An off topic bitch fest brought to you by me.
Being told to give a survey to my students to find out how to make my class more fun is really just absolutely fucking ridiculous. Never mind that 12 year-old kids have no idea what they should do. They only know what they want. They want to be on their phones and they want to play mindless video games and get constant positive feedback for no effort.
Sure, give them a survey. Make it more fun. The only focus for teacher’s for the several years has been us to make everything more fun. Easier. Bullet points and no reading. And certainly no homework. They’re too busy for homework. Too busy.
Did you study? No, but I played Call of Duty for 10 hours.
You play Call of Duty? Your parents let you play Call of Duty?
Obviously, the problem lies with me. I’m not fun enough.

Now, I’m bored of complaining. It’s always the same. Poor performance and blame the teacher. Nothing to do with parenting. Nothing to do with screens. Nothing to do with kids being exposed to violence earlier and earlier in their lives. Nothing to do with any of that. Just me and my boring hands-on, lab filled, inquiry-based, interactive class.

Issues of the Body

*warning*  Hormonal Bitch Fest *warning*

I hate ovulating.  All I want to do is have sex with any man walking by.  I can’t stand it.  I question all my thoughts, ideals, motivations, current life; all because of some damn hormones that want me to answer the call.

Last night, my keys ended up locked in my car.  When I finally admitted that I wouldn’t be able to get in my car by myself, I called my insurance.  They promptly sent out an independent contractor that opened my car in about 1 minute and all I could think about was taking this complete stranger home.  I wanted that guy so completely, I noticed every detail of his body.  His hands.  His neck.  His scruffy face.  His lean muscles.  His voice.  His face and where it could be buried in the nape of my neck as he pounded into me.  Oh. . . I surmised complete satisfaction in no time.

I don’t know what I was thinking.  I was so pissed off at my ovaries.  I was in a bad mood all night and angry with myself.  This sort of thing has been happening for several months.  I recognized what is going on.  I understand why I want to get fucked.  I know all about the wonders of one night stands.

Thing is, I’m in no position to act on these irresponsible impulses.  My life is full and complicated.  I just need to get through the next several days and lose that business card.  Damn.