article iou's for when i feel better

1. lockdown and codes
2. leave no child behind AKA make 13 kids suffer for the benefit of 7
3. propaganda
4. homo-hatred
5. analysis of things
6. refusing to conform to bullshit social rules AKA how to fuck up your life in ten different ways
7. deconstruction of the bill of rights
8. my cats
9. my inability to play puzzle games when i am upset. My inability to function when I am upset.
10. rumors, gossip, lies and hearsay

**anything else you want me to babble about, let me know.

Mock Lock

I am probably not supposed to talk about lockdown procedures. I am probably not supposed to discuss anything. We had a play lockdown at work today. The event in itself was no big deal, but the rumors I hear around it are. I heard, from the students, that teachers told them the timing of the drill had nothing to do with the war. The impression I was given was that the drill had everything to do with this, since there is a new procedure added if it is a statewide code red lockdown. I found out that I am permitted to physically restrain students from leaving the classroom in a real lockdown scenario. This makes me uneasy. . . because I can put myself in the kids' shoes. I would not want anyone laying a finger on me if I chose to flee the room. While I personally have no qualms about taking someone down or holding them back (in a physical sense. this does not make me nervous. i'm the first to intervene in fights and whatnot), I don't think it is necessarily right, unless we're talking child (under 12) or a student who has some kind of disability. Yes, I would make sure a 6 year old didn't leave, but their mindset is different from a 17 yr old. You have to wonder which is worse-- being a sitting duck waiting in a corner of a room for a "potential threat," or running away possibly facing danger, possibly facing freedom. Like I said, I tend to get in the middle of things, and can easily see myself getting out there trying to take down somebody with a gun because 1) maybe I'm crazy like that 2) it wouldn't be the first time I've encountered violence or firearms, and 3)sometimes if you wait for the police or someone else to intervene, it is too late. I don't know what I am trying to say here. This is all speculation since I have never been out in such a situation before where I had to simultaneously protect others and protect myself.

Satsuma

the short story
I had fun.

the long story

My last block class was hell today, and so afterwards, I was determined to make the rest of my day feel like life is worth living. I got a ton of neat stuff at the post office, including a zine that Erin made especially for me (as well as a whole box of goodies from her including chocolate, hello kitty candy, a bumpersticker, a postcard, zines, and a turtle. Did I leave anything out? Oh, and pin up girls). Justine sent me a zine book! I got a lovely letter from Roni, who has beautiful handwriting, by the way (Roni, I'll respond to something you brought up in the letter...later...). I went to Target and got myself new underwear, pink kitty socks(!), and a new purse, and some barrettes.

When I finally got home, I got an email from D* who said he was gonna call me this weekend but "didn't". Turns out he did call, but the male voice on the answering machine threw him for a loop. So, I called him today and we made plans to meet at the bookstore. Yes, I went out of my way to try and look fly, and I put all kinds of smeary black eyeshadow on. No, Karl, I am not a slacker of a student who would blow off class (even a bad bad class) to go on a date. My professor is out of the country this week, so I didn't have class. And as I've been saying, it's a damn shame she doesn't stay out of the country.

So, I get to the bookstore early (of course) and grab a bunch of anarchist and anti-war magazines, because we need appropriate material to be reading for when my army date comes in. ha ha ha. I go to get a scone and soda, and who do I see working there but this chick who used to read poetry all the time at the bookstore in Manchester. We used to hate each other. It was strange, because I was sincerely happy to see and talk to her, and she sounded the same way. It's like an 8 year old grudge match dissipated entirely. So, I take my food and get reading about why military is bad, and in comes my buddy D*. I thought we were just gonna hang out there, but no, he actually wanted to take me someplace.

I"m not a huge movie-watcher, but I said,well, movies would be fine. (I was really looking for an excuse to grope him in the dark, but shush). So, he drives...which means...I got to ride in a Mustang convertible. Hardcore. Yes, it's red. We decided to watch Hunter, because well, it was a toss up between that which was described as "bloody violence" and another movie that just had "violence". We go up to pay, and this couple behind in line gave us free movie passes. Hardcore!!! Watched movie...will spare the details, though nothing really happened, except I finally got to thrill somebody with my gun and knife and brawl stories. Then we went to a bar (!) and talked for a few hours. The bar-lady kept bringing him more beers even though he said only one, and I only had a water. When he gets the bill, they only charged him for one. I did too threaten to slap him just on principle if he mentioned that they undercharged him.

Anyway...I learned a few interesting things. Such as, a few classmates asked D* if he and I were like boyfriend and girlfriend. How cute is that?
And, he got booed off stage while singing in a karaoke bar with my professor...at a gay bar on drag night, in Provincetown.
Okay, that's more than anyone needed to know. The point is, I wish I could spend more weeknights like this instead of in that hell ren class trying to keep my eyes open. Oh yeah, and I had fun for once.

Class

[This is not my response to We Have Brains]

I have no class. No sophistication. No elegance. Appropriate words do not roll off my tongue. I don't knpw which fork is for salad, and don't care because I have pie first. I have no sense of grace. When I sit, I don't cross my legs.

Instead, I stutter getting the words out. My thoughts are apparent in my facial expressions. I laugh too loud. Talk too fast and loud. I plunk myself down. When the waiter comes over I alway order first. I am perpetually dishevelled. My underwear or a bra strap always seems to be hanging out. I stomp my feet when I walk. In class, I call out.

I ain't got no class. And that's alright by me.