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I’m not made of puppets, so you can’t blame me for Youtube

Published December 7, 2017 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

As I said the other day, it’s chaos (be kind). Well certain recent events have compromised my kind nature, gentle spirit and otherwise cherublike demeanor. I will not go into it here, as it is not my own personal business.

I had the kind of day where you just want to throw yourself on the floor and roll around like a dust bunny, but you can’t because even though you only got 5 hours of sleep, you still have to corral and herd and possibly teach 9 year olds.

Highlight 1: One of my ELL’s, a sweet but intense Burmese boy who doesn’t quite have a grip on euphemisms and idioms, decided he would bust out with an Elvis impersonation to Santa Claus is Comin’ to town. Even better, this is apparently a dance that he does with his brother.

Low spot: One of my other students who has more angst than a 13 year old girl, was really down so I let his parents know because the same parents are very, very concerned. (this is not a bad thing.) However, I used half of my lunch talking to one parent, then the other parent showed up, which took the other half of my lunch.

In the conversation with the other parent, it was implied that this child did not have any interest in Social Media (re:Youtube and that vines/videos that feature Jake and/or Logan Paul) before this year because of the way last year’s teacher managed the classroom differently.

The teacher they had last year is a nun, and last year all of the kids were a year younger.

Somehow, this parent managed to imply that I am the one who is responsible for the social media that he is interested in and that I should stop any exposure the child may have to any of it.

I called The Mom to vent and she said that I should bring my puppets ( I have a full set of puppets) to do a story time. I told her, “I’m not made of puppets, Mom.” This of course made both of us stop for a minute. Then I realized that I definitely need more sleep.

And I’m not responsible for Youtube.

How are we supposed to have a cult with these personalities?

Published November 21, 2017 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Logan Paul. Jake Paul. Rebecca Black. Kardashian. Kanye and all of the other Jackasses and Catfishes

I wonder what song Living Color would write if they were to reboot their song.

I have been compiling some research about this culture of rudeness that I see springing up all around me. This is just a preface to the longer blog that I will be posting. I just wanted to get this down because I am furious.  Twenty minutes ago, when I went to pick up my students from the gym, one of them, the hardest working and sweetest one of them was crying. Because at 10 minutes til eight, someone had already teased him to the point of crying.

I have no idea why.  After this, all of my boys commenced to talking about the latest Logan or Jake Paul video.

It’s really making me angry..

Not much, how about you?

Published October 30, 2015 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am having a whole barrel full of First World Problems, and we all know that the only thing good that comes in barrels is pickles and monkeys, but not together.  Imagine opening a barrel and having  a whole bunch of monkeys come springing out slinging Hamburger Dill Slices.

I got up this morning when the alarm went off. However, I did not stay up. I stayed in prime dozing position as the clock clicked down the amount of time I can wait to reasonably expect that I won’t be called into work for the morning. It was raining pretty hard, so I was grateful to have the opportunity to lie about.

When I finally decided to get out of bed, I discovered that my Kindle wasn’t where I thought it was. This is not a big deal because I clearly have a myriad of ways to amuse myself and stay connected to the internet, etc.  But once I got the idea in my head,  I became like a thing possessed. I know I didn’t take it out of the house yesterday because I had two very informative and productive meetings. ( I won’t talk about it yet; I don’t want to jinx it.)  and then I went to give blood so the people at the blood bank would stop guilt calling me.

I know the thing is in the house. It is not a necessity to my life or the survival of the human race. I have plenty of books to read, so that’s taken care of. I’m just maddened that I can’t find it.

And today, I just can’t get my brain to settle. It’s running around my head poking my in the psyche and the guilt centers.  I need to be writing more, I need to be cleaning more, and I probably could be improving myself in some other way, but all I could bring myself to do was watch videos on youtube and make notes on every weird thought that crosses my mind.

Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Did Hitler escape to Argentina? Why is this important now? Shouldn’t we have been more concerned in 1939? Or am I out of line for saying so.

My least favorite transitory phrase is “Due to the fact . . . . ” or ” Because of the fact . . . . ”   I personally think it is a lazy transition, and it was also one of the AATGH’s favorites.  That coluld be part of it.

I also sprayed myself full on in the face with glasses cleaner.  True, I wasn’t wearing my glasses at the time, so I couldn’t really judge which way the nozzle was facing, but still, it did make me feel a bit stupid. I think that’s the point where I decided I was just going to give up on anything that would require effort today.

So there.

I mention it yet again

Published December 2, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Most of my problems today are First World and I acknowledge that I have a pretty damn terrific life with a family that loves me, and a roof over my head and high speed internet and a mother who will bring me painkillers, a pumpkin spice latte and a snowman  cookie, but there are still a bunch of things, that, quite frankly, hork me royal.

I do not like some blog platforms (Yes, I know they’re free and I’m getting what I paid for so shut up already.) because they continually change things in an effort to make things easier. They have playskooled me into confusion. (I’m pretty sure they weren’t aware that THIS user is not all that friendly.) 

I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday while performing the strenuous task of unloading the dishwasher. I am much better today, but my schedule has seriously been compromised (and I didn’t get to use my great Barnes and Noble coupon!)  

I feel unproductive and wan. And I hate it. I think I still have some painkiller residue slowing me down. I want to actively research the topic “Who is this crazy bitch?” by following up on random articles in a variety of magazines. (I got this idea from Jezebel’s article about  “Fit Mom” (the woman who posed in a bikini with her three children and the caption “What’s Your Excuse?) being banned from Face Book over the weekend for Fat-Shaming. 

http://jezebel.com/fit-mom-banned-from-facebook-for-fat-shaming-is-sorry-1472563091

That, coupled with many, many clips from Youtube on Black Friday give me a great platform off which to jump. 

This could lead to a  variety of related projects:Crazy bitches through the ages and why didn’t the cool chicks smack them a good one? 

Wonder if I could get The National Endowment for the Humanities to underwrite that. 

It all depends on the question

Published November 12, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

It’s no big secret that I am prone to slack. (If you did not know that, sorry to shatter your illusion. I would formally apologize but that would take effort.)

I don’t think I’m lazy, per se. It’s just that if nothing specific is required of me, I won’t do anything.

I get a lot done on days when I HAVE to do something. Days like today where I don’t have a specific time table I find myself discovering answers to seriously unimportant questions:

1) How much time can I waste watching Weird Al videos on Youtube? 45 minutes.

2) How hard is it to ignore my to do list? It’s the easiest thing about the list.

3) How many times will I say, out loud, to no one, I need more coffee?   Five times then I decide I will just suck the caffeinated residue at the bottom of the cup.

4) How many times will I bang my knee on the bottom of the desk before I actually move my chair the two inches it would take to avoid such a fate?  Somewhere upwards of twenty-five.

5) How long will I sit at the computer babbling about my own laziness before imparting actual knowledge? 67 Minutes and it depends on what you call actual knowledge

Todd Ray owns an operates The Venice Beach Freakshow in Los Angeles. He displays two headed creatures. Among these is a two headed snapping turtle named Thor and Loki.

The best part about the turtle is that it bit Todd.

I think it’s nature’s way of showing who is the real Freak at the Show.

Go get ’em Thor-Loki!

Miley Cyrus taught me something about Syria

Published August 26, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Miley Cyrus may have just taught me a thing or two about Syria.

I woke up this morning, feeling not at all like P.Diddy, but actually thinking about him a little bit. I enjoy getting my news and relevance in tiny bite size chunks. This ensures that I won’t learn too much in one sitting and then need a mental Heimlich. (Once again, you may quote me, but PLEASE refer anyone who seems interested to my web page and to this blog.  www.ellesview.com)

One of my new favorite time sucks is watchmojo.com’s YouTube channel. There’s a bunch of neat top 10 lists such as the best astronaut movies or best disaster movies.  It’s definitely worth checking out.  I wandered onto a list that mentioned the movie Monster’s Ball. I wondered briefly how I managed to leave this off of my blacktress sorrow film festival. Every person in this movie gave terrific, understated performances. Sean (Diddy) Combs is in this and gives a surprisingly wonderful portrayal of a man on Death Row.

So my brain was already attuned to the pop culture scene this morning when I checked the news feeds this morning, the various stunning VMA performances popped out at me.  If you haven’t seen La Miley’s interesting presentation, by all means, warp your soul a little and check it out on the YouTube.

It was effective and disturbing. I am not disturbed by her. I could not give a teeny tiny little rat’s ass what moral code she may be violating by basically grinding her cute butt to force her Disney Diva persona to run away, screaming, into the night.  I’m disturbed by the bear shaped space ship (A bear wearing a Geordi LaForge visor.) in which she arrived on stage. Ambien night mare bears  danced around while some dancers wearing some bizarre bear backpack things gave La Miley something to do while she made the kind of  face that little kids do when they have accidentally let an aspirin dissolve on their tongues.

Later on I was exposed to the concept that characters relay the writer’s theme to the audience. The case in point was Medea. The concept is that while Medea appears selfish on the surface but there’s so much more behind it.  Medea doesn’t murder her children because of HER hubris. She kills them to protect them from Jason’s Hubris. (World’s worst Greek Restaurant.)   The play itself can be seen as an allegorical representation of Greek society. Jason met and married Medea when he was on his By-Any-Means-Necessary-World-Tour. A few kids and sometime later he gets tired of Medea and he thinks, “Hey, she’s not Greek, so she’s not worthy of me.  I think I will go find myself a shiny new wife.”  He forgets that Medea literally ripped her brother limb from limb to help Jason escape her father.

Jason, don’t cross that crazy bitch.

We all know the tragic result of Jason’s Hubris and Bitch Crazy.  The concept of character revealing the theme made me think about Miley.

She is a character in this Human Comedy.  She just can’t decide which character she is. We know what we want her to be.  We want her to be a fun filled distraction from whatever else is happening. Like Syria. I realize I know much more about Medea and Miley than I do about the crisis in Syria. What my tired brain has managed to cobble together is that Assad has used chemical weapons on the Syrian people.  Assad has been warned that if he crosses this line, there will be consequences. Consequences that could further rile up things in the Middle East.  Miley is gearing up for the dress rehearsal. She’s still trying on costumes and figuring out what theme she is supposed to be pushing forward in the overall story. I think it’s making her freak out.  I don’t blame her. I’m not sure I understand what she was trying to do and no one in the world wants to see me in a flesh toned vinyl bikini but when I think about what they world may be asking of me and of the future, it makes me want to dance around the room with some bears and hope it all goes away.

Sponsored by that merry prankster, William Faulkner

Published June 13, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I bet no one ever called him Billy.

I’m only wondering that aloud (or a-type) because I just finished the first of six stories I am ghosting for pay and one of the character’s is named Billy.

I’m starting to realize that “Freelance Writer” actually means “the Universe’s Bitch.”   ( I know, first world problem,”Oh, my life sucks because someone will actually pay me to write stuff.)  Anyway, the stuff I’m writing right now is not in my genre, but someone is paying me to do it, so there you have it.

I am in no way blaming my headache on William Faulkner. I actually enjoy Faulkner, which is kind of like saying I enjoy drinking terrible bourbon and lounging around in the hot humid summer.  (I do like bourbon, but not terrible, so I don’t see the resemblance.

Today has been fairly productive. I did finish the story that was plaguing me, so now I only have five more to pull out of magic story land.  I decided to use some of my downtime to deepen my pool of knowledge, and not play Candy Crush until my tablet runs completely down, so I decided to check out one of the how stuff works Youtube channels.  Now my mind is officially blown.

There is so much information out in the interwebs and on the Youtube it made my head hurt. The five clips on time travel actually warped my mind. (I think the time weasels got stuck and they are trying to use my sinus cavity to push off and get back to their weasely shenanigans. )

I may have to watch it again. The information flew by me so fast that I think I could hear my brain cells frantically trying to take notes. I think one of them even broke a pencil and freaked out because it couldn’t find a sharpener. (My brain is a very busy place with a limited office supply budget.)

Suffice it to say that there is so much information that is very sciencey. Everyone I know who could explain it to me would come up with at least ten reasons why they believe time travel is impossible creating the need for me to hold back the scream, ” Could you just explain the big words and let me draw my own conclusions?!!”

What I gleaned from it is if you say you believe in Time Travel and may have actually been a part of this phenomena, people will laugh, nod and then back slowly away.

I was following a tangent on a guy who says he is a time traveler from 2034 and is apparently still hanging around in the present. I didn’t get the exact name because I was about to implode from information overload (and other songs by the Ramones)  In my search I ran across this quote:

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”

-William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun

Touche’ , Billy, Touche’