I long long time ago, in a blog post far away, I said that politics is one thing I will not comment on.
It’s the same as religion (although I have commented on that). It’s polarizing and complicated and everyone has their own opinions.
While I choose to judge others not on the color of their party but on the content of their character (and how they treat children and animals). I will not comment nor go into great detail about what color my party flag flies.
While stating a political opinion to the positive or negative might get me attention, it’s likely to lead down a path I would prefer not to travel.
If something good happens to me I automatically assume something is going to go horribly wrong.
And I assume that if that something good happens and I don’t start thinking of all the ways it could go wrong then it will definitely go horribly wrong.
When something, even the most minuscule, insignificant thing about my routine changes I assume the rest of the day will go wrong. Even though I have zero proof.
I heard once that if you are mean to a crow they remember and will take vengeance, and also tell their buddies and pass that knowledge down to their offspring. So if I see a crow, whether it be near me or not, I try not to look it in the eye and avoid hitting it if it’s in the road (I avoid hitting it anyway because doing so is mean). Because they remember faces.
Creepy.
I don’t believe black cats are bad luck but try to wish them well when they cross my path. Cats aren’t evil. Being worshiped in ancient times by Egyptians just gave them an ego.
Also, if I’m waiting on or hoping for some good news of some sort and I assume it’s going to work positively for me then I’m just gonna be wrong. So I try to be neutral or negative. Negative in a positive way. Like, “I’m not gonna get it, but that’s okay.”
And I try to always tell The Kid to have a “super amazing awesome wonderful fantastic day” at school every day I’m off work and watch her and her dad drive off because if I don’t and she has a bad day, it’s my fault.
I also kiss her goodbye every morning, whether she’s asleep or awake because she won’t have a good day if I don’t. She just won’t.
Everyone has little things they do that they don’t realize they do them for a reason and not because they just have to.
Oh and I almost forgot. If I see a penny that’s heads up, I pick it up. If I see it at work, I pick it up and put it somewhere else, so someone else has good luck. Because I’m paranoid that someone is gonna assume I’m stealing. And no matter where I am if I see a penny and it’s heads down I flip it over for the next guy. Spread the luck.
If I were to get some great, amazingly fantastic news, what would be the first thing I would do?
The first thing I would do would be to panic. I rarely get good news of such magnitude. Generally good news comes with bad news which is required to balance out the universe. I’ll panic because I won’t initially know what to do with myself, and then I would assume that something bad was also about to happen (that is usually my truck developing some new stressful issue).
The second thing I would do would be to promptly post panic contact my spouse. The Hubs is the first person I would want to tell. The original first person is on a different plane of existence now and she’d already know.
I would probably end up texting my husband but only because it’s easier and I hate phone calls. But hearing his voice excited for me would help dispel any lingering panic.
Next steps would all include wondering what happens next, who else should I tell, and “what am I gonna do with all these limes?”
The thing is, I’m sitting here writing this and I’m thinking about a thing that could be good news and I cannot help but wonder what would be the first way to avoid the stress of what would happen if I get good news.
Tomorrow I report for my initial jury duty meeting. Orientation? Jury Draft Day? I don’t know.
It’s funny how many people told me “you could just throw the paper away they’d never know you actually got it.” And I always told them, “no but I wanna go, it’ll be interesting!” In reality I’m so afraid of unintentionally breaking the law that I think it’s physically impossible to break it, seriously, on purpose.
By seriously I mean, break a law that might result in jail time.
Listen I know all those “do crimes” memes are funny, but for real: don’t.
But really, I listen to enough true crime podcasts to think it might be interesting to sit on an actual trial.
Not anything where children or animals were harmed but maybe Jimmy and Francine got a little too tipsy on that porch pop and they thought their neighbor Bill’s old dodge with the bed removed would do sweet donuts in the for sale grocery store parking lot.
So they borrowed it without telling and accidentally drove up a telephone pole. They had to jump about six feet down and ran off. They got caught about a quarter mile away when they tried to go in the gas station without shoes.
Bill didn’t even wanna press charges on the truck theft. He was just impressed about the telephone pole. And no one got hurt except the phone company’s bottom line with the outage.
Listen that’s all fiction but would that NOT make the funniest trial?
Twenty years ago, I was starting the second semester of my freshman year of college. I was a quiet, shy, little bit lonely kid. I didn’t have many friends, and barely spoke up in public situations.
And I had zero expectations that I wouldn’t become the teacher I was going to college to become. In fact it never once occurred to me that I wouldn’t be a teacher, writing on the weekend and summers. The irony is that it had occurred to me that I would never find someone to love me, to marry me. Someone to have children with.
I had planned it all out. I would graduate, get a teaching job, and eventually adopt a child. I would turn thirty and have a ceremony celebrating myself. I even had the ambition to go back to school and get the required certification to become a principal or even a professor. And my free time when I wasn’t teaching or learning? I’d be a writer. I’d be doing two things I loved. I would be happy.
Twenty years later, here I am, working a retail job where I’m completely replaceable, only valued and appreciated for the work I do right then, at the whim of whatever manager who gets paid four times more than I do, who likely has never done the work I do, making changes to the job and my schedule at the drop of a hat.
I don’t have the energy or the willpower to not only do what I like to do but do what I need to do. My body has suffered from 7-8 hours on my feet on a concrete floor.
I’m too old to just quit my job and try to find something new, I don’t have the motivation to finish or start things I need too. I dread waking up on days I have to go to work.
Wouldn’t it be lovely to travel back in time just to feel the way I felt twenty years ago? The hopefulness, excitement for the future. Planning and preparing for something, dreaming.
Most of the people I work with are young, much younger than me, they have a chance, they still have the energy, they have time. They can move on and move up and leave me in the dust. I am just the scenery along the path to their future. A fellow prisoner of retail, held hostage by a job we all hate. It’s too late for me, but not for them.
You can call me Crys, or C. Or whatever. I’ve been called worse.
This is my blog. There is a great deal here more than a blog, there are unfinished stories, there are non-fiction articles, there are depressed ramblings, there are stickers, there is a significant amount of nonsense. And all of it is here simply because it brings me joy.
It is all still here, despite the fact that I have not yet decided if there is a really great reason to keep it or not. There isn’t, except that it brings me joy to have it around, whether I visit the dusty old attic of this blog or not. But here I am again, and away we go.
Who am I?
I am many things, or at least that’s what I tell myself. I am a mother, first and foremost. My daughter is the perfection and chaos and stress that I welcome each and every single day. She is the number one reason I am still meandering about on this oddly shaped ball of nonsense we call our home planet.
I also like to pretend I am a writer, an artist of some sort, a crafter, a maker and a creator. I write things and I don’t finish them most of the time, I enjoy creating art in some forms, sometimes. I like to make jewelry with beads and wire and cord and more beads and findings. I design and print stickers. None of the previous endeavors have garnered me any sort of significant income, even if I would totally make it my career if I could.
I am also a college graduate. I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in elementary education. If I had made better decisions in the past I would be teaching now. Well, if we are being technical, I would be sleeping now, considering its 12:25am at the time of writing this. Of all the things that floated around in my noggin as I was growing up, I wanted to be two things the most. A writer and a teacher. Boy, if I could turn back time.
My day job, however, is retail. While I choose not to name my employer, if one cared enough, it wouldn’t be hard to figure it out. However, I try my best to not speak about them in any form on the internet. Things like that can sneak up and bite you.
Likes
When I am not stuck in an endless scroll fest of <short form videos> or depressed, I enjoy a number of things. I like to draw on my iPad using the Procreate app and my handy dandy apple pencil. I like to read, although I’ve been unable to make myself finish more than two books in a few years. Remember that depression thing I mentioned before. I do love to write, but I think I’ve discovered that if it feels like it’s become an obligation, I tend to avoid it. Or ram smack dab into a brick wall that I cannot escape. I also enjoy making and editing videos for the short-form video app and the Tube. But that obligation thing is the reason I have several unfinished videos.
I also love my non-Stanley water cup and my ice maker. I like stickers (even if I didn’t make them). I like Zero bars and almond milk and sweetener with a little coffee in it. I know I would struggle if I didn’t have my apple watch, and my heated faux fur throw is a GAME CHANGER. I also love my off-brand Crocs, sleep, and snacks.
Dislikes
People who are mean to animals and children. Dealing with the public, being sick, migraines, money, adulthood. My stupid truck is stupid too. I hate being cold unless I’m trying to sleep and have several blankets (current count is three). I don’t like talking about the weather (especially snow) unless it’s nice out or I have to avoid it, I don’t like talking about politics unless I know there’s not going to be an argument. I am also not the biggest fan of religion, though I don’t judge people for having one.
My Single Biggest Accomplishment Last Year
The Spite Diet. It sounds dumb but I actually lost about 30 pounds in about a year’s time. It was mostly because I wanted to prove to myself and my doctor that I didn’t need medication in order to do it, and I didn’t. But due to a number of extenuating circumstances, I forgot the diet completely and gained most if not all (I haven’t checked) of my weight back. I blogged about the diet a few times and it got some interest. But that was the only thing that got interest.
But, I guess, if I gained the weight back, it was more of a fail than an accomplishment.
Why am I here?
Like on the blog or just in general?
On the blog? Because I enjoy writing in many forms. I like writing about my life, my happy and my sad, my anger and my glee. I like writing about lesson’s I’ve learned and learning things and sharing them. I like giving advice, not that much of what I’ve dealt with is relatable for other people. Writing it out helps me work it out in my head, no matter what it is. And I like that someone somewhere out there might benefit from what I’m laying down, you know?
As for why I’m here on the planet? Well, my kid is number one. I’m still here because I created her with my body and grew her for nine months and brought her into this world for my heart to bond with and become so violently and gleefully attached to that I would literally commit felonies or even murders for. I am still here because she needs me and will remain so.
As for whether or not I have a purpose outside of motherhood, I know not. I don’t know if there is such a thing for humans as a higher purpose. And if there is I don’t think I will ever know it. And that’s something else about me. I don’t know if I’ll ever know.
I could quit my day job, which I despise. I could do what I would like to and go into a school and work some kind of job there, where I’d be teaching adjacent. I would have evenings off, weekends off, and holidays and breaks. I would have the same schedule as my kid and I’d have time to do things I enjoy, and I’d be less depressed.
I have a headache and a lingering cough that’s been around for a few weeks.
I’ve had one can of Pepsi today.
I don’t know why I’m writing this.
I literally just heard what sounded like my cat leaping from a great height. I know I should investigate. But I’m so tired. Crap.
Ok nothing seems amiss. My cat was probably being a doofus. I think the universe is conspiring against me being cozy under my heated throw.
I do in fact have a flat sheet, a quilt, a fuzzy throw, AND a heated throw over me right now. My hope was that the warmth from the throw would ease some of my aches.
After eight hours at work, on my feet everything from my waist down hurts. And for some reason my big toe.
It’s been a rough few months six months year for me. While I’m thankful that nothing too terrible has occurred, little things that feel enormous have accumulated into a substantially sized ball of awful.
Many moons ago, my grandmother gave me a crap ton of crafting stuff. Included in said crafting stuff was a pair of tiny folding scissors. I liked them so much that I tied a piece of yarn to each side so I could wear them around my neck while I crocheted.
I lost those ones and found a new pair at a store in a sewing kit. Did I need everything in said kit, heck no. Did I NEED those scissors? Absolutely-frickin-tootly.
Guess what? I lost those.
A month or so ago, I was doing some work at work, duh, and thought, what I could really use are some tiny scissors. You know? For my pocket.
So I ordered some on Temu. Well, first I had some in my cart and was going to order them but wanted to justify the purchase by ordering something else as well. Well those sold out and I forgot about them.
Fast forward. I’m riding Temu Christmas and I’m like. NEED.
Present Tense
So, after I finalize my order on November 9th, I receive a message saying, basically, “Hey, we’re sending the order in two different shipments to ‘make it easier’. Here we’re gonna put these tiny scissors in a 9×7 inch bag, mmkay?”
THE SCISSORS ARE NO BIGGER THAN TWO INCHES LONG. Like, overkill much?!
My co-worker says, “They’re probably doing that so it gets through customs?” So I think cool should be no big deal right.
I also ordered a small cylindrical METAL thermos. You’d think that would look more sus than a pair of folded up folding scissors.
But apparently they’re less sus than a package with five other items which includes a metal cylinder. anyway, the other half of that order, or other 99% I should say, is delivered on November 18th. Everything is fine. The thermos is for my kid’s noodles. She has a problem.
I however get another notification. The scissors are stuck in customs. They arrived in the US in November but were stuck in customs. Either customs is super swamped or these scissors have warrants in six other countries.
After days of Temu telling me, “Sorry bro, they’re custom’s problem now” or “dude, there’s been no updates in five days, we’re gonna hit up the carrier for the deets” (more or less) I finally get an update.
But it is via USPS and not Temu, initially. USPS says they’ve received the package and it’s on its way to the facility. And then half an hour later Temu texts me like they knew all along.
Now, Mr Temu Man, you owe me that $5 credit that you promised if it isn’t delivered by November 21st. Cause it’s 8:15pm, Charleston is a ways away, and the post office is closed. Bruh.
Delivery date has been updated for November 24th. Black Friday. I don’t know about you all, but I have zero plans to be checking my mail that day. I am employed by a retail establishment that is open that day.
I, dear readers, have once again decided that I need to try to get back into education. While the ones of you who have just stumbled upon my blog don’t know, there might be two people who have been here before that do know that I have a bachelor’s degree in elementary education. From an accredited institution, no less.
Yes, I am and have been for almost fifteen years now, working retail and most days I don’t completely loathe it. Just a firm dislike. Mostly. And also yes, this is one of my (if not my only) true regrets in life. Not getting a teaching job when I had the chance, is something I will forever regret.
The journey to education is hindered by my long expired “statement of eligibility”. The SOE, which is what I will refer to it as henceforth, is what accredited universities give newly graduated bachelors degree earners in my state. Its a provisional license, meant solely to get one in the door of a school, and interview for a position.
Last I checked you had five years on the SOE to earn your masters degree. There used to be a KTIP year after you get your first job, where you earn your license. I feel like I should do a bit more research on this before i finalize this post, but we all know me, here and I probably wont.
The issue is my SOE is so expired it has not only passed the Use by date, but it has rotted and returned to the earth as the good Lort Jebus has intended. Dust to Dust, ashes to ashes.
I have yet to find that there is an expiration date on the expiration date, as in whether it can be too expired. They last five years. I graduated from college in 2007. It expired 11 years ago. How old is too old, Kentucky?
The next question I have for the universe or anyone that will listen and answer it, is how likely is a school system to hire a potentially over 40 teacher? Not one who went to school on a financial aid for older non-traditional students, but one who neglected her education and let her degree and SOE dry up like an old jack-o-lantern on a porch step.
Am I wasting my time and effort on this? I try to tell myself I’m just doing it to see if I can pass it. But I know I don’t believe myself. I know I want it, I want to pass it and be a teacher more than just about anything I’ve ever wanted. But I know the likelihood is small.
But is there a chance?
Anyway, the whole point of this post was to introduce a series. Come on this new old adventure with me. Study along with me for the praxis. I will introduce the tests, in some cases section by section, and I will go through each one by following along with the study guides and materials provided for free on the Praxis (ETS) website.