don't want to divulge much about my research so far, since I'm less than a third of the way done with all my interviews and haven't even conceived an angle to write the first part from. I will say that talking to these kids has already altered my perception of their generation.

I told myself that I would go into this article without any preconceived notions but found myself surprised every time one of the kids said something I didn't expect. I'm only 23 years old. I thought I knew these kids.

I'm beginning to think I don't know anything at all, and I'm happy about that. After all, that's how I know I'm learning and evolving.

I'll keep you guys updated on this article as it progresses if you'd like that sort of thing. If not, I'll continue telling stories about my cat and my wayward love life (B.G. - Before Gideon).

As an awkward closing, I'd like to ask that all of you treat everyone you meet with kindness. Just because you can't see someone struggling doesn't mean it isn't happening.

The Splits

Telling break-up stories is fun, if you're into pretending your real tears are comically fake while firing off a round of completely on-the-nose self-deprecating jokes. 

Fortunately for all of you, I am totally into that. Unfortunately, I have only one truly interesting break-up story. (But I promise you, it's pretty good.)

So I was in high school and I caught my first boyfriend, quickly realizing how uncomfortable it is to date someone who wears the same pair of sweatpants every day, performs impromptu rain dances if it looks cloudy enough outside and places one of his worn, sweaty socks on his hand to speak through him. Hey, I never said I made smart decisions. 

We broke up in one of those fantastically dramatic teenager kind of ways, and I will forever thank him for letting me scratch that off my bucket list. See, we got into a fight - and, trust me, he was at fault for this fight - and instead of talking it through, I drove off and ignored all his calls. By "I drove off," I mean that I ran over his foot in the process.

I listened to his voice mail, where he said with resignation, "I guess this means we're breaking up." (He was crying on his messages, which gave me a huge ego boost.) I called him back before deciding to call it quits for real, and he said something so incredibly rude and insensitive that it transcended insensitivity and somehow became hilarious. 

"I can't believe I'm breaking up with you," I told him. 

He paused. "Well," he said. "Technically, I broke up with you."

And that, my friends, is how I broke up with a boy who habitually wore a surgeon's mask to avoid contracting any sickness. Sorry, I think I got that wrong. Let me try it again.

And that, my friends, is how a boy who habitually wore a surgeon's mask to avoid contracting any sickness broke up with me.   

(If you're reading this, ex-boyfriend-who-I-will-not-name-because-I-am-classy, you should know this is all in good fun and I'm sure you've grown out of your sock puppet habit by now.)

Sam-ily Matters (With Less Urkel)

I remarked to Gideon a few days ago that sometimes I feel like I engineer situations so that my life can resemble a sitcom as much as possible. Though it catalyzes my creativity, this is a very bad thing when I'm supposed to focus on a conversation but instead keep thinking of all the zany things I could say to transform the interaction from normal to awkward. Of course, I never aim to be too awkward; I'm not in a British sitcom or aspiring to create the chick version of Jackass. I need to retain some sense of normalcy, after all.

I've got several examples of my sitcom brain - Sitcom Brain, I think, is the scientific term for this disease - and for the sake of making my life easier, I'll try to boil it all down to a list.

1. When I visited Gideon for the first time as a single woman and we kissed, he said, "Wow, you smell so good." I just shrugged it off and responded, "Oh, I just showered." But that is not true. I spent two hours that day applying lotion and perfume and oil to make my hair smell like lavender. I even shaved the stray hair on my big toe just in case he decided to zero in on that. Anyway, in my mind, I imagined the exchange followed by a sped-up montage of me meticulously showering and spritzing and the like. The clip I imagined of me shaving my big toe really entertained me, so of course I started laughing like a madwoman. Immediately after I kissed Gideon for the first time. You can see how this might be a problem.
2. My main coworker always asks me what I did over the weekend, and I consistently lie to him so that my life appears really interesting. Today, I told him that I spent the weekend drinking with friends when I really attended Gideon's siblings' basketball game and played board games with his family. If this doesn't sound awkward to you, keep in mind that I said, "Oh, ya know, just went to the pub with all my bros to bang out those shots." 
3. I have trained my friend Kelby to do a synchronized booty-bump every time something good or even slightly above average happens. We also have a bit where he puts on gloves and pretends to strangle me and I say something about sparing me for various reasons. (Often I cite all those children in the orphanage who need me to feed and clothe them.)
4. If I'm driving my car and I have a passenger who seems kind of uptight, I like to sing really obnoxious 80's ballads at them. My singing voice is terrible and I'm a very passionate singer, so you can imagine how uncomfortable this makes people. Sometimes, if a person is showing little discomfort, I like to his/her name into the song while using my iPod as a microphone.  

I'm not saying that you shouldn't trust me, but if I ever tell you something that seems a little far-fetched, I have probably made it up in an attempt to get laughs from live audience that watches my life all hours of the day.

Too lazy to title

I'm still here, just incredibly busy. How busy, you ask?

So busy that when I woke up this morning and started thinking about everything I had to do this week, I had a panic attack and ended up applying my makeup while shaking and internally screaming. I didn't scream aloud because the cat was sleeping and you know how I treasure his REM cycle.

Anyway, things are better now that I'm at work and three quarters of the way through my day. I don't want to be a Debbie Downer, so instead of spending my time complaining, I'm going to list all the things that are going really well in my life:

1. My job. I am good at it and I enjoy it. 
2. My Gideon. We actually celebrated our one year anniversary last Monday. Since we're strapped for cash right now, I left him Post Its all around the apartment detailing the things I love about him, with a Post It timeline of our romance in the living room. I also sent him delivery sushi. At this point, you're probably thinking, "Woah, I totally want to date you." You'd change your mind pretty quickly if you heard me cursing at reality TV show contestants as if they could hear me. 
3. My money situation. I'm not rich but I can pay my bills and save some, so I think I'm lucky.
4. My family. They're all pretty great, but I treasure my mother and nana above all. They made me who I am.
5. My cat. He's so cute that I let him jump on me after being outside in the cold, cold air. That's love.
6. My friends. I'm so lucky to have childhood friends (Dora and Kasey), college friends (won't name any just in case I leave someone out, so you know who you are) and friends I've met through Gideon who understand and love me. 
7. My Sharona.
8. My Lost obsession. Ten years strong and counting. 

So what my ink pen exploded on my khaki pants when I got to work this morning? I've got a savings account. 

Starting the Year Off Right-ish

Well, it's 2015.

The only difference between 2014 and 2015 so far is my newfound obsession with The Celebrity Apprentice. I mean, I have always liked the show, even when it featured real people and not burned out celebrities trying to reclaim their notoriety. (No offense to the goddess Leeza Gibbons or my best friend Gary Busey. Or Lisa Rinna, who is amazing and starred in one of my favorite evening soap operas ever, Melrose Place. By the same coin, I'll exclude beautiful Ian Ziering and the wonderful Joan Rivers. I am realizing very quickly that I carry a flame exclusively for 90's television stars.)

I like the show even more now, though, because I can force Gideon to watch it with me. When we watched the premiere episode Monday night, he casually remarked, "I like this show. Is there a second episode up?"

I took this to mean, "Why, this is my favorite show ever and I want to watch it nonstop. Let's get married and adopt Gary Busey so that we can have a child with experience on the show without having to wait a couple decades for the thing to grow up." In all fairness, it's not too far off from what he really meant.

I can't understand anything he says, but isn't that like all infants?

Last night, we watched the second episode, in which articulate but baby-faced Kevin Jonas attempted to go head-to-head with Geraldo Rivera and predictably lost. I attribute part of this loss to Donald Trump's obvious friendship with Rivera. Both are pretty Republican and pretty outspoken. They've probably had really expensive scotch together while discussing how all the paupers drink beer and wear bandanas. 

I doubt Kevin Jonas has ever spent a crazy night with Trump crediting conservative policies with saving America. That, not his failed leadership or his choice to bring hot hot hot Ian Ziering with him into the boardroom, is why he was sent home. (Let me quickly note that I am not dissing conservative politics, simply pointing out a bond between Trump and Rivera. Though I personally think Republican policy is stupid, it's up to Republicans to be stupid, not me to criticize them for it.)

Anyway, in the second half of the episode the teams were asked to set up a tasting for some frozen food company. Terrell Owens led Team Vortex and Vivica A. Fox (AKA the most amazing sassy woman in the world) led Team Infinity. Team Infinity obviously won because Fox dressed up as a male gym coach, complete with a mustache and a gruff voice, and yelled at all the consumers to eat their food and to enjoy it, damn it! She is my idol.

In the boardroom, T.O. brought Rivera and inappropriately hilarious comedian Gilbert Gottfried back with him.  You'll all remember Gottfried for his poorly timed joke about 9/11, or maybe because he voices the Afflac duck. He's not everyone's cup of tea, but I think he's fearless and I admire people who speak their minds. He is also Gideon's favorite contestant of the season. Or, rather, was Gideon's favorite contestant of the season.

Trump sent him home presumably because of a comedy routine gone wrong during the tasting. (A snippet of the routine: "I have two children and they are a miracle. The miracle is a woman had sex with me TWICE." I am amazed by this man.) But since Trump the hypocrite has all but called Obama the n-word on Twitter, he blamed the firing on Gottfried's lack of passion for the show. 

Gideon and I were both sad. 

I think I'll start doing recaps of the show, because I enjoy all the contestants and I enjoy ridiculing Donald Trump even more. And it'll give me more blog material. I do hate it when all you readers (read: my mother and Gideon) go hungry.