BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Sucking the Energy Right Out of Me

lack-of-energy

No, I don’t read Asian newspapers or drink tea in a tumbler, but this is too cute.

What is it?

The Heat?

The kids?

Getting up to an alarm clock even though my body desperately wants to sleep in?

Knowing that soon I’ll be on vacation for real?

I’m not sure exactly what it is, most likely a combination of all of the above, but for some reason when I get home in the afternoon, after teaching my young writers (for just three hours) I’m totally drained. I try to do something productive, like write, or do laundry, or even just read a book, but before long I’m nodding off. UGH.

I get to bed at a reasonable hour, so why I am so tired mid-day? And why is it only when I’m home alone and have the opportunity to actually accomplish so much?

Am I running from my responsibilities? Am I hiding from something I don’t want to face? Am I afraid to be alone, so I escape into sleep? I’m pretty sure the answers to those questions are no, no, and no. I’m just freaking tired.

My first guess is that it really is the heat. Carrying around all this extra weight in extreme temperatures is hard on a body. I do my best to stay hydrated and keep cool, but I think my body is fighting back, and what better way to conserve energy than to sleep?

On Friday my summer work comes to a close, and I have a few weeks of pure relaxation. I’m heading east, away from the hellfire of my chosen Southwest home, and I couldn’t be happier. In the meantime, I’m going to keep waiting until after dark to jump in the pool, and keep myself as cool as possible. After all, I chose this, and no matter what, it still beats snow any day of the year.


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Poetry Day

I’m looking forward to working with my young writers today. Our focus this morning is on poetry. We’re starting with this poem:

Legacies

BY NIKKI GIOVANNI

 

her grandmother called her from the playground

“yes, ma’am”

“i want chu to learn how to make rolls” said the old

woman proudly

but the little girl didn’t want

to learn how because she knew

even if she couldn’t say it that

that would mean when the old one died she would be less

dependent on her spirit so

she said

“i don’t want to know how to make no rolls”

with her lips poked out

and the old woman wiped her hands on

her apron saying “lord

these children”

and neither of them ever

said what they meant

and i guess nobody ever does

 

I love that poem, especially the end. Sniff, sniff. Then we have a picture book to share and we’ll do some blackout poetry. After that we’ll try our hand at writing poems inspired by the color names on paint chip samples and we’ll mess around with some words and phrases on magnets and popsicle sticks. It should be a blast. I can’t wait to hear what they come up with!


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Writing Inspirations

How to get young writers going? tetragono-lounge-chair-in-purple-velvet-lazur-living-zero-gravity-fullsizerender_15__-cushion-bedroom-cushions-for-sale-chaise-axel.jpg

How to get myself going?

One way to do it is to ask questions. From the painfully real (what do I want the world to remember about me?) to the absurd (what does purple feel like?) questions can trigger words.

Tomorrow I plan to give my young writers a list of questions to trigger their writing. They can answer all of them in a poem, or they can choose one of them to explore further, or they can design their own response. I don’t really care what they write, just that they do.

I need to take that same approach with myself. In so many ways. I need to say, “self, I don’t care what you write, as long as you write something.” Or, “self, I don’t care what kind of exercise you get, as long as you move.”

The problem is, I don’t do a very good a job of listening to myself. Fortunately, the kids listen to me better than that. They’ll read the questions and give them some thought. Then they’ll write. I think I’ll join them. After all, writing something is better than writing nothing. Now I’m off to ponder the feel of purple. I’m pretty sure it’s warm and soft, with a definite velvet feel to it. The feel of luxury. Now, on to other questions of the universe.