Small Town Wren

Between my server going down and a ridiculous amount of work that had to get done yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to post. Much apologies for the interrupted service.

Let’s see, what have I missed? Well, there was the earthquake that happened yesterday morning. You know, the 3.8 magnitude earthquake with the epicenter about 12 miles from my domicile that woke pretty much everyone up at exactly 4:00am. I had the added pleasure of having a puppy launch herself onto my body in a fit of panic.

Another thing that happened yesterday was a touch embarrassing. I was taken out by a first grader. And I don’t mean on a date. I was pretty much bowled over by an autistic seven-year-old. Sweet kid and, to some extent, my fault. If I’d been watching my buddy a little closer I could have stopped him from waving and thus prompting a bit of a freak out on the other child’s account. Gosh darn my kid being so friendly! Luckily, it turned out okay and I managed to get my buddy out of the way so I was the one who got run into and not him.

As for today: today was a special day. Today was 100 Day! Our kids had their 100th day of school today (thought it’s only my 97th; shhh). So I got to wear my educational tshirt on a non-friday and was given an awesome sticker. And boy did we count to 100 a ridiculous amount of times. Out entire day was filled with math activities involving counting to 100 and kids brought in collections of 100 things and it was awesome and silly.

I have a very funny feeling that this new semester of graduate school is going to bring more than its fair share of funny/sad anecdotes. I don’t want to imply that I don’t like my professors or my fellow students–that’s hardly the case at all–I just find many of them to be…interesting. While I have enjoyed getting mad props for my crazy organizational colored pens and matching colored highlighters, that’s the only consistent thing about all of my classes so far that I’ve enjoyed (besides a few choice classmates who are in all of my classes).

As for the anecdotes…I somehow always get elected to be secretary of X, Y, & Z due to my compulsive organization. This leads me to reading much more of my classmates’ work than most others do. Today I had the pleasure of reading a summary that was twice as long as the text it was trying to summarize. I’m not even sure what to do with something like that. I’m not even sure how that works, period.

I’m still baffled.

I found this cute little guy on my sink last night.

Cute little 9/18 spotted ladybug. Probably what that wolf spider the other night was stalking. I prefer the ladybugs. They’re symbols of luck!

This would be the spider hanging out on the mirror above my sink.

A: When you walk out of work and a sheet of ice is covering all your windows inside your car. Thank goodness I was stupid and touched the windshield in front of the driver’s seat a few months back so that part didn’t freeze over.

I’d have a picture of it, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back outside.

My buddy and his mother presented these to me today. They baked them together this morning. It was such a sweet gesture and he held them out to me with such pride. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go without seeing his smiling face for a whole nine days. Let’s not even think about Christmas.

Let me preface this with the fact that I am not a softy. I spent four years in New York City riding the MTA. I’ve been groped. I’ve been flashed. I’ve been eyed. Hell, I was once even threatened with a knife by a crazy man on the A at 3:00am because I was reading a book and he was convinced it was about him. Yeah, I’m not some scaredy-cat.

Chicago’s transit system is generally a much friendlier place than the MTA. I’ve never really had to put up with a lot of things that are just part of life in New York. For instance, I have never-ever been touched inappropriately–on accident or otherwise–on the CTA. I’ve never seen genitals on the CTA either.

Last night, however, was by the far the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been made to feel on any public transportation system. It started on the Red Line. I sat down at around 9:30. About 15 minutes later I felt the prickle of being watched. And then I noticed this guy just staring at me. He looked away as soon as I spotted him. No big deal, I told myself. I’m used to being looked at: I am an attractive young woman after all (not that it makes it okay for dudes to stare at me all creepy like). But again, it didn’t rattle me.

But then he kept staring at me. His eyes kept finding me and the look he had was not the kind I’m used to dealing with. It was all out staring, and without embarrassment at all.  And it made me uncomfortable. I’ve never felt that uncomfortable before from just being looked at.  I felt uncomfortable enough that when we reached my stop, I waited for the doors to open before collecting my stuff and rushing out.

I thought that would be that. I kind of laughed at myself when I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t there. And he wasn’t. I didn’t see him.

I walked up Adams to Union Station to get on the Metra back to Aurora. I got in a car and sat down, pulled out my book, and thought I’d just read for the 20 minutes until the train was scheduled to leave. But then I felt that prickle again. I looked around but nothing. Then I looked up. Sitting above and across from me, and still staring me down, was the dude from the Red Line.

Okay, it’s one thing to be a creepy dude staring at me on a train, it’s an entire different thing to follow me to a different train and continue being creepy. I texted my sister and a friend immediately, then promptly switched cars. Luckily, I did not see him again.

The whole situation really shook me though. I’ve never felt that vulnerable in a public space before. I’ve never felt so violated without being touched. I’ve never felt so threatened without an exchange of words.

I mean, WTF? Why do some men feel like this is acceptable behavior? I am a woman, but I’m a human being first. Don’t follow me and certainly don’t be a creepy fuck about it.

I still have my ode to Halloween in the works, but I’m still quite exhausted from all the antics. I do, however, have bruises, and how I love them.

I look like a battered woman, and in some ways, I am.  A lover or dis-affectionate friend did not give these to me, however.  The best party in the world did.  I spent Halloween in a mosh pit, and I fought hard.

I love my job.  Don’t ever get me wrong about that.  I love scampering off to Kindergarten every day and greeting my class’s students.  I love when my special buddy comes racing towards me with a huge grin on his face.  I love everything about being a SpEd paraprofessional.

The thing I don’t like is all the pee.  Especially when that pee winds up on me.

Excitement is great, especially when my buddy is excited.  He can be stubborn sometimes, and tired other times, and sometimes things are just all wrong for no reason at all.  So when he’s psyched about things, I’m psyched.  And we celebrate our triumphs with everyone: showing off stickers earned, sharing our drawings from art, giving and receiving hugs several hundred-thousand times a day.

My buddy’s been having trouble with storytime lately, which is really unusual. Especially in art class.  I don’t mind being a mountain for him, but for him to climb me during storytime is inappropriate, and I know he knows it is.  And I feel terrible struggling with him to face forward, to look at the pictures.  It’s so frustrating because he loves art.  Once we get started with projects, he happily trots along with paint, pastels, pencils, whatever.  He thinks it’s wonderful (and I think it’s wonderful that he thinks it’s wonderful).

We drew robots today.  He was so proud of his, and so was I.  He drew it mostly himself with just some hand stabilizing support.  We were both so proud, and we went and showed everyone we could find his wonderful robot.  But it just so happens that art runs right up to our potty time.

I have to admit, I laughed the entire time.  Even when some of his tinkle squirted onto my foot, I giggled.  Because he was so giddy and happy about his robot, he could not stand still long enough to pee only in the toilet.  No, we had to dance while peeing.  And as most grown ups know, one should not dance while one pees.  But we danced today, and giggled.  And I was so proud because when he was done, he grabbed some toilet paper and helped me clean up.  Not very many other six-year-olds would have helped me without any prompting.  But my buddy did. And we laughed and danced the whole time.

I lied. There is no down side.