Edited to Add:

My mom wanted to add that in my toddler years, she once dressed me as a little chinaman. She put a basket upsidedown on my head, painted a "fu man cho" moustache on my face, I wore a tiny kimono and silk pants. She thinks she may have had a stocking on my head to make me look like I didn't have any hair.

I have NO memory of this.

My brother once was went (again, as a toddler) a ukrainian cleaning lady. A feather duster, a wig and an apron, along with some ukrainian slang. He was a HIT with the old women at the doors giving out candy.

I asked my mom, "what were you for halloween". She reminded me that my grandparents owned a hotel when she was growing up, so obviously the only thing they had to use was old sheets. She answered, "fuck, I went as a ghost every year". Apparently, my grandparents would throw a white hotel sheet over her, cut some eyes and put an elastic band around her neck to keep it in place ... every year. That sounds kind of unsafe to me.

What was your favorite halloween costume?

Pugs as Bugs, and other Calamities

[my little heart stoppeth]


Ummm, shut UP. Dogs in halloween costumes are priceless. I find them so much more interesting than kids in halloween costumes. I mean, who wants to see another kid dressed up like batman? Halloween should be for dogs only. We should parade them around and have giant festival-like competitions that will boost the ego of their owners. Because, uh, why else do we dress up out dogs?

Here are some fav examples from my extensive collection of "dogs in costume"

Three Headed Dog
Dog as Yoda
Pug as Bug
Dogs as various bits and pieces of McDonalds
Dog as Lobster
Dog as Monkey DancerDog Pumpkin with one sharp tooth

Now tell me, I beg of you - did that not make your entire week?

This is Halloween

All of my formative Halloweens were experienced in a suburb of Calgary, where middle-class families lived when they wanted to raise their children in a nice, safe neighbourhood. We had almost 400 kids visit our door every year - a constant stream of witches and devils and carebears and power rangers. In Calgary, it always snowed before the first halloween, so you had to be able to wear your snowsuit underneath your costume. This meant no gypsies. Sometimes it dipped into the -20s, which meant that one of your parents had to drive block to block in the mini van, allowing you to jump in and stick your fingers into the heating vent until you could feel them again. This was typically my mom's job. My mom and stepdad used to answer the door with pantyhose stretched over their head ... I wish I had a picture of it. I wish I had a picture of a lot of my halloweens.

Here are the costumes that I can remember I had:
Papa Smurf (I wore my smurf PJs and my mom painted my face blue)
A tap dancing cat (made by grandma)
A princess (made by grandma)
A Cow (full body cow suit with head piece and udders ... priceless)
A Witch (complete with face nose and warts stuck all over my face)

After I was 11, Halloween gets a bit blurry. For a few years, I would hand out candy or help to take my sisters out trick-or-treating. After that, my friends started to throw halloween parties that were always a lot more fun to attend than hanging out at home with your parents.

I was never a huge halloween person, but I'm sure that once I'm a parent I'll be one of those fanatical moms who spends hundreds of hours hand sewing her kids' costumes. It just seems like the kind of person I would be. But as for the ghools and the ghosts? Give me Valentine's Day, any day. I don't like being frightened and I don't like the dark and everything that goes along with it (except kissing in the dark, which isn't halloween related at all!)

Wishing you a safe Halloween, whatever you might be doing. I will probably be spending it working on my lesson planning, and that is just fine with me.
-Bri

Best Foot Forward

School, so far, has been a totally energizing experience. I never realized how little I have in common with teenagers (seriously ... I thought that maybe I was out of touch WHILE I was in high school, but now I completely realize how hopeless I am). I gave my kids a poll today to get to know them a little bit better. Some of the answers were shocking. Some of them I didn't understand... like, literally they make no sense to me. I realize now why one teacher told me "don't ever ask high school kids to write personal journals for you - you don't want to read what they have to say". I mean, I just don't GET pop-culture anymore. All of the boys have long, greasy hair. All of the girls wear skinny jeans tucked into high top sneakers and shiny little winter jackets with their bling bling sticking out all over the place and their overdone make up and their wild hair. I had to live through the 80s once already!

Other than that, life continues to drag me by the feet, never feeling like I have enough hours in the day. I have so much I want to get done in terms of lesson planning, but I realize that I could be up until 2 in the morning cutting out pieces of fake money for the stock market game and totally burn myself out.

OH! I totally forgot the point of this post. That's how out of it I am. My mentor teacher is 30 years old, unmarried and totally has her life together. What I like best about her is that she wears the most AMAZING shoes. Totally unpractical, pointy-toed stilettos. high heeled pink pumps. Snakeskin cowboy boots. I feel like there might be hope for me. Clearly, she's making enough to be able to afford her manicures and gorgeous hair and 300 dollar shoes. It makes me excited. I will be a teaching in the lap of luxury. I will have exotic plants growing in my classroom. I will have a small class dog that will wear funny costumes and have an aggressive name like 'Brutus'. Maybe a teacher really can have it all.

(and for those of you who dropped out of teacher's college and don't want to hear about teaching any more, dammit ... well, there will be something else here posted when I catch my breath and sleep for more than 5 hours at a time)

B.

Teacher

Teaching, real teaching in front of a classroom of high school students who don't want to be there and don't necessarily care about the sensitive and idealistic girl who feels like a fraud standing in front of them, starts on Monday. I am prepared, I guess. I have purchased appropriate teacher clothes. I have studied the chapters. I am developing my unit and lesson plans. I will buy groceries tomorrow to pack a lunch that I will eat in the teacher lounge with all the other teachers.

What I'm not prepared for is the commitment. When people ask me "what do you do?" I automatically respond with "I'm a teacher", and then follow up with "at least, I'm studying to be one". But the secret is out - I've committed myself to the profession. I care about teaching and being in the classroom in a way that I can't necessarily understand, much less explain. I feel angry at people who go to teacher's college because they're bored, or work in classrooms because they like having the summers off (which, yes, I'm looking forward to). But it's scary to say "this is what I am".

I'm probably not much different than anyone else. When I was younger, I was convinced that I was going to do something exceptional with my life. I knew nothing other than success, essentially. I breezed through school, tested at the 99.999 percentile of intelligence, aced my college entrance exams and was basically told that the world was my oyster. I could be extraordinary - all I had to do was set my sights. I decided I wanted to be a pediatric plastic surgeon. I loved biology in high school. I got 100% in my grade 12 science classes. I wanted to be a doctor. Everyone told me I was capable of doing it. Then, I got to Queen's, missed a lecture of biology, fell totally behind in the course, panicked because I wasn't perfect, and dropped the course all together. That's my secret - if I'm not doing it perfectly, I don't want to do it at all. I had to choose another path.

I'm still not convinced that I'm following the road that is going to bring me an extraordinary future. I feel like I'm bursting with potential and passion for so many things around me, and curiosity and faith and humanity. I feel special. I feel destiny weighing on me. Am I doing the right thing? On Monday, I am opening one door and closing many others. I will not be a famous teacher. I will not make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. I will not change the world. I desperately want all of these things. I want some sort of divine understanding. I want an amazing life.

It's hard for me to write this. I value humbleness in myself and try to practice it. But I also wish so badly for extraordinary to find me. I think everyone must feel this way sometime. That they just need a chance.

I am excited about teaching. I may not change the world, but if I'm lucky, it might change my world. I have so much respect for educators and for the profession. I just hope that I can find the exceptional, every day that I go in to the classroom. I hope that I'm in the right place and that I find the success I've been working so hard for. I hope that the kids don't laugh, or ignore me. I hope that I am enough.

THANKS!

Just wanted to give a well deserved shout out to my friend and former housemate Alana (shown above with her lookalike boyfriend Michael). Alana got super fit this summer and became sexily skinny. As such, tonight she donated all of her old clothes to me. I got a full suit, a double breasted peacoat, pants, sweaters, tanks and blouses and jeans. I am fully outfitted to be a not-as-skinny teacher and I am very grateful!

Cheers to Alana. Wish me luck tomorrow on my first day as a mini-teacher in a real high school ... I can't wait!
B.

Flames 4 Leafs 5 (OT) - LIVE!

Going to Calgary Flames games used to be a totally common night out for me. In the 90s, the Flames were a mediocre team and tickets were easy to get and more affordable than paying to go to a movie. But after I moved to Ontario to go to university, I didn't get the chance to see the Flames play for a long, long time. The most recent game I saw was in March of 2001. Last night, I got a chance to see them again. Does this situation call for face paint? I think it does! You'll notice that I'm dating a hardcore Maple Leafs fan. You'll also notice that he didn't have either a "Conference Champions" flag OR face paint on. You will ALSO notice that he's a bit of a hater. I love him anyway. Go Steve Go.
The best part of the night was that my housemate Kelsey (seen below) is ALSO from Calgary, and her boyfriend Bill is (like Steve) a fan of the Leafs. We all got together before the game for dinner and Kels and I got a chance to take some pro-Calgary pictures (we call our house "Little Calgary"!)

The Flames didn't win - but they played a fantastic game and showed a lot of the grit and speed that make them so exciting to watch. I loved going to the game. The best part was seeing the hundreds of Flames fans that live in Toronto. It wasn't necessarily like the "Sea of Red" that the Saddledome is famous for (I didn't take this picture, but it's awesome!) ...
But it was exciting to hear an audible buzz in the ACC every time the Flames scored. It was a fantastic night, and Steve didn't even rub it in. Go Flames Go!

A Prayer for Wild Thing Willy

A few weeks ago I was settling down into my luxurious bed for a long and refreshing sleep. I plumped my pillows. I got my feet all cozy. I tucked in my legs. I stretched up to the ceiling with my fingers. And then, I watched as something the size of a very small dog venture out from underneath my dresser and scuttle across the floor to the small space behind my desk and under the heating vent. This thing was huge. I wasn't even sure that it wasn't some sort of alien. I decided not to go after it. In fact, I decided to shake out my sheets and blankets in a panicked frenzy while screaming and spinning around, terrified that my visitor may have brought friends. I then created a "giant beast" seal in my covers, sectioning myself off from all the awful arachnids waiting to attack me in my sleep.

Weeks past. Today I came home from class and while dropping my bag on my bed, the little bugger decided to make another appearance. He casually crawled out from under my dresser (which I can only assume has been his home for quite some time) right between my feet. I finally got a good look at him. I watched him pause. "You little fucker. That's it fucker. You're mine". I talked to him, then flipped a cup over his giant body. Some of his feet stuck out. I tried to get them all in, but he kept running. Clearly this guy doesn't have a lot of experience dealing with the law.

This is what he looked like:





I named him Wildthing Willy.




I decided that we both needed some breathing room and a chance to think about how we were going to negotiate our relationship. I put him in a "time out" under the cup. Apparently, I didn't give him enough breathing room. Wildthing Willy, the hideous house centipede is dead. I thought I would come on here and apologize to god that I killed another living thing, even though it has 15 pairs of legs. I'm not sorry, but I do feel bad for the little guy. He can't help being an ugly carnivore. Rest in Peace underneath your cup Willy. You were never understood, but you were loved (probably, by another Wildthing)

The Fair

In light of the fact that it snowed yesterday, I went into my storage boxes and pulled out my lovely blue tweed wool winter jacket. I shook it out. I pulled it on. I attempted to do up the buttons ... and like a pair of jeans from high school, I couldn't quite get them done up. My beautiful winter jacket appearently doesn't fit me right now.

This is embarassing.

I feel a bit like the rat, Templeton from Charlotte's Web. He goes to the fair, and sings this great song:

A fair is a veritable smorgasbord orgasbord orgasbord
After the crowds have ceased
Each night when the lights go out
It can be found on the ground all around
Oh, what a ratly feast!

Melon rinds and bits of hotdogs
Cookie crumbs and rotton cotton candy
Melted ice cream, mustard dripplings
Moldy goodies everywhere

Lots of popcorn, apple cores
Bananna peels and soggy sadwiches
And gobs of gorgeous gook to gobble at the fair

A fair is a veritable smorgasbord orgasbord orgasbord
After the gates are shut
Each night when the lights go out
It can be found on the ground all around
That's where a rat can glut, glut, glut, glut!

That was sort of like me this summer. I worked in the office of the CNE National Fair, and for 35 days, I worked 13 hours a day and ate nothing but the following (all of which was free)
- fudge
- deep fried perogies
- greasy chinese food
- home made potato chips
- french fries
- pulled pork sandwiches
- hamburgers
- hot dogs
- ice cream
- corndogs

Seriously - 3 times a day, my boss would take us out for more greasy food. I gained more than 10 pound over the last 6 weeks of my job ... an incredible feat, really. I feel totally unlike myself. I can't believe my coat doesn't fit. What am I going to wear to school this morning? I'm not proud to be a templeton ... but it was fun while it lasted. I clearly ate myself sick on fair food. Now I just need to figure out a way to keep warm on my walk to OISE! (and make it to the gym today).

5 Ways to Make me Angry

Sorry for the recent lack of posts. I have no excuse, other than that my life is busy and after getting everything done that needs to get done, I usually go to sleep. That's pretty common for me.

Me not posting very often might make you angry, especially if you're my boyfriend. I thought I'd share some of my pet peeves with you, just in case you were worried about making me really mad. They're pretty standard. I don't think I'm unique in any of these. Sometimes I think up these FANTASTIC pet peeves, but then I forget them before I write them down. I guess they couldn't be so awful if I can't even remember them

How to Make Me Angry:
1. point out that I have a pimple, if I have a pimple. I probably know that I have a pimple. My complexion usually isn't a problem. When something does pop up, I don't need your input.
2. Say something ignorant about teachers. Go ahead, I dare you. Better yet, ask me what I'm doing wasting my life as an educator. I'll kill you.
3. Talk about your cat at length.
4. Flirt with my boyfriend. Yes, he's cute. Yes, he's charming. Yes, we're very happy together.
5. Write something on my notes or on my papers while we're in class. I'm really anal about my paper and if you write on it with some crazy coloured ink, I'm probably going to start fretting and feel the need to rewrite everything. I'm definitely the crazy one, but it still bugs me.
6. Throw a pop can in the garbage when the recycling box is RIGHT NEXT TO YOU
7. Pretend to be really smart and only able to talk about totally intellectual things. It's fantastic to be smart - I have a lot of respect for that. It's a bit weird if you constantly have to prove it. You can be smart and eat chicken wings and talk about 'Lost'. Seriously.
8. Tell me that you're in 'pre-med' ... there is no such thing in Canada.
9. Have 26 items in the 1-8 item line at the grocery store
10. Offer me some Brie cheese. Come on, just humor me. I get it, it's funny.

WOW

I sound like a huge bitch. I didn't even have a bad day, and here I am taking my problems out on you. I don't know where this is coming from. I'm clearly masking my horrid inner person with a sweet exterior that I can no longer fake. Perhaps tomorrow I'll have something nice to say.

Wanna know something? In 6 days, I'm going to write the name "Miss Johnson" on a chalkboard, and turn around and face a class of high school students for the first time. Isn't that wild? My practicum is starting and part of me is terrified, while the other part can't wait to start figuring out what kind of teacher I really am. I'm confident - more confident than people might think. I'm not worried about being walked on or disrespected. I respect myself - 14 year old kids can't take that away from me. I love what I'm doing and if I stay true to that, I'm going to be okay. I'm scared in a good way - like you might be scared before you get married. You know you're starting a big journey and it's probably going to be amazing, but it's hard to stand up in front of everyone and say "I do". On tuesday, my career 'begins'. Tonight - I sleep.

I Believe in Ghosts ... Seriously

It's after midnight. I was scanning through the TV listings a few minutes ago and came across a show called "Most Haunted". Now I can't stop watching it and it was the worst idea I've had in a long time. This group of british people in a blair-witch-esque documentary are hunting the ghost of Wilmina in a really old castle in England and it's really genuinely scaring me. They're doing all this night-vision filming and they're all genuinely terrified of what they're finding. They caught ON CAMERA a door slamming shut and I screamed out loud. One of the ghost hunters looked at the camera and said "this is bloody scary shit, isn't it". Great. I'm home alone with the ghost hunters. I'm never going to get to sleep.

I better go. I don't want to miss it if Wilmena shows herself. It's so awful and so scary that I can't stop watching.