Oscar Weekend is Here!

Another year, another batch of Oscar-nominated movies that I haven't seen because I'm too busy catching up on Real Housewives. (Sorry that I'm not sorry.)

Much like the A-listers, I'm spending my weekend getting primped and preened by a glam squad who flutters around me like flies to a picnic. (My "primped and preened" I mean I'm dying my hair with a box of L'Oreal Feria. By "glam-squad" I mean I borrowed my roommates nail polish. The same? Not really.)

Of all of the Best Picture Nominees, the only one I've seen is Midnight in Paris, so that's who I'm rooting for. It seems like the only "feel good" movie on the list. If you haven't seen it, RUN to Redbox before tomorrow night. One of the best, most original movies I've seen in a long time.

I'm also excited that Melissa McCarthy is nommed for Best Supporting Actress, and Kristen Wiig is nominated for best screenplay! I never would have guessed that the Academy would nominate such a, uh, slapstick movie, but it's nice to see some funny, talented ladies getting the credit they deserve.

Who will you be rooting for tomorrow night?

Anywhere But Here

Watching waaaay too many episodes of Selling L.A. in order to escape my life has taken its toll on me: I officially have California fever.

(Note: This could also be identified as "small town fever" in which the quaint-ness of the town you live in has worn off and you feel more like every building within the entire 3 mile radius is closing in on you, ever.so.slowly.)

After days that involve yelling at students, piles of paperwork, and wondering why so many of my coworkers still have feathered bangs circa 1985, Selling L.A. has become my refreshing escape from bad-hair reality.  I want to walk through mansions with California breezes wafting through my perfectly blown-out hair, have a job that allows me to buy 20 million dollar houses, and go to work parties that involve martinis and celebrity appearances.

Palm trees, beach walks, not having to scrape frost off of my windshield at 5:48 am....

 

A girl can dream, right?  

My mom always told me that knowing what you don't want is just as important as knowing what you do. I lived in New York and it was too big, busy, and anonymous for me. (Not to mention expensive.) I dreamed of having a yard and a big sprawling house. Now I have that, but it's nearly impossible to have work-life balance when all of your neighbors are 70 and there's not a bar for 60 miles. 

To sum it up: I miss Charlotte. It was big enough to let me know I lived in a city, but small enough that I still ran into friends at the grocery store. Friday afternoons were spent at happy hour on breezy porches and Saturday afternoons meant miles of walking through Myers Park. Wednesdays meant wine night and birthdays meant dinner with the girls. I left work at 4 pm on Friday and didn't think about it again until 8 am on Monday.

So...small town life is not for me. Charlotte, I'll see you again in a year. Until then, I'm off to Virginia Beach for the weekend to remind myself what civilization looks like.

All Work and No Play...Equals My Life Everyday

I apologize for the radio silence here on Haughty by Nature for the past three weeks. Let me describe to you a sample of the things I've been doing in lieu of blogging:

Paperwork. Lesson plans. Filing paperwork. Revising lesson plans. Explaining to parents that their child can't read. Explaining to parents that their child can read but sits there like a bump on a log and therefore has a zero in my class. More paperwork. Meetings. Scrubbing "Blood Killers" off my desk that someone had scratched there in pencil. Writing referrals. Picking people's desks up and slamming them down when they fell asleep in class. More paperwork. Meetings. Throwing T.'s journal across the room like a frisbee before and screaming at him to get to the office. Doing vocabulary drills. Wiping away a dyslexic child's tears after he made a zero on his test because he couldn't read it. Writing notes to parents saying their child works well in small groups. Talking to students in the hallways about why yelling "I'm going to effing kill you" is actually inappropriate in 100% of situations. Talking to students about how it is actually 1) rude and 2) unhelpful to tell one of their group members that they just "can't be helped" before snatching flashcards out of their hands. More paperwork. Yelling at J. to stop pouting about the 46 he got on his test because that's what happens when you don't pay attention while I'm teaching. 

And that was just yesterday.

The honeymoon stage is over, and February has been a particularly tough month with the mountain of paperwork I've had to deal with in addition to everything else. I want my life back.

I want to leave work at work and come home and relax. I want to work out. I want to keep in touch with my friends and family. I want to have time to get my haircut and have the money to get my nails done. I need a massage. I want to be able to shut my brain off so that students aren't the last thing I think about before I fall asleep and the first thing I think about upon waking up.

The other hard part about living in this town is that my only friends are teachers, which means conversations inevitably turn to work when we're together. (This doesn't help the brain shut off mentioned earlier.)

I've put in 60 hour weeks every week for the past 3 weeks. There hasn't been a day when I've spent less than 12 hours of work. Basically, I'm burnt out, I'm tired, and there's still 5 weeks until spring break.

Help? How can I recharge?

Stay-cation Time

Being the thoughtful, conscientious, and wise decision-maker that I am, I left my phone at work on Friday.

As in: I realized that it was still sitting on my desk only after I pulled into my driveway that's a mere 20 miles down the road. Obviously, I was not going back for it. Sigh. How would I possibly keep up with my fast-paced social life without any contact with the outside world?

Turns out, living in a small town without a cell phone is pretty much just like living in a small town with a cell phone. Who knew? (I'm guessing everyone but me.)

And actually? It's the best thing I could have done for myself. Living with two other roommates, carpooling daily, and teaching delightful middle schoolers basically means I'm never alone. This weekend, it just so happened that both of my roommates were out of town. Unless I wanted to get in the car and drive 30 minutes to a friend's house, I had no way of making plans or getting in touch with anyone.

I'm a social animal, but I also crave alone time to recharge my batteries after a long week.  It was amazing to spend a few blissful hours in total solitude. I read the stack of magazines that's been piling up on my coffee table, watched far too much HGTV (if that's even possible), and went for a 4 mile walk. I read blogs, wrote lesson plans, and watched a documentary on Netflix. The best part? I didn't answer to or interact with anyone. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, for as long as I wanted.

And it? Was awesome.

On another note, does this mean I'm becoming a hermit? Please say no.

The No-Dating To Do List

Things to Do (When You Aren't Dating and Won't For a Long Time Due to Living in the Middle of Nowhere)

1. Watch the Food Network
2. Vacuum dust bunnies out of the corners of your house
3. Watch HGTV
4. Read a magazine
5. Pick out your outfits for the week
6. Call your friends and realize you have nothing to talk about except work
7. Polish your silver jewelry
8. Look up cute dogs on Petfinder
9. Rearrange bookshelves by color of the books

Something needs to change, and soon. I'm wasting the few short years when everything is tight and perky living in between a tobacco field and a peanut processing plant. The guys around here decorate their homes with stuffed animals (as in taxidermy, not teddy bears) and think a bright orange hunting hat is a style statement.


Aaaaand I'm going to die alone. I'm getting desperate enough that I would totally go on a date with one of those weirdos that used to message me when I was trying online dating.

Sigh. What do I do?

J. and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I wasn't in the mood to play around when the boys walked into my room on Tuesday morning. I let them know that if they felt like actin' a fool, I'd be promptly escorting them down to the 6th grade hallway, where they could spend the rest of the day. (This was mostly because those were the only teachers that would agree to take them, but I may or may not have made it sound like it was the principal's idea.)

At the thought of having to suffer the humiliation of sitting with lowly 6th graders, T. decided he was going to become a model student. He sat still. He said yes ma'am. He even helped another student by leaning over and whispering "Hey man, when you talk like that we can't learn. C'mon, man!" He refilled my water cup and swept the floor. All in all, he made me wonder why I hadn't thought to threaten them with this way back in September.

J., on the other hand, decided to go in the opposite direction. To him, the best course of action would be to put his head down on his desk and play dead. He didn't respond to any of my questions, redirections, or threats.

Oh, we're so now we're playing that game? Honey, I invented that game. Now sit and watch while I call your mom. Rude.

He was less than pleased with me, and decided to walk out of the classroom. When I caught up with him in the hallway, he informed me that I was "getting on his f**king nerves."

Yeah...he got sent home for 5 days.

I wish I could say that I was upset about it, but I'm actually really jealous. He's been getting on my f**king nerves since August, and I'm the one who NEEDS a 5 day vacation. From now on, students who yell obscenities at their teacher should have to stay in school while their teacher gets a spa vacay.

Needless to say, T. and I are having a very quiet week. And my floor has never been cleaner.

RH of Beverly Hills: La Sur or La Slur?

Seeing as how it's a three day weekend and I may or may not have taken a significant nap Monday afternoon, I was actually able to stay awake to watch the best show ever created Real Housewives of BH last night. 

One of my favorite things about these Housewives? Besides the fact that they're loaded and gorgeous, they're pretty much the only RH cast that doesn't spend entire seasons in screaming matches (execpt for Kim and Kyle, and really, can you blame them?). It's much more fun to watch when the ladies actually get along.  

Once, again, we find Kim heavily sedated, which apparently causes her to crawl around on the hotel's bathroom floor. I've never been on anti-anxiety meds, but I'm pretty sure that's not an official side effect. 

But then again, neither is looking like a hot mess and having a busted, creepy boyfriend, but she can't seem to shake those, either. Oh, Kim. Why are you on the show again? I'd rather see more of Dana and the wine cooler in her closet. For realz. Why doesn't she get more camera time?

Kim then reveals to Kyle that things aren't working with said busted, creepy boyfriend, to which Kyle and the audience both said: we feel so bad for you duh. 

Taylor bravely showed up to the opening of SUR to talk to the ladies about the ending of her marriage. (Another thing I love about these ladies? They literally hide nothing from the camera. I. Can't. Get. Enough.) If the diamonds in their Captain Planet-like pile up don't make you drool, I really can't help you. 

The biggest reason they're smiling? Kim's not there. 

All images from Bravotv.com

Sadly, the season finale is next week, which means my reasons for living will whittle down to about zero. Sigh. At least I only have a few more weeks until Orange County premieres...