Give me those with money, your H2 visa suckers…

Think of New York City. If you live outside the tri-state area, you prolly think of the iconic skyline, great lady liberty over… I can’t even romanticize the Hudson, alright? Run with your mental image.

However, that pretty green lady with an iconic history carries a wonderful little ditty on her base.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

So, ignore the first half cause I’m too lazy to explain it, but lets get to the problem.

Your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free in a ten year immigration line, am I right?

On the radio this week a hot issue has been the fact that Japan has slipped into a very bad recession, and one of the major factors in this is that they have such harsh immigration rules that make immigrating near or completely impossible.

But, the second our President tries to help the millions of folks we rely on to do the shit nobody else wants to do, holy poop, bear those arms. We are a society built on immigrants. We are a country built on immigrants. From the Irish and Chinese that criss-crossed our land in railroad tracks, to the Mexican that pick our crops, we’re a country of people who came here – ‘homeless, tempest-tost’ folks, looking for a better life.

And my god, I’m going stir crazy waiting 6-9 months for my husband to get here. Can you imagine being on a ten year plus line? Can you imagine, the only life you know, being shattered because your parents, yearning to breathe free, crossed a desert and picked fruit for sub minimum wage so you didn’t grow up in a country ran by drug dealers and your options in life were prostitution or gang membership, got kicked back ‘home’?

I can’t even believe this is an issue. NONE OF US EXCEPT A VERY, VERY FEW, ARE NATIVE HERE. No matter how you slice it! People have, throughout the entire history of America, risked their very lives to get here. People have packed their eldest sons with their life savings and sent them on a journey, boats across angry seas, one canteen across sun-scorched earth, for a place that lines their streets in gold so they don’t grow up in squalor. And, eventually, they can send for their families, and life will be good, right?

Get your shit together, America. You are literally on the path of cutting off your nose to spite your face. Give millions of people the reassurance that those words, penned in 1883, still hold true, or you might as well rip the damn thing off.

Entire communities (Little Italys, Chinatowns, my hometown Polerico, a strange bastard community of Polish and Spanish) held onto their home-country values and languages and some learned broken and terrible English to leave those communities, and some still live in them and never find the need to. The transitional phase is hard, where it’s difficult to communicate and frustrating where cultures clash, but the next generation will be more accepting since they find their parent’s arrogance cruel, and then we grow as a country to include those values and cultures. Where families are united, hauled away from bad situations, from hunger and violence…

I know we’re not a society without problem cause I could go on for days about how much it sucks around here, but I can’t wrap my head around the fact that we’re openly… I CANT WRAP MY HEAD AROUND THE FACT A BUNCH OF WHITE OLD SHITHEADS continue to make the process of immigrating to our country so difficult. People are literally risking their lives for this chance. Take it as an ego boost and help them out already.

If my legal route to bring my husband here was ten years long, I would have stuffed him in my car’s trunk and figured the rest out later too.

I can’t say this is problem one of a laundry list of problems the country needs to get its shit behind, but for a start, this sure should be a top 10 one. I have met parents, whose English is near zero, near tears when they thank me, in broken, thankful words, for helping their children learn English because they believe it’s a better life for them. That’s wrong? I should be clamoring to send that guy back to his home country and leave his kids here alone? (Or worse, cart them back with him.)

We’re really missing the point that no matter how shitty we’re getting, PEOPLE STILL THINK WE’RE THE GOLDEN DOOR OF PLACES TO BE. Our President put down an start. Come forward, pay your share, and give us a chance. The ultra-violent and criminal go home.

And anyone who thinks otherwise can trace their lineage and go back to their ‘home’ countries to have the massive stick medically extracted from their ass, way cheaper than they could in the American healthcare system. Those places can toss in a free lobotomy, with love.

Reasons why I like my job.

Yesterday, my boss came to my classroom to try and get a good picture of her mischievous brat, who is also a baby model.

Oh, my god, she is a brat. I love her though. The best children are the evil ones.

So, try as mommy might, Magger-do will not smile or sit still. Shes running around my classroom being a brat until she decides to come rushing right into her favorite human tissue in the world. That’s me.

She careens right into my chest and gives the most angelic smile as I tickle her toes. Mom grabs a perfect picture, complete with my filthy work shirt. Mom, ALSO MY BOSS, cant thank me enough for getting her to hold still.

Can anyone say ‘woohoo christmas bonus?!’

Oh, and I brought my kids… no no, my amazing assistant, who is a horrible human being with a mouth of a sailor, and we get along so incredibly well, brought in leaves for the kids. Now, on note about my assistant, when one of our kids started going ‘die die die!’ instead of ‘bye bye bye!’ we laughed instead of panicked. The kids are gonna leave my classroom going ‘son of a fuck!’ at 18 months. Who let me be a teacher, really? Ahem.

One little boys face just could not stop smiling. Non stop pure MOTHER FUCKING LEAVES. OH MY GOD. I think my classroom still has bits of leaf in it once he threw them, AND THIS IS OK.

I’m also teaching them baby signs so I can communicate with the little snot bags with a small level of understanding since I tend to talk to them in two languages for shits and giggles, and since I lack adult interaction all day. But, my Japanese gets a whole lot better when we’re chatting, right kids? And, it’s a good thing for them regardless, most of them are English speakers only, with one kid being English/Swedish. Exposing them to two sets of sounds is actually a huge thing so young.

Then the shitbags they give me when my good assistant is sick can’t understand me and I can call them nasty things. Cause I am petty.

Oh and we all made handprint turkeys.

And these little poopsacks love me. I can get through a day of work politics when I’ve got a kid going PICK ME UP MOTHERFUCKER IVE GOT BONES PUSHING INTO MY MOUTH AND NEED LOVE.

Seriously, who let me get this far?

Hole of Shit.

In recent months my aunt by friendship has wondered back into my life. This isn’t a bad thing as she’s a nice person, though weirdly insistent I’m around when her and my mother get rip roaring toasty and I’m going THERE ARE VIDEO GAMES I CAN PLAY RIGHT NOW and making good one liners. But it usually results in free breakfast, so, score.

I also might have to suffer some heartfelt get togethers with my cousins by friendship where I will be painfully reminded how out of touch these people tend to be. I can act nice, and I might slightly enjoy flexing my one liner muscle. Maybe there will even get free lunch.

However, the only bit of this that totally makes me retreat to my hermitide is that said aunt is so entrenched into the holistic powers of… holisticism.. that it gets really uncomfortable.

Yeah, so that line about being out of touch? I’m not so grounded in reality myself, I spend 90% of my days in a video game, baby land, or writing my brains out, but I have a general beliefs system I stick to. It’s called “Go away.”

Kidding, but seriously.

Last night, and this whole prior week, my allergies have been 4000x worse than normal. I thought it was the new paint at work or just the last season bloom of everything. I also know what allergies feel like. My throat itches, my eyes water, I get a horrible tickle in my mouth, and I scratch everything with every chance I get. And last night, I had a bit of a tickle so I was coughing.

No where in this pattern of behavior does this suggest “please put your hands on me and tell me to breathe”. Mainly because I did not invite you to do this, and secondly, if energies and zones and all that horse poo is your thing, the ebbing aura of ‘what the fucking fuck?’ should have been as bright as a goddamed lighthouse. After a few cycles of this weird shit where I was simply going ‘CANT BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSE. ALLERGIES ARE KILLING ME’ I was ‘better’. When I coughed again, nay, the same allergy cough, ‘it had to come out’, like it was some kind of poison in my system.

But this is my thing. I know that when I take the little pink pills filled with antihistamines my allergy symptoms go away. I also get sleepy. I feel as if these two are related. I don’t take the little pills unless I need to because I get sleepy. I don’t need someone to go BREATHE THROUGH YOUR CLOGGED NOSE BECAUSE ENERGY ADJUSTMENT RABBLE RABBLE.

If this is your thing, I’m accepting of this and you are free to believe in such. Just please allow me my system of ‘modern medicine’. I’m sure yoga and meditation has a whole host of good properties, studied and proven properties, but I do not ever, ever, ever want to rejoin the cult of ‘adjustments’ and such. To me, it’s horse shit. Fresh from the asshole. If you were quite in tune with that, again, I am a shining beacon of crank and misery.

I showed off pictures of my kids and I got a lot of ‘OH THEY ARE SO SWOLLEN’ and such. Yeah, they’re babies. They do nothing but, and this is the abridged list, scream when I try to pose them for cute pictures, force them into a hot costume while the heat is on, wail that I have to change their diapers, shit with a horrid diaper rash that’s near bloody it’s so raw, whine when I don’t let them eat food off the floor, oh, and are really cranky when I offset their bottles by a half hour because our timeslot to go tick or treating is 10 minutes before they should have them….

People should put their faiths in whatever they want. If it’s something to enkindle hope, I’m glad for you. However, I also think that voicing your opinion on said matters is kinda tacky. And, yet again, ungrounded in reality. Because ‘my color was better’ after I snotted through a few breaths? Or maybe because I was trying to drain my sinuses a bit by jabbing my tongue into the roof of my mouth. I dunno. Magic and shit. I believe in medicine, tea, and booze. None of these things are immune to faults (see: lobotomies), but, if my options are ‘MAGIC HANDS OOOOH’ and ‘take benedryl feel better’, I think I shall side on the side of which works better for me.

Please take your hands off me. They are cold. My aura is screaming about it’s aura balls retreating into its aura body.

Worry.

I had this horrible dream that my husband won a lotto and he’s standing in Canada, waiting for me, and I can’t get there.

I think I’m losing it. I don’t feel like myself. I have a mantra of “you have to work because we need the money” I keep telling myself and it isn’t working anymore. All I want to do is grow wings and run. I want to be so far away that I can’t even find me. I need my muse to come find me cause it’s hiding and NaNo is moments away.

I feel like crying.

Things I regret

I really officially regret going back to work at this place.

I left the first time because of the catty, horrid women, the money hungry owners, and the absolute disregard for the wellness of the children.

I give up. Holding out for my Christmas bonus and then I’m gone.

I should have stayed in Canada.

Motherfucking echos.

I’m starting to hit the first little snags at work regarding what I believe to be the right thing to do, I dunno, I spend something like forty hours a week with these kids, maybe I know what’s going on? So, off I went to my professor just to get a reassuring pat on the head making sure I wasn’t freaking out. I did my research, I checked all my books, I sought out help, and I’ve got everyone in my corner going ‘You’re doing it right, why are you even asking?’ and my boss on the other side with her fingers in her ears going NOPE LALALALALALLALALALA.

I’m odd. Not slightly odd. Quite odd. Me and the kids celebrated: Pirate Day, Lief Erikson Day, ‘Goodbye Summer!’ and ‘moving day’. All with really relevant child-development events. I’m not joking. Lief Erikson day was ‘discovering a place to use our gross motor skills’. I just tied it to a fun event because life is more fun that way.

I do really try to put down a plan for every day, even if it’s just something like ‘make sure we take a walk today’. Something. Then, my kids will do something on their own and make my job so much easier. Last week, the found a corner of the room that echoed.

They screamed. Like fucking banshees. And laughed and laughed and laughed. And when the echos got louder and they could barely tell what sound was there, they did it again. It was amazing. I jumped right in with them. They didn’t need me to teach them shit that day. We have voices. We can ECHO. So, that we did. For two days. We screamed. Why? Cause we discovered our voices. I don’t give a shit that a parent won’t read my little blurbs about development cause I’m pretty sure none of them give a shit that we discovered a precursor to words, THEY’RE NOT SPEAKING YET WHO CARES, AMIRITE!? They wanna see cute little footprint artwork. They don’t get it. They’re missing the point. What does that teach them? (To be aggravated at me, mostly) We’re gonna strip down and put pant on the floor and wallow in it because we have ARMS and LEGS, FINGERS, TOES, an entire body we can move, AND LETS SEE IT WORK THIS PAINT GODDAMMIT.

We’re amazing and I hate, hate, hate, Kefka hate hate hate, that I can’t get people to understand that. Nothing about our classroom needs to be ‘pretty’ and ‘perfect’. I hate that ‘mother’ is an instant qualifier for knowing how to do my job for me.

I took a sick day today. My head hurts. I want to sleep.

Stories Never Die

It’s been quite a long time, my old friend.

Quite a long time indeed.

Last I saw you, we were prepping for battle.

And then you were taken away.

But no, not as a prisoner of war.

Not killed.

Stolen.

But today I watched it end.

I saw the battle unfold.

I saw beloved friends die.

I watched you fight.

All in a language I didn’t understand.

I’ll never understand.

But we’ve been reunited.

At last, I turn the pages I’ve longed to see.

And one day, I’ll understand the words I longed to read.

A Rebirth, one would say.


Today I obtained the scans to a series I started way back in high school. The translation company went out of business two book before the end and I never got to see what happened. I’ve always had my hopes fairly low, I mean, it was a crappy little Korean manwaha that I was enjoying. It’s like watching a shitty TV show from an off channel.

But, today, my lingering interest paid off. The scans are now in my possession! I HAVE THEM. I can SEE how the story ends!! Now, to save up for a translation so I can read it. Whatever. Hard part completed!

 

In other news, I feel depressed and down as fuck. I really don’t think I’m built for the widdle ones. Nobody is letting me, OR THEM, go at our own speed and it’s really frustrating. No, I’m not transitioning these kids. I spend all day with them, you don’t. I know when they are ready. Also, I love how ‘mother’ is a qualifier for everything related to childcare. That’s fantastic that you’ve spawned ONCE. I may have went to school for this. Can you listen to me for a minute?

I feel sick. I want a day off.

I am a responsible adult, part the second.

There, I’m broke, happy world? I DON’T HAVE A TRIFORCE CLOCK TO SHOW FOR IT.

*grumble grumble*

I stormed out of work today because I refused to ‘donate’ some of my time to clean my classroom. And trust me, I really wanted to clean my classroom. I wanted to mop the floors and put all the nice squeaky clean toys out in their right places… I wanted to get all the soft toys into the wash so I could make sure they came out all light and fluffy and wonderful for the next week.

INSTEAD

I went home and grumbled about how nobody warned me five minutes til the end of my shift that I had to close my room out, unpaid.

I hate this world.

I want a Triforce clock.

Instead I’m one paycheck shy of paying off the end of my husbands dumb mistakes.

…triforceclock…