KONY 2012

Watch it.
Share it.
Take action.
Change the world.

These Two Kids

...want some kids. They're in the hoping-for-an-adoption business at the moment. And I couldn't be more excited for them! Give them a looksy here, here, or here. And, if you know of anybody who wants a loving LDS home for their bebe, I cannot recommend these two enough.

I met Shannon in a poetry class during college. We hit it off immediately because I'm pretty sure Shannon hits it off with everyone immediately (she is even more beautiful on the inside than she is on the outside--is that even possible--and furthermore, how is that fair?). I still remember sitting in freeway pile-up traffic trying to get to her wedding reception with the fella pictured above before the gig ended (I made it, thankfully). She is one of the most genuine, good, kind, beautiful people I know. If anybody would make a great mommy, it's her. She also has some mad dancin' skillz.

So, there you go. Please check them out, recommend, and send good vibes, prayers, and juju their way during this process. I know these two will grow their family. I just hope it is sooner than later!

I Dote on Votes

I shamelessly nominated myself as the May blog spotlight over at Mormon Mommy Blogs one night, certain that nothing would ever come of it. You see, I'm neither wife or mommy--but I still follow (some of my favorite blogs have been discovered here). Even stranger still, of the many nominations made, I was selected as one of the five you vote for this month!

So get to. Go here and vote for Confessions of a Rookie. As of this post, I'm tied for last place.

Where Have All the Comments Gone?

While I keep this blog for me as a venting outlet, a journal, a place to write...yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, we all know the truth is that comments are one of the, NO, I dare say, comments are THE major perk of blogging. We press the ___ Comments link and allow our praise junky selves to take over for a moment, pumping the sweetness of validation into our blood stream. And for the high that minute brings, our insecurities and self doubts slip away and we have proof: we are funny and smart and our kids are adorable and we're so witty and a great teacher and of course we're justified in stealing that parking space at Hell-Mart. Yes, comments are the methamphetamine of the blogging world.

And we are all addicted. Me included. I am a comment fiend. A comment whore. A comment glutton. I love comments. I revel in them. When my comment counter reaches the double digits I feel like I finally got tickets to Oprah and the first words I hear out of her mouth are "Favorite Things" and "You get a car! You get a car!" (hey, you may have your bucket list goals, I have mine--materialistic though they may be). Even mean comments are appreciated (lie). And yet, lately it seems that my comments have melted away. And if you didn't catch that earlier, I'm addicted.

Withdrawals people. Withdrawals. I'm missing the comments. Comments are not on my list of things I want to melt away. I want chocolate to melt away in my mouth simultaneously causing a physical reaction of melt away belly fat. I want someone a la this post or this one (either will do, I'm not picky) to stare me down in longing until I think I might melt away into a puddle of hormones and weak knees and an arrhythmic heart. But comments, not so much. Nope. My inner praise junky just wants more.

So what gives? The visitor counter keeps going up. But the comments don't correlate. Are you sick of blogging? Is everyone too busy (how could you!)? Should I stop my narcissistic sniveling and suck it up (not likely--narcissism runs in my species)? Do I stink like dog food (PLEASE comment no on that one, please)? Did I offend you? Oh, if only I knew. I'd volunteer to do your laundry (if you let me use your laundry facilities to do a few of my own loads, because this morning I realized I'm down to What Not to Wear Christmas socks--okay, really, can I just come over to your house and do my laundry because it is BAD). I'd shower a bit more frequently even though it is hard on my skin this time of year. I'd smooth over the offense. With chocolate. That melts away.

So tell me, where have you all gone? Is my blog that awful? Because I really need a fix. Or at least an explanation (in comment form, of course). Seriously. Starting now would be good.

End of Term

Dear Students of ___________ High School,

In case any of you still feel the need to clarify: Yes, that IS your final grade. It is not a grade I selected for you willy-nilly. It is the grade you earned. The grade which was determined by YOUR choices. The grade that will permanently reside on your high school transcript and yes, possibly determine whether or not you get into Stanford. Let me repeat: this is YOUR grade. Deal.

Your Teacher,
The Rookie

P.S. I am sorry these years are so awkward for you, but could you please refrain from being so obnoxious so early on in the week?