Nerdfighter. Me.

I may have posted my love of John Green's books, but I also dig vlogbrothers: a youtube channel started by Green and his brother, Hank. It is a world of nerdery (mostly for the young, but I'm nerdy and young at heart, right?). Even cooler for my educator self is their Crash Course series--I'm totally using the analysis of Romeo & Juliet with my 9th graders. We'll see how they fare.

DFTBA, my friends.

let this be a lesson to you

This is why you should always choose the nerd:

He eventually grows up.

Now, can the same really be said for the one you oogled over at 14?

I didn't think so.

favorite things

Sometimes it isn't fair to be 30 and single. It isn't fair to have crushes like you're still 13, armpits sweating in said crush's presence. It isn't fair to still be in a singles' ward with people who: A. graduated this year and, B. will probably marry before you will--maybe even this year (2011 has to be big for somebody).

Sometimes it feels impossible to remember how blessed you really are. Or that, were you to have married the same year you graduated, your life wouldn't be as beautiful as it currently is. Still, sometimes it doesn't feel fair.

Sometimes, however, the thing that can make your pity-party kind of day much better is a little Sound of Music action.


I double dare you to watch it and not feel even just a little bit better.

Dear Powers That Be:

1. Pray tell. Is there any possibility that the world's worst tasting substance (cough syrup) could be made more pallatable? I know I'm stuffed up as I swallow such wretchedness. I know this is supposed to soften the blow. But, you see, nothing gives me the dry heaves and the shivers quite like the stuff. And, for the record, the dry heaves in combination with a cough happens to be an ugly, ugly situation.

2. "Guy timing." Really? Can't we just call it what it is? (That being cowardice and distraction via electronics, naturally.)

3. Tagging. Graffiti. Label it as you choose (no pun intended). Let's discuss this little phenomenon. As an educator I really, really, really, really loathe/despise/hate this particular "art" form. Could some kind of vicious karma quickly mark the perpetrators? I'm not necessarily asking for maiming. Just some kind of semi-permanent, obnoxious or possibly humiliating marking on their persons made worse each time they mark something that isn't theirs. A minor stigmata of sorts. Acne doesn't count.

4. May I request Diet Coke in heaven? Or will I have to break that habit sooner than later?

5. Thank you for good girlfriends, old and new. I spent last night laughing with a couple of new ones over minestrone soup. I think good people make the world go round. I really do. I like talking to women. We're kind of awesome. Keep it coming.

6. I tried making chocolate chip cookies again on Monday. I even used Martha Stewart's fail-safe recipe. And again, my cookies bled into one another, spread out like pancake batter so thinly I could barely scrape them off the cookie sheet. I now have a tupperware dish filled with cookie bits that are soft and delicious, but look nothing like actual cookies. What can be done about this? Why must I always fail at cookies?

7. #2, the apartment next door, is being renovated at the moment. Because I have to listen to hours of pounding and banging and wall-rattling in my time off, may I somehow be reimbursed for the nuisance? Perhaps my future husband can move in next door. Yes, I think that would eliminate the bitter memory of the renovation annoyance quite sweetly.

8. Could the parents of my 10th grade honor boys form an alliance against their sons? You may have noticed, powers that be, that these young fellas are all growing braided Padowan-style side tails behind their ears. Perhaps this parent alliance could set a date and cut off aforementioned braided tails while their little lads sleep.

9. Nail polish chipping: I'm rather weary of this. Let's arrange something, shall we? I need at least a good week out of one paint job. Do you have any idea how long it takes for that stuff to dry and harden? It isn't right that somewhere between 24 and 48 hours later the things start looking like they've faced a jack hammer.

10. Please inform the individuals in the cars in front of me that when the sign that says "End School Zone" appears, that means it is time for you to resume the regular speed limit.

11. Quiet classrooms are beautiful things to behold. But then, so are noisy classrooms in which the noise all relates to social learning. Might you magnificent powers that be arrange to have the appropriate noise levels correlate with the appropriate moments in the arc of a lesson? I don't think I'm asking much here.

12. When I grow up, can I be as cool as some of my students? Seriously, I have never met such amazing 17 year olds as some of my AP kids. I was certainly not that brilliant or self-composed. I didn't have the keen taste in music and style sense that these individuals possess. I was awkward and insecure. I made up for it by behaving like a bit of a drama queen. All I ask is that, one day, I match them in their grace, goodness and nonchalant hip-ness.

13. Way to keep the inversion at bay. That sucker is depressing. I like to see the sky outside my window. I like the way the clouds shift and churn like a kaleidoscope. I like that the horizon is something tangible once again.

14. You know how I've been randomly waking up at two or three a.m.? You know how I look at my clock in panic only to realize I've a few more hours in bed? Let's just say I prefer these moments with the quick slide back into sleep. I prefer these half-awake peeks at the clock far more than those days I wake up seven minutes before the alarm goes off. Like today.

15. Can I have Javier Bardem for my 30th birthday? Pretty, pretty, pretty please. With a cherry on top.

my day job is, in a word, awesome

Overheard today:

"I can read girls better than I can read this book, teacher."

Is it wrong that I kind of want lessons?

Because I'm pretty sure my students are smoother

with the opposite sex than I am.

Just Another Manic Monday

Dear Clean and Unfolded Laundry,
You have taken up residence on my sofa. The goal is to fix that this evening. I only said it was the goal. I made no promises.

Dear Grocery Store Peeps,
It was really uncool that you put Chicken with Rice cans in the Cream of Chicken soup dispenser. My creamy turkey enchiladas are going to be...fascinating tonight (no thanks to you).

Dear Adolescent Males the World Over,
Nobody (I repeat NOT A SINGLE SOUL) thinks you're as funny as you think you are. I would say I hate breaking that news to you, but the truth is I get a sick kind of pleasure from it.

Dear Boy Who Called Me at 11:30 on a School Night,
Who does that? Did it really take you that long to muster up the courage? Bless your heart.

Dear Purple,
I think I've fallen in love with you. You're a rather dreamy color, you know.

Dear Two Pounds Gained over Thanksgiving,
Do I just accept you until January or try and do something about it? It just feels like such a worthless cause with Christmas around the corner.

Dear Cancun,
I miss you and I've never even met you. April 16th, my love. April 16th.

Dear Snow,
You're like one of those mean girls: you look pretty but deep down inside you're cold, heartless, and bitter.

For Your Monday Viewing Pleasure:

Dear Blogging Friends,

I am writing to let you know that I really, really, really wish I could throttle certain 9th graders. Particularly those of the male variety. I am weary of their inconsiderate choices, their troublesome behavior, their immaturity, and the messes they seem to trail behind them. You know how the news loves to portray these awful stories of teachers having indecent relationships with their 9th grade students? I am here to say these teachers are certifiably insane. There is nothing, I repeat, NOTHING that could behoove me to spend more time than is absolutely necessary in their presence. 14-15 year old boys are awful, awful people.


I also have a blog post marinating in my brain about men who used to be 14-15 year old boys. But I don't want to sound bitter and nasty. I'm debating how to broach this particular little subject. And my date last week. And what it means to be my age, female, LDS, living in Utah, and single.

In happier news, it is my 30th birthday in March. I only turn 30 once so the roommate and I have decided that a dream vacation to Cancun is in order. It will have to wait until my Spring Break in April, but we're definitely going. We've talked to the travel agent, we've looked (and looked and looked and dreamed and looked some more) at the pictures of our resort, I even dreamt about it last night. We are going for a week-long vacation of beautiful beaches, room serviced breakfasts of fresh fruit on our deck with a hammock, snorkeling, resting, reading, kayaking, ruins, bartering with the locals, and relaxation. And watching thousands of drunk co-eds drown all memory of their spring break. I can hold out until April 16th, right? Perhaps this demands a paper chain?



So there you have it. A snapshot of my brain's musings at this particular moment in time. Tell me, dear reader, what is haunting, frustrating, or eagerly awaiting you?


Love,
Brooke

Don't Fall Off Your Chair, But...

It is days like today that I understand why I'm single.

I have a date tomorrow night.

And, as you may have noticed, I very rarely date.

It is, at the technical level, a blind date. We've talked on the phone, he seems, well--normal.

At least so far.

But here is the thing about first dates--they are, as you probably well know, outright awful. One of my favorite things to do when going out on weekend nights with my favorite girls is to observe the first date awkwardness that others at the restaurant are enduring. I thank the powers that be that it ain't me. Because, while those poor kids are nervous and trying to impress or not send the wrong signals or not say something stupid or to ask plenty of questions and not hog the conversation, I am having a perfectly delightful, relaxed time.

Behold, Awkwardness Exhibit A:


Awkwardness Exhibit B:


But tomorrow night, it will be me in the awkward seat. Me sitting beside a stranger, watching a high school football game. Me thinking, "Did I really just say that?" Me trying to pretend like I know anything about football.

It is moments like this that I remember the exact reason I'm single.

The truth is, I really hate to date.

This must be why I'm holding out for Javier.

Things I'd tell you if I could

A friend from high school recently tagged me in several photographs found in the typical Facebook old-school photo album. Most of the photos were from my senior year of high school. My hair was long. Really long. I was skinny but, naturally, thought I was fat. I was beautiful and thought myself ugly. So, after reading this. And this (she does a series of these, by the way), I've decided I need to write my own advice to my adolescent self.

1. You are beautiful. Stop looking at Seventeen and you'll start to realize that fact.
2. Cut your hair. It will save you time, money on hair products. And you'll love it so much more.
3. Embrace your freckles. One day someone will stare at the one on your top lip and it will drive him crazy in a good way.
4. Go to bed earlier.
5. College will be better than this.
6. You are talented, intelligent, and worthwhile. You needn't change a thing about yourself.
7. Except, please, for the love of all that is good and holy, just smile for the damn camera. Enough with the thumb and forefinger at the chin GQ pose!
8. Mascara is sometimes all you need on that face.
9. Stay out of the tanning bed. You're fair skinned and freckled and it could easily lead to cancer.
10. Wear shorter skirts while you can.
11. Accent that little waist. Don't hide behind clothing that is too big.
12. Flirt more with the boys. They like you. They really do.
13. Be bold. You are allowed to express your own will. If someone hurts you, tell them.
14. Don't say "sorry" or "just kidding" so much. Own what you have to say. It is of value.
15. Wear tampons earlier in life. It will change your life and save you from embarrassment.
16. Be foolish and silly. This is the time for such things.
17. Always be a loyal friend to people who do the same in return.
18. Love that body. Treat it with kindness. Don't eat a bag of chips from the vending machine for lunch just because your friends do. Keep dancing, even if it is in your living room.
19. Your greatest asset will be a good bra. I promise.
20. Don't think you need to listen to the same pop music your friends do. Trust in your instincts and good taste.
21. Sometimes those boys are teasing you because they think you are attractive.
22. Take chances and risks and listen to what the deepest part of yourself is saying.
23. Write thank you notes to your teachers. Most of them are working hard for kids just like you.
24. You really will be just fine when some people don't like you. Chances are you don't like them much either.
25. Don't be embarrassed of your parents. They are amazing, likable people.
26. Oh, and one last thing: could you whine and cry and throw an immature fit or 48 in order to make your parents pay for braces. Push the issue. Your nearly 30-year-old self with the increasingly crooked front tooth will thank you.

**Not quite during my adolescence--but, my, was I young!

Totally Geek to Totally Chic: Celebrating Brainiacs

I think we've all established that I have a thing for Javier Bardem.

And who wouldn't, really?

Have you seen Eat, Pray, Love?

This is how I like to think it ends, just in case you haven't gone to the theatre yet:

You can thank me later for summing it all up so nicely for you--

thus saving you the $8.50 you would have spent at the multiplex.

Dear Javier, you can be my champion any time.

But enough about Javier and me.

Did I ever tell you about my affinity for geekish-ness?

About how I think the sexiest part on a man is his brain?

How intelligence gets me a bit hot and bothered?

Because it does.

Very much so.

Take, for instance, this guy:

Host of NPR's (and now Showtime's) This American Life.

Radio personality, master story teller.

Dear Mr. Glass, I have a crush on you and always will.

I'm hoping to run into you (or your brain-alike) at the bookstore.

And I can't deny it...

Dr. Drew Pinsky is a stone cold silver fox.

No one can change my opinion on this.

See:

AND he offers psychological savvy and know-how to boot.

And what about the witty banter of the one and only Mo Rocca?

I just think he'd be a most excellent dinner date.

(And he wears dark rimmed glasses.

Some folks are odd about the fellas in spectacles--

not me.)

As long as I get to keep my beverages

from exploding through my nostrils

whilst laughing uncontrollably--

which sometimes happens when Mo's on TV.

If Mo's busy, I could always settle for him:

That pensive/furrowed brow thing lets me know dear Jon is thinking. A lot.

And if we haven't already established this

Intelligence = Attraction

Lest you think Jewish men are the only ones who stand a chance--

and because we really shouldn't forget the brilliance of some of my favorite writers.

I have to give a few nods to some of my favorite minds.

You see, sometimes I exit the world of a novel or a poem I'm reading

and the whole thing is just dripping from me.

I can't help it,

I've fallen in love with whomever it is that wrote the thing.

Left smitten with their words, their ideas,

the images they've introduced to my mind,

the fluid music of their prose.

Seamus Heaney: I bow in obeisance to you.

You brilliant, brilliant man.

(By the way, if you still looked like this photo

and used that strong Irish accent of yours

it would all be over for me.)

And while I don't usually go for the wild-haired,

"Barbaric Yawp"

Walt Whitman look,

Cold Mountain and The English Patient

have me considering these two authors:

Charles Frazier

and Michael Ondaatje

Because the boys have talent and soul and

let their perfect words fall on the page like a lovely summer rain.

And because good haircuts are easy to come by.

Intelligence, on the other hand, is rare.

And oh-so-much more satisfying.