12/16/08

Here's to Hoping the Newest Holiday Trends Include Bringing Back How Cool it is to Be Uncool

Dear _____________ ,

     It is so good to see you.  I hope your Merry Blessed Consumeristic Season of Buying Shit for People Because of the Pressure and the Media and the Church of Wal-Mart's Obligatory Hold on The American Psyche is going just irritatingly well enough for you to have adequate blog material for me to read.  I bought the awesomest candle ever and some chocolates for the elementary school teachers of mah Baby Bees, but I can assure you that is only in hopes that some sort of Potentially Smiting Karmic Deity (Warning:  Do Not Speak That Aloud.  Hopefully, This Warning Was Not Too Late.) will not curse me in my future of teaching with a life doomed to Potpourri and Teddy Bears.  

     The early market indicators suggest that my karma is rating at the Just Enough to Get By Without Going Postal level.  I got a D rather than an F in Real Analysis.  I know you guys thought I was being dramatic, but I tell you it's All Truth All the Time™ here.  At least there is the 1 point per hour contribution to my grade point, but degree requirements oblige I pass it with a C to graduate, so next semester while I am student teaching, I will become The Zen Master of Analyzing What's Real, which I am not all that disappointed about.  I really knew I should have dropped it, that I wasn't devoting enough time to it, but I didn't want to take the financial aid ding and scholarship repayment that would have accompanied going under full-time and I really dug my sweet Italian task-master.  I will no doubt do better a second time around.

     It seems that I have maintained, by the sliver of my fangs, a 4.0 in my UTeach coursework, however.  That I kinda care about more.  It's really the only possible GPA that I could have look good after attending UT at the ages of 18 and 19 without ever learning what a syllabus is.  That was back in the day when there were no Internets (oh, the humanity) and Registration involved some sort of snail mail ritual my parents performed of behind closed doors, the results of which can be embodied in the fact that I took Astronomy for a whole semester, final and all, before I ever realized I was not officially registered for the course and did not receive credit, except in the form of lower performances in my other classes (besides Poetry- my only A in those days, 'cause I had a crush on a classmate and attended class).

     What was I saying, ___________?  Why'd you let me get all off-track like that?  Is it because you were preoccupied by the three dream sequences you recall so vividly: the living in a cabin in a State Park for $5/ day, trying to justify the maintainability of the drive; the seeing the history of New Guinea's materialization firsthand; or the staying in the cabin-home of a woman who lived there, which featured a bedroom-only that was not enclosed to the out-of-doors where my teaching project partner and I were setting up a homey camp, mostly in the form of dealing with wood for the fire that we got going.  She even picked up a burning log and blew on it to fan the fire (oh, teh richness of metaphor).  I was concerned I had let the fire die out and being the possessor of my own talented cook hands (you know, those you acquire working in kitchens so much that you can touch hot things with bare hands for a bit of time without getting burned) was most impressed by her dual talent.

     Now, where was I?  Oh yeah, it seems I got one D in the stead of a likely deserved F, a B in a class which I had gotten a 100 on the first test- meh, and then had a minor Made-For-Television-Christmas-Miracle occur in my ultimate (as in last, though it was cool) teaching class.  My partner and I switched the topic of our semester-long project in mid-November, which was the not-lazy, definitely appropriately ambitious thing to do and had to redo all manners of shit and I ended up Pre-Final Presentation with 80 out of 100 points, leaving only 10 more available points, which is what the final presentation was worth.  Outsiders attended the presentation (our final) session to appoint grades and my partner worked her ever-lovin' ass off to make a great presentation structure while I 24-hour stayed up to complete the video that was originally due just before Thanksgiving- though our instructor gave up extension after extension, knowing our results were better for it.  I found out last night that that we were awarded the full 10 points and I eeked out a 90% in the class and now have the video-graphic skills to edit the made for tv montage.  Score one for the Jaded-Grades-Don't-Matter-As-Much-As-Having-A-Project-Based-Probability-Unit-We-Would-Actually-Teach Mothers of 7 Altogether. Though, I must credit my partner for first having that attitude, I am the one who has been assigned apprenticeship with a 6th grade class that will actually be addressing probability during our time together and can nearly immediately implement and refine the unit we designed.

     All good karma is not so satisfying it seems.  Just as I realized that the guy in front of me at the midnight pharmacy was the lead singer of Spoon only as he was leaving, and so I was not able to smile knowingly creepily a few weeks ago, I was not able to project myself into a life of Famitude™ yet again yesterday.  One would think one would learn one's lesson after chit-chatting away, 8 months pregnantly, in my then-usually ostracized friendly southern manner, with Jonathan Demme and cute-ass daughter back when I lived in Philly, without realizing he was directing That-Tom-Hanks-Movie-Down-The-Way until he'd left and my coworker was freaking out.  She brought in a VHS (oh, the technology) every shift from then on out until he came back in and signed her copy of Silence of the Lambs.  Or, perhaps, I might have learned a thing or two after chit-chattily giving detailed directions to a woman and her girlfriend to the neighborhood liquor store when working at the same gourmet grocer, but no, and so K.D. Lang knew nothing of my reverence for her awesome lesbian singing prowess until she just read this.

     Yesterday, was an errand day from teh Hell™.  Everyone and His or Her Dog in My Family has an appointment I put off until I was done with school and then there was the fact that, even though my in-laws came down to help and felt pity on our obvious deprival of ALL-THINGS-GIANT (vats of peanut butter and enough paper towels and trash bags to host a Baptist Pancake After-Church Breakfast every Sunday for a year), we had not very thoroughly grocery shopped in quite a while.  I had delusions of blogging grandeur, thinking I would stop and feign the lives of the hip and leisurely by posing with my laptop in lap and café in hand at a coffee shop (like I do all the time, but this time without the guilt of supposedly studying.)  Unfortunately, I only had enough time in the end to scarf a cookie, check and see if my other two grades were posted yet, and scorn a star.

     I was sitting there all blissfully unstylish in my black socks with olive pants, totally buttoned khaki cardigan with jean jacket atop, and hairs, not a one straightened or mod when a cute gay couple sat down at a table nearby.  They were kinda "too handsome" for the likes of me- the short one, whom I noticed looked strikingly like someone famous and had on man boots to die for, that I coveted.  I thought, "I bet people think that about him all the time," and went back to my meniality.  The tall one spoke rather loudly and I thought him slightly full of himself.  I heard bits of a conversation that seemed to be discussing if it would be appropriate for them to sit at the couch adjacent to my comfy chair since it shared the same table.  I knew they were grappling with this slightly, and would normally be inviting and do a verbal scoot over and welcome them, but instead avoided eye contact, hoping they wouldn't think it was because they were gay, but rather because I wasn't in a talkative mood.  (OMG- I spent several hours with the Genius yesterday and that boy Does.  Not.  Stop.  Asking.  Questions.)  

     The two fellows proceeded to have a nosy conversation with a guy with the bad-assest fro evah who was sporting some fancy art supplies I had also noticed walking in, as he was drawing.  They chit-chatted for a while.  I ended up putting on my headphones by this point, but was distracted by the conversation.  The sense I got from the tall guy was that of entitlement in the form of curiosity and friendliness.  If some stranger walked up and asked 
me out of the blue to read them what I was writing, as he did ask this artist to show him what he was drawing though the couple did take his card and that may have been fortuitous after all, I would be kind of offended, though, I admit, their interest did seem genuine.  In retrospect, it may have been more of a tour of the commoners as these guys did not stay long.  Their table (not at my cozy couch/ chair nook) was breezily by the door.  As soon as they left, a person from behind the counter came over to the fro-guy and said, "Do you know who that was?"  I didn't hear what they said in their hushed tones, but the couple at the next able were all like, "I know.  We were freakin' out that he didn't know."  After a couple minutes, I nonchalantly asked over, "Was that Elijah Wood?"  Yep.

     Damn, my Baby Bees would have been psyched to have Frodo's autograph, but alas and alack I am not so cool a mother as all that.  I could have run to the car and retrieved any number of meticulous medieval drawings the boys have created from the back seat of the car, had them signed and framed them.  Instead, all I got was this lousy blog post.

     I did google "Is Elijah Wood gay?" 'cause I'm uncool like that, and am apparently not the first one to have her refined senses of gaydar be fooled, not that I give a shit.  Maybe Elijah wanted to sit next to me and not-gay flirt with me.  I think there was a protectiveness on the tall guy's part.  I'm sure that the cookie crumbs I saw were still all over my shirt (even after I had walked to my car, driven to the nearby grocery store, and gone to the bathroom) would have been wonderful conversation starters.

     I am too cool.

Love, Freida

10 comments:

Cormac Brown said...

Say it ain't so, Frodo! Say it ain't so!

Actually, more power to him and whatever floats his boat. I just saw a corny pun ahead and jumped.

BabaYaga said...

Actually, your gaydar works just fine. Elwood is just trying very hard these days to appear straight. For -very long- reasons.

Utah Savage said...

Your life is far more interesting than mine, though I have endless time for feeling stupid, uncool, old, and not vacuuming or dusting.

I miss the old days when we talked to each other. Maybe I need to get a mod hair cut or something....

Comrade Kevin said...

Astronomy class in college was very interesting. Interesting in the way that a blustery asshole of an instructor who routinely berated fellow students and made at least four girls cry a semester was interesting.

That kind.

Randal Graves said...

So what you're saying is that you saved Christmas and the Hobbits from Santa who is actually a giant, disembodied eyeball and a Real Analysis teacher?

dguzman said...

Oh good, Randal cleared that up for me.

My pal Matty wants Frodo in the worst (and sexy-dirtiest) way.

Anonymous said...

You are cool. Those cookie crumbs are full of cred. And besides, you wouldn't have wanted to embarrass yourself by asking for an autograph, right? Your kids would have been caught in the cool conundrum. My mom got Frodo's autograph, but wait! my mom had to ask for it????

Karin Woywod said...

Elijah Wood was in Austin for the annual BNAT event held by Ain't It Cool News and to visit his brother Zach, who lives there.

During the course of the last week or so, Elijah has been repeatedly spotted together with his bro, so I strongly suspect the tall guy was Elijah's brother Zach.

Did the tall guy look like this ?

Zach Wood

If so, all you've witnessed was just siblings' banter and warmth between close relatives, and your gaydar has failed you . . .

Love,

- Karin.

Ghost Dansing said...

hmmm.... Frieda Bee's Blog looks strangely different than it did.....

pidomon said...

you are indeed too cool for school!