I am hopeless!

Hello everyone,

I landed in Dublin without any problems, but I have discovered that I am hopeless! I cannot seem to assemble the phone I purchased this morning so I will have to go back to the hotel to see if I can put it together. I also keep falling asleep. I fell asleep on the plane. I fell asleep on the local bus into town. I fell alseep on a tour bus. I think it may have something to do with the fact that I never took a rest when I landed here so I have been running on and off for about 48 hours. I am waiting to see the Ukrainaine vs Italy game, but not too sure whether I can catch it back at my snazzy hotel.

The interior is quite beautiful, but I know the website has some lovely pictures.

















Remember how I said I kept falling asleep. Well I awoke and saw several young people getting off so I hopped off the bus. The bus driver was actually quite nice, because I didn't have any coins and he let me drive for free. It took me a few moments to realize I was wandering aimlessly in the Dublin ghetto searching for a place to eat. I stopped at the Irish Life Centre. I am still confused what they actually do at the centre, but the fountain was interesting.





Remember how I said I fell asleep during the tour, well it happend twice! The first time I thought the man said for everyone to get off here for the National Library and National Museum. Yeah, it was neither - the stop was for Trinity College. LOL. It's very relaxing, because they have wooden benches around the whole field and you can watch the boys playing soccer or people just laying about. Trinity actually reminds me of St. George, U of T.





They even have small little gardens for you to stroll in between classes. There is a Book of Kells exhibition going on at the moment, but I thought I would catch it when I actually stay in Trinity next Saturday.









I like how all road and pedestrian signs are in English and Galiec.








The ever so enlightend one decided to stand up on a moving double decker bus to take this photo of Oscar Wilde's first home. I later decided not to take any more photos on the tour just in case I was silly enough to try that again or lean over the bars for a better shot.

I am so angry!!!!

Is it possible for one person to be that incompetent? Can they truly screw up every single travel arrangement they have made for you? Perhaps this is all one big obstacle I am suppose to overcome so that when I do arrive on my trip and I accidently fall 750 off a cliff to my inevitable death it won't seem so bad.

I told my travel agent three weeks ago to book a flight to Inverness from London. I gave her the flight number and even the cost of the flight. I was suppose to arrive in Inverness at 8:15am. I am now arriving at 6pm. This means I will now have to drive on the opposite side of the road through mountains and cliffs in the dark without most shops being open as opposed to driving in the daylight and having heaps of people around. Beautiful. This should be quite interesting.

And as for my flight home, she got that part right. I am still leaving at 1:15pm two days from then so now I have less time to do everything I need to do. Beautiful. I can only think breathe. Don't kill anyone just yet.

Yesterday...it seemed so far away

Yesterday was intriguing. I went to Grad Mass with the men from work and it was a lovely event. The union rep made some funny jokes on our way to the church and I felt very safe being around them. We got back to the school where I watched the Italy vs Australia game. I felt so conflicted, because I was cheering for both teams! We had a delightful brunch where the other co-workers teased Frank for asking me if I wanted anything sweet. We had just finished our Casesar salad and pasta when he thought a little dessert would be perfect. I thought it was rather cute actually. It is nice to spend quality time with him. I then raced around the school meeting with different students about exams and some had some kind words for me. I attended the OECTA meeting where we clapped and gave a light "yay!" whenever someone was elected to a position.

The only part I did not like was when HE came into the room. It is becoming much harder for me to face him. I can still hear his sighs of pleasure as he places his groin next to a girl's anus and I can hear him whispering to me to unbotton my blouse. I can still feel his warm breath on my neck and smell the lingering cigarette ash on his lips. It sickens me to see how he can stride through the halls with that sense of confidence that he can get away with anything.

The evening was much more pleasant when I ran into a former student in The Body Shop. I had opened a bottle of a new fragrance and was taken aback when I heard a young voice exclaim my name. I felt much better about life and my misadventures at school. Well I am work and really should be working so off I go...

now do you see the photos?

Surprise!

Both images are of my left hand.

Can you guess what my little hun gave me recently? I am so happy. I miss you hunny! Love you heaps!

First reaction after reading Black Blood

The images still linger in my mind as I try to process everything I just read. I finished reading Black Blood a few moments ago and the story still resonates within me. Although I am physically hungry and should eat rather soon, it my hunger for the story that prevailed. I savoured every word, letting its meaning and flavour wash over me before swallowing it whole. I could not stop my thirst for more words, more story, more everything no matter how hard I tried to quench it. I definately recommend this book for its moving passages, plot twists and rich detail in characterization.

There are moments when it reminds me of Stand By Me, My Girl and Looking for Alibrandi. Black Blood reaches deeper within you and stirs your soul more so than the previously mentioned stories. I will need time to digest everything before I can truly appreciate what a feast I just ate.

Growing up as first generation Canadian and Black Blood

What is it about slippers and ethnic parents? Although children may see a knuckle, fist, hanger, spatula, or belt, it seems that the slipper is the favorite form of disciplinary action. Sometimes I find it quite amusing listening to how other children was raised in comparison to myself. I have traveled across the world and encountered people from all nationalities and races, it does seem that the slipper bonds us.

I am currently reading Black Blood by F.G. Paci, because I would be terribly upset at myself if I lost a gift someone gave me. I shall leave Black Blood and Shopaholic Takes Manhattan at home. I thought for a fleeting moment that I might bring Yeats is Dead! but I bought in Australia and I have already lost too many things in Ontario that were from Australia. Yes, I will end up bringing Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Saints, because it ties in nicely with my trip.

Black Blood opens with the line “It’s been 25 or 30 years since my last confession.” It immediately reminded me of most favorite opening line, “Bless me, Reader, for I have sinned. Since my last confession, which was more than fifty years ago, I have committed the following sins…” If you are wondering who came up with that brilliant line, just open up Laurence Olivier’s Confessions of an Actor.

I enjoy reading Black Blood because it reminds me how universal life can be at times. The story is set during my parent’s generation and reminds me of my father’s upbringing. I occasionally jot down pages, which I will share with my father. I think he would appreciate the description and characterization. He hates reading novels, so I have been searching on and off for some short stories by F.G. Paci that I could share with him.

There is one scene near the beginning of the tale that made me a bit queasy, because I am not accustom to reading accounts of a six year old male loosing his virginity. I am also equally uncomfortable with the thought of a ten-year-old girl having an orgasm; but the story captivates its audience and compels them to continue reading anyways.

I wish I could write better, but alas my mind has turned into mush. I think I shall retire for the evening and continue reading the book.

Frank McCourt and my Kenny B

Fiona and I went to see Frank McCourt earlier this year as he went on his Teacher Man tour. I still remember him telling me to hang on!











Sometimes I wonder whether I am cut out to be a teacher. It always seems like I have so much trouble and I wake up every morning asking myself, "How the hell am I going to get through today?" I start planning everything out.

I also miss film. Despite its gruelling hours and insane scheduling and politics, it will always be my passion. Cinema is my true muse and without it I feel dead. Cinema motivates me and rejuvenates my soul in a way that no other art form or profession ever has...but I am too scared to give up my financial stability with a teaching job.


I also remember feeling motivated to teach and being proud of my profession after I read Teacher Man, because for a fleeting moment I thought I actually made a difference. I recieve glimpses of glory when my students come back to visit me or perhaps send an email. I was moved when two students genuinely asked me to join them on a ride at Wonderland and there are the students who say a few kind words at the end.

Most teachers tell me we cannot touch them all. There is no way you can reach all your students, but if you do reach a few than you know you have done your job well. I place so much energy trying to reach all of them, I cannot help feeling disappointed when there is a failure. I guess it is very hard for me to accept that I am not Superman.

There is always one scene in Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet that completly moves me.
His arms are outstretched as he lies in a crucifix position. As the several men carry him out, the song "In Pace" begins to play. I remember looking at him in his white tank top, black suspenders and pants...that (a) he is absolutely gorgeous and (b) the several layers of meaning behind that one scene. I love that scene so much that I used it as part of this blog. Just look up at the top right hand corner to see what I mean.

I really should go to church now. I wish I could spell check these blogs without the blogger shutting down on me.

Wonder Woman, Summer Reading and F.G. Paci

There is one thing I have learned through this whole preperation for the trip - do not use the same travel agent or try planning it yourself when you are stressed beyond belief. I discovered new mistakes I had made during my planning and had to frantically search for hotel rooms (which luckily have now been booked) and flight information (which the travel agent has yet to give me). My travel agent has this uncanny ability to frustrate everyone to death only because she sends information to the wrong people and cannot seem to deliver information within a reasonable time limit. I only become more frustrated, because I tend to plan the rest of the trip by myself when I have piles of marking and planning to do and there is always some personal crisis flaring up that needs my immediate attention.

Anyways, I took some time to relax yesterday. I bought some hilarious winks to go on my msn and watched an episode of Wonder Woman. I use to spin around in my living room and bedroom thinking I can transform from Diana into Wonder Woman. I remember the role being a positive one for young girls, but had forgotten how feminist the show was...I was watching the pilot episode on my dvd and lost count of how many times Lynda Carter said Sisterhood, Women, and the side comments against men. I had also forgotten all the references to World War 2, which makes sense because that is when the story was set and the tv audience would have remembered it from 30 years ago.

Some parts of the show make me want to laugh, because our tv show production and special effect has advanced quite a bit since the show was released in 1975. You can tell the show is a living history, because it would have been relevant to the uprising women movement along with the way people were reacting to the past and present wars in thier own homes.
I also think Angelina Jolie would make a delightful new Wonder Woman if they were to move along with a new movie. She has the appoprixmately the same figure and eye colour as Lynda Carter.

On another side note, I am not too sure what book to bring on my journey. I have Giorgio Vasari's Lives of the Artists Volume 1 and 2, which would give me some insight into the times, places and people I will be looking at while in Italy. I enjoy his writing style, because it has glimpses of great literature mixed with the ease of tabloid gossip. I was also thinking of Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic takes Manhattan, because it is a light chick lit book given to me by my cousin. I like Becky's adventures.

Last but not least, the most sentimental item would be F.G. Paci's Black Blood. The autographed book was given to me by my friend and I would hate for it to get misplaced while I travel through six countries. Black Blood would be my fourth-fifth book I have read from F.G. Paci in the last three months depending on whether you count the 50 odd pages I read of Hard Edge. I enjoy F.G.'s writing style because of its fresh, crisp, rich, and the glorious character development allows you to empathize with the characters on several levels. There is a reason why critics call F.G. Canada's invisible treasure. If you like Frank McCourt, you will definately like F.G. Paci!

The only slightly awkard thing about reading F.G. Paci's work is that it also has a certain sexual appeal to it as the characters weave through their raw emotions, insecurities and personal conflicts. This makes great writing and marketing for as well know sex sells, but it is a bit different when you must try to distinguish a friend from an author...and I am not sure anyone really wants to know what their friend is thinking when it comes to sex. The great thing is that F.G. Paci is quite different than my friend, which allows me to appreciate the author as someone with an English Specialist and loves great literature. I can also appreciate the author's ability to tell a cinematic story and the great thing is adapting his novels would be releatively cheap and has box office potential!

Well I must go and prepare my binder for the teacher offering the course next year and continue to prepare for this trip. I honestly feel like the greatest challenge is just surviving all the obstacles and mishaps before getting on the bloody plane. lol.

the men at my school...

One of my co-workers always get grossed out by the Gremlin in the jar. She swears she sees it move sometimes!

The one intriguing aspect of the school was that the staff was segregated by gender. It appeared that all the women would sit and gossip together, while the men conversed elsewhere. I then found it ironic that it was the men that welcomed me to the school.

I guess you could say that I found their company soothing after the unpleasant encounter with my former teacher and that it made me feel safer somehow knowing that they were there.

We would end up sharing several memories together either sitting on a bus and talking or sitting on the bridge at wonderland and telling each other about our day. It could be sharing breakfast and other stories about our lives.

One of the men would offer me a ride home and share resources with me. He was always great for a laugh and to calm me down after a long stressful day. We shared some common interests and although I was a bit skeptical of him at first because of one of his interests, he soon became someone I would respect and admire. I would later meet his family and stroll through his property on a nice summer day. He would explain each thing and I would watch him toss a stick to his dog wishing I could never leave this place. I would learn so much from him and feel deeply honored that he actually took the time to get to know me a bit better.

There would be other men who would give mysterious answers to everything, but you knew he would always be there to advise you and help you out. He would take interest in what you had to say and share mementos too. He would often make me laugh with his funny dress ups and sometimes I came down hard on him...perhaps too hard for someone who really tried to make a difference and welcome me in.

I would develop another bond with a man over the coffee machine as he would enter in and out of the room searching for that perfect cup of coffee. He too would become someone I could relate too and respect for marrying someone of another race. We would end up sitting on a deck laughing, drinking and having a great time.

The youngest was by far the most cheerful, because he would sing these ditties every morning and truly brighten the day just by entering the room. We would end up strolling through three acres of land where he pointed out these ruins, gardens, trees and other interesting ancedotes as the other men joined us.

Another man would share a book with me called Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. He reminded me of John Malovich and he has a brilliant mind. He always comes up with the best one liners and hides his wit for the best moments. We would talk of our common interest in one of the stories in the National Post. I enjoyed his company so much that one day I got in trouble for talking to him instead of watching my kids during activities day. I really hope that one day he can write that book, "Teach!".

Another man would share Irish history lesson with me and point out interesting things I could do on my trip to Ireland. He would draw me maps of Belfast and even offered to show me around while I was in the city. He also does the greatest impersonnations that makes me laugh. We had heaps of fun watching the England game on the big screen in the caf. He also sends me these delightful how to speak with an Irish accent emails and I can be sure we will have a grand time.

The last man is the one I am closest to. I really don't know what it would be like without having him in the lunch room every day. He has this crisp, fresh, witty and exciting writing style that I truly enjoy. I hate reading novels, but I have already begun reading my fourth book by him. I am really not too sure how we bonded, but we do seem like an unlikely pairing. lol. I would miss him if I did not get a chance to see him a certain day as someone would miss a close friend that they normally see every day. I would look forward to hearing his opinion on movies and literature along with stories about his life. Although I did not always like how his usual routine with one of the men in my workroom, I did appreciate that was just another aspect of who he was in the staffroom. I always felt lucky just to be sitting with him and enjoying our time. I guess it is not everyday that you befriend someone you respect and admire so much. I am forever grateful that his parting gift to me was one of his books signed with a special note. I would still like his books to be transformed into movies and perhaps I will not let go of my passion for film just yet....perhaps I can linger in my fantasies of returning to my true passion and mingle with some people who may take interest in this man's work.

I am also grateful to other members of the staff, but not so much as one of the vice principals who took me under her wing right from the beginning. I always appreciated her honesty and ability to talk bluntly rather than be so bloody diplomatic. She gave me tips on how to teach English and only once lost her temper with me after I repeated the same mistake over and over and over and over and over and over. I knew I could always talk to her and was moved when she seemed genuinely hurt that I did not tell her about my grade nine teacher until the end. She kept saying she would have moved me out of that workroom, but I didn't know how to convey that if I were moved I would have never met all of these wonderful men. Although it may take one man to destroy any sense of happiness, it would take seven or eight men to create an experience I will never forget.

As I pack up and head out back to my bus stop, I think of all the events that happened this year. Although at first it seemed like I would get lost in this huge jungle of emotions, I know that I will find my own path.

There are so many possiblities where my life may lead and so many paths I may

take...but as I head off to a new future, there is one song that keeps playing in my

mind.

"It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life for me

And I'm feeling good."

first part of my journey in the new school

The Principal apologized for not having any where to place me and offered the staff room as my work room.

I did not realize at that moment that the staff room would become one of my little homes. Frank and I would end up having lunch at the far left table while R, C and A would sit at the table next to us.

I would sit here every morning and eat my breakfast before or after I cleared out the dishwasher. Sometimes I got a special treat and could eat breakfast with A. I would even use the cupboards to store my jacket and the fridge for my lunches.

One day A saw me on a tiny sofa typing away on my laptop and suggested I move into one of the workrooms.

I was very amused by the workroom number and the pictures on the glass, but had no idea this door would lead into an entirely different universe. It was like a portal to another time and place.















I flicked the switch and taken back from the unique decor. A suggested I take the desk with the Santa Claus and Jingle Bells, which I did and then added my own twist to it. muhahahaha.

I did not realize at the time that this little workroom would become my sanctuary and my tiny home away from home. The boys in the room told me that they use to hang christmas lights all across the ceiling and that they had several fond memories of the wild place back then. I will remember the workroom mainly because of these men and not the countless hours marking and planning.

I also discovered that there would be a little wrinkle during my stay at this new school. My grade nine teacher who had the unusual habit of knocking over our pens and pencils off our desk would be teaching across the hall from my workroom. His workroom was right next to his classroom, which meant we would have to see each other every day. The odd thing about my teacher was that after he knocked over your pens and pencils he ordered you to pick them up. You were not allowed to squat down, but rather stand erect and then bend over so that your bum was lifted towards the ceiling. He would then place his groin next to your bum and smile. As for the gym girls like myself, he would notice that we were sweaty from running around for 75 minuites and told us that we could always unbottun our blouses if we so wish. He also liked to come close to you and look over your shoulder when you work...so close that you could feel his breath upon your neck. He still sends shivers up my back and I shudder to think of him.
My classmates filed a complaint against him and he was transfered to another school. Since the original three girls in my grade nine class were in a joint complaint with another three girls in the grade eleven class, they had friends at the teacher's new school. It was soon discovered that he had sexually assualted those girls as well and later transfered to my current school. In this new school, he had a habit of inviting girls into our workroom where he would open a door on the left side of this photo and lock the door. I would look underneath the door, but only saw pitch black. I would look at the clock and five minuites would pass before the girl would leave the work room. She did not look dishelved or distraught and he simply locked the door. I confronted him indirectly about our past and told him not to do anything that would put me in an awkard situation. He agreed and we never really spoke to each other for when we did the tension would become so high that we would snap at each other. I did not want to file so many complaints so I spent this term masquerading as if nothing was wrong at all.


I would end up spending a large amount of time on that computer planning lessons and checking emails that I sent to myself with work that needed to be done.

Another semester, another adventure awaits...

The new school was much closer than the last one and ironically my last principal told me I would have a lovely time there. I also knew that my union rep once taught at this school and he reassured me that all would be well. I met with my new boss and department head before the semester officially began and they gave me some wonderful resources. I wanted a head start on my new career path so I set out in the pitch black and let the silence swallow me whole. I aboarded my bus and began my lonely walk up to the school.

the story will continue once I know how to update this properly...

My first semester and experience with teaching

I created a list of things I need to prepare for my journey to Ireland, Scotland, Italy, Germany, England and France, but I think I should debrief on my teaching experience before tackling another huge task.

Each semester feels like an entire school year condensed into five short months, which means my teaching experience is often a grueling emotional and physical boot camp. I began the school year at my previous school and I can empathize with vets returning to a war zone.

All the tables, chairs, computers and walls seem like monuments of a horrid past.
I look upon these ancient ruins and an overwhelming sense of fear, angst, and anxiety pulsates through my body. I plop into a nearby chair and bury my face in the palm of my hands. All the bewilderment, confusion, and sense of defeat and defiance from the past haunt me. The memories of my first year teaching at this school keep flashing in my mind and make it difficult for me to articulate what is provoking these emotions and reactions. I want to cry and the new year has not even begun.

Teachers are not supposed to be in charge with the entire operation of a school, but I often found myself in that position. I would begin the semester by recruiting new students for our program and contacting them to join an orientation session. I would prepare an orientation with my new co-worker who was new to Ontario. As a resident, I felt it necessary to introduce my co-worker to OISE and the resources we have here in Toronto for teachers and welcome them to our province. I would take on the mentor role for the first two to three weeks of school and then allow them to take over since they had more teaching experience than I.

We would meet the students and begin the course selection process by discovering their career and academic aspirations. Our pilot project caters to students who have dropped out of school, been expelled or suspended or simply labeled as At Risk Youth. These students are given a second chance to complete any outstanding high school credits while earning an additional credit at Sheridan College. This process means the teachers have approximately two months to prepare these students for college life while laying down the foundational skills in order for them to graduate high school. I thought the process would be easier if their last high school credits pertain to the courses they would eventually take in college.

Once the course selection process began, I would have to search for resources since both times the only objects we were given were a few tables and chairs. There was a moment during my first year where we ordered a few textbooks and credit recovery booklets, but for the most part my co-worker and I would have to find our own resources for the thirty odd courses we would be teaching that semester. Although I specified that I did not want to teach a large course load because I would be taking an Additional Qualification course at OISE for Special Education, I ended up with a list of thirty courses I needed to cover either through credit recovery or brand new subjects. I complained to my superior and asked whether there would ever be a limit to the amount of courses I would teach per semester and the answer was no.

It became clear to the students who the natural leader in the program was and they would react appropriately. The fact that I needed to act as the resident Special Education teacher, Guidance Counselor, Administrator, Teacher and Child Youth Worker made it difficult for me to retain my strength. They understood that the countless responsibilities were wearing me down and it became difficult for me to speak and move around the room. They knew I had placed my trust in my co-worker to take some of the burden off my shoulders and I soon became more of a support figure rather than a patriarchal figure.

My Principal was an extremely fickle person and she would often tell me that I was taking on too much responsibility and that I need to detach myself from my job. I would relax and prevent the job from consuming every waking moment only to discover that she held me responsible for every action and decision-taking place on our campus. If something was not running smoothly on our campus, it was simply my fault. If a student needed something, it was up to me to find a way to make it happen. I began to dub myself as the fairy godmother since it seemed that I had to keep pulling miracles out of my ass just to please my superior. One day I just broke down crying at work and told everyone that I wanted to quit. I could no longer take this crazy lifestyle since I had been working under these conditions for a year and a half. It was already difficult to talk about Stephen Hawking, Leonardo Da Vinci and Bill Gates all in one sentence in order to answer student questions about their courses, but it was entirely different story trying to appease the increasing demands from my boss.

My boss became concerned about my mental and physical well being since it obvious that my health was in decline. I would discover blood in all my bowel movements and sometimes my nose would bleed as well. My hair began to fall out and I would suffer from dizzy spells that left me motionless. The doctors also noticed polyps in my uterus and an increase of abnormalities in my ovaries, which led them to believe I had cancer. I also had a continuous menstrual flow for six months. The doctors and I began running tests before I began the school year but the stressful life seemed to make matters worse. They would run blood test after blood test after blood test. We soon discovered that the amount of blood loss led to a severe iron deficiency. A normal person might have an iron blood count of 40, whereas mine was 6.

The combination of cancer threats, iron deficiencies, and the pressure from work made life almost unbearable. I spoke with a union rep about my working conditions and leave of absence. He requested all my work emails and was appalled at what I had to endure for such a long time. After six weeks of working at my previous school, it was time to pack up and say goodbye. I ended up taking six weeks off in order to recover from my illness, but the transition wasn’t very smooth and I felt compelled to help my students during that time period. I was given strict orders not to do any work and perhaps my interference led to some bitter experience for the supply teachers and staff.

Once the doctors and I agreed I could return to work, I had to prepare for a second battle. Despite my efforts to create a truce between my boss and I by coming in during my sick leave to help with the program and all the nice emails I had received from her during this instable time, she was preparing a counter attack on my mental health and teaching ability. The Health department and Principal wanted me to attend a psychological evaluation before I returned to work, because my Principal thought I was insane for teaching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and The Chronicles of Narnia as part of the English curriculum. She could not understand why I would tell students to read the novel and compare it to the movie. She thought I had an obsession with fantasy and that only insane people like fantasy…therefore (and let me just make this clear that I and the millions of people around the world who support the HP and Narnia franchise) was insane.

I explained to her that my students were low functioning and that there were statistics proving the HP franchise increases the literacy level in most students. I also explained that the Narnia was a classic tale renowned for its religious allusions so it would make it easier for me to teach Narnia to my kids taking English and Religion. I also confessed that I chose the books randomly, because I knew the movies were coming out and most likely would be blockbusters. I could rely on the media to create a certain buzz and hype over the books, which might motivate the kids to actually read the books. The students seemed to enjoy the books, but not all of them wanted to read such long prose. You can only imagine my surprise when the Principal ordered the kids to attend at field trip to the theatre to watch the movies as part of their cumulative project even though I was against the idea!

My union rep heard both cases and told me not to attend the evaluation. After a short battle with my union rep, it was decided that I should be transferred to a new school and so begins my next tale…

More experimentation with self portraits

Here is another photo I took...I can't seem to find a way to edit these photos properly. Thanks for helping me with the pics. I really need to start learning how to use this camera more effectively!

As you can see I still don't want to mark. Yes, I honestly believe these marks can just grow tiny little feet and hands...and just mark themselves. hahaha. I also like to experiment with photos so I took a few self portraits. Tell me what you think!

I use the one on the right as my msn photos, but do you have any other suggestions?

some more interesting things...

Some other moments that you may enjoy...

1. My hunny and I are thinking of getting married next summer in Newfoundland. I would like Gross Morne Park, but will notify everyone as soon as I know more details...such as when my boyfriend actually proposes.

2. I keep stalling and I really should stop. Does someone want to mark exams for me? You can also have the thrill of choosing report card comments and updating marks. Once you are all done that, you can write up some sheets about the students who failed and call their parents.

3. Teachers are worse than students when the weather becomes nicer. They arrive late to work, take long lunches and would probably enjoy a drink or two if they could..... just look at me. I left work to watch the Italian vs Croatian game. Viva Italia!

4. I cannot pronounce the letter a. Canadians like to pronounce it as aaaaa like they are going to the dentist or being attacked by some invisible force and are now fleeing from the scene. The Brits and Ozzies like to pronounce it as awww like they are somehow pondering the true secret to a joyful life. Perhaps they are thinking Whoa Nelly! What letter comes after A?! I fit more in the psycho intellectual side rather than the trying to talk with tools in your mouth. lol.

5. Why do sports broadcasters call a bunch of men running around in wallabies outfits socceroos? You don't seem them leaping aross the field in great strides with pouches next to their belly. Although when you come to think of it, it would be nice if they did have the pouches or could lean back on their tail and kick Brazil's ass. Please oh mighty sun, will you not strike that team down from winning the world cup for the sixth consecutive time? lol.

6. I really should mark. I don't want to mark, but I really should mark. Damn those mark entry sheets!!!!!

some things that may interest you...

Hmm...I just went to spell check this long blog I wrote and it erased everything so here we go rather quickly....

The following are the recent discoveries I made in the past five days (in no particular order)

1. I hate spell check on blogs. I think I will leave spelling and grammatical errors in the blogs simply because I would not want to type it all over again. Would that make me lazy?

2. They seem to like me. They really like me. Yes, now that I no longer have to feel anxious and paranoid over my new co-workers secretly conspiring to make my third school experience a total nightmare, I feel more composed and relaxed.

3. My friend who I met in high school and went to university with will now be my co-worker. Her elegance, grace and charm captivates everyone and she is a true delight to work with...I am so proud of her and can see that she is a delightful teacher.

4. Erin is the new shangri-la. I cannot believe I have never discovered its true beauty and tranquility before. The rolling hills makes it feel like you are driving along on your own personal rollar coaster.

5. Have you ever noticed how emerald green hills and windy roads can transport you into an entirely different universe? Next time you need to escape from the insanity of living in the city, do not waste time on a spa package or massage...just simply get in your car and drive out to the country!

6. My co-worker has several hidden talents. One of them is landscaping and creating the most gorgeous grounds a person could walk on...it is so relaxing just strolling through his property as he explains all the different types of trees and the ruins he is building...and tossing a stick for his dog...it is so lovely i never want to leave.

7. I will truly miss the magnificent men in Sin Bin. They welcomed into their little group with open arms and invited me for a lovely bbq. I drank half a bottle of wine. They enjoyed their ale. We confided, laughed, and spun a wonderful tale. I am not sure what I will do without them.

8. I will miss Frank. The only other person who I would feel closer to is Elena and that is because we marched through hell together during our first job with DP. I think of her similarily as someone who would reflect on their vet friends. Frank is a true treasure in this world and I will miss him dearly. Imagine you were friends with your favorite author or sports/tv personality and you could sit with them everyday and have lunch. I will miss our conversations and taking funny pictures.

9. My muse has forsaken me and I am left witless, dull and unable to articulate my thoughts and emotions.

10. I consider Australia and England my second homes and therefore would like them to win in the world cup; however, I consider Italy my true heritage and I would like them to see take the championship!

If only Oscar Wilde could see the Italians play today...

I sometimes think that God in creating man, overestimated his ability.
- Oscar Wilde (In Conversation)

I slumped on the sofa with my silky Italian soccer jersey twisting underneath the blankets and glanced at my Italian wristband. I could not believe what I witnessed on television and for a moment I was embarrassed to be Italian.
I remember my teachers asking me to complete an assignment about why we were proud of our heritage and I asked her what happens when you have two nationalities – Chinese and Italian. She told me I had to choose one nationality, because students of mixed origin were seen as abnormalities or mutants. My eyes glazed over as I pondered her absurd request. You don’t ask people whether they like their left or right eye better or for them to choose which arm they would like to have, so why must a child choose only one racial background because students with mixed origin are rare. I surveyed the classroom and realized I was the only Asian in the room so I decided I would be Italian for the day. My last name was Italian and there were other students of the same ethnic origin. It only made sense to erase my Chinese heritage for the day and take on an entirely different persona. I now think that decision was made in haste. ; )
Flash forward 20 years and you will see Albherto Gilardino lead Italy to a 1-0 victory against United States in the World Cup when suddenly Christian Zaccardo decides to “help” his team block a goal by kicking it into his own net! I understand he didn’t do it on purpose, but what a moron! I really can’t see the Chinese doing something so silly even if it was an accident. lol. Thankfully I was able to finish reading Sophie Kinsella’s Confessions of a Shopaholic , which made me laugh and forget the whole blunder.

The origins of the journey

It has been fourteen years since God told me why I am on this earth. I no longer think about that day, because everyone assumes it is a sad story and no wants to hear a sad story. I believe you must understand someone's past in order to appreciate their current behaviour; so I will tell you the story in hopes that you will accept me for what I am and join me on this personal odyseey.

When most people say they are depressed, they usually mean they are very sad. It is rare to find someone who truly understands what it is like to struggle through depression. My depression consumed me entirely until I no longer remembered how to speak or could recall my previous existence. I became an empty shell who went through the motion of living until one day I felt an overwhelming sensation rush through my body. Although I felt giddy and excited, there was also such a deep sorrow and despair. I suddenly realized what it meant to be alive and with it came all the happiness, joy, anguish and confusion a person of twelves years could experience. I picked up a knife and gazed at it when I heard a voice. I guess you could call it my conscience or some other scientific name, but I prefer God. He told me I must live in order to make other people's lives better.

I was not sure what the message meant or how I would approach this new vocation, but I have dedicated my life to trying to make other people's lives better. Sometimes I doubt whether I make any progress, but I remember the kind words of those whose lives were changed because I had believed in them. I truly believe that everyone is capable of achieving something great and that we must use the strengths God has given us to create a better world.

Sometimes it is frustrating as a teacher to see that each student has the potential to be the next Stephen Hawking, Leonardo Da Vinci, William Shakespeare, or Bill Gates..but the student has been told several times they will amount to nothing and therefore they don't even try. I treat every student as an individual cryptoex that I must decode in order to discover their strengths and build their self esteem. This can be emotionally and physically draining so it comes to no surprise that I often face stress related illnesses.

My doctor's discovered something different inside me last August. There seemed to be a polyp in my uterus and even more abnormalities in my ovaries. They began to run some tests and soon speculated it may be cancer. I thought about all the times I had survived gun shots, near drownings, anoxeria, accidents, and personal obstacles; and I thought about all the times I walked around Australia without any sunscreen despite the several warnings that I may get cancer. It just seemed so surreal that I may actually die because of cancer. We ran tests for seven months.
We thought of several reasons why I could never stop bleeding and why my body seemed to be rejecting new ideas. One day the doctor's examined a new x ray and blood tests....and all the previous problems vanished. Although it was odd to learn I was now in perfect health, I was happy just to chalk up the whole experience to a severe iron defiency (the current diagnosis) and whatever else it may be.

Seven months is a long time to reflect on your life. I began to wonder why I had lived so much of my life for others and not taken more time to do the things that truly mattered to me. This trip would be about a second chance at life and fulfilling all my childhood dreams and desires. It would pay homage to the people who influenced me directly or indirectly and perhaps rekindle parts of myself that were lost in my original depression.

I will fulfill a 25 year old dream by visiting Ireland, Scotland and England. I will pay tribute to my great grandparents in Termini, Sicily and to my great Uncle Joe who became like a second grandfather to me by visiting Normandy where he fought in World War 2. I will visit friends in Germany who accepted me for who I was while in Australia and a dear friend who took care of me when I had broken both of my wrists. I will visit the places I have studied in high school and univeristy that influenced the person I am today.

I look forward to this journey and hope you will join me along the way.

Prelude to a Personal Journey

In Pace

Diligite justitiam, o judices terrae.

Justorum animae in manu Dei sunt, et non tanget illos tormentum mortis.

Visi sunt oculis insapientium mori, et aestimata est afflictio exitus illorum - illi autem sunt in pace.

Tyrannus impius non habet spem, et si quidem longae vitae erit, in nihilum computabitur.

Princeps autem justus, ille in pace est.

Cherish righteousness, o judges of the earth.

The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and the torment of death will not touch them.

In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die, and their departure is taken for misery - but they are at peace.

The ungodly ruler has no hope, and even if he lives long, he shall be regarded as nothing.

But the just prince, he is at rest.