Monday, December 7, 2009

It occurred to me yesterday that my inspiration to write comes when I sit in my car, waiting for my soccer friends to show up to the park. If I didn’t cherish my MacBook so much, I’d haul it around everywhere I go.

I’ve actually been writing these past few months, just not something that is legible to the common eye. I’ve been honing my PHP/HTML/CSS/MySQL skills as a way to make money on the side. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll know enough to make a great living out of it.

Haha, I just remembered why I stopped writing on a daily basis… it always took me so long to write just a couple of paragraphs!

Monday, June 1, 2009

The other day my father joked that every man on Earth is reserved five women and one homo. I will conveniently ignore the part about the homo and say this: there’s probably a mofo out there enjoying my share of the female populace. Could it be Antonio Villaraigosa?

Friday, May 29, 2009

If I can only say one thing about kindergarteners, it is that they are easily impressed. Today I thought I came upon further proof when a student showed me something he wrote: “My tetr is btfo.” I looked at him and saw the best of intentions. Nonetheless, I responded, “I’m not beautiful!” He said, “No, not you, Ms. Roberts!” He was, of course, referring to my assistant. If you saw his mannerisms, you can imagine that my disappointment lasted only two seconds. Hehe.

I still cannot believe that there are only three weeks left in this school year. A teacher’s first generation of students is almost always the most special. And I have done a bad job of taking pictures to remember them by.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

After sitting on the kitchen table for almost a month, I finally made time to activate my new CITI Mastercard. The person on the other end of the phone spoke with an Indian accent. After telling me that my account had been activated, he proceeded to tell me about a special offer. Although my answer to “special offers” is always no, I didn’t want to cut him off, so I let him deliver all the lines. As I sat there listening, I wondered if speaking English was for him as troublesome as it sounded. As a man with an accent himself, I can tell you that talking non-stop is tiresome and at times even frustrating. Part of me let him speak his mind hoping it would lead him to ask himself, “Is this what I want to do for the rest of my life? Talk for a living, when every syllable I utter takes great care and effort?” After he paused, I said, “No, thank you.” He proceeded to read me another offer…

Sunday, May 3, 2009

It just may be that I have not experienced many things in life, but one of the saddest things I’ve seen is… a woman in her late 40s leading a young man by the hand into what may be their home — a grassy area next to a freeway. This is not a regular young man… he seems to have down syndrome. I can only imagine the plight of a mother who will likely pass to better life before her child can fend for himself.