Log In and Close Your Mouth

18 09 2007

I repeated this tag line 5 times today: “Log in and close your mouth.” My students are working in the computer lab, so this was my greeting to them as they walked in the door. It reminds me of a similar tag line developed by me and my BFF in college, which was, “State your name and go to hell.” Perhaps it was the note of genuine pessimism that caused these two synapses to connect for me, or perhaps it was the catchy-ness of it, or the utility of it. Both are rather sassy commands. I’m feeling today as I did on the day when LT and I composed, “State your name and go to hell.” There is a ticker (much like the stock line running across the bottom of the television screen on CNN) running along the back of my mind today. It reads, “I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” Well, not really. I think it’s more like, “I wanna go outside! I wanna go outside!”

Finally, the weather has become breezy and cool(ish), although my beloved New Englanders would deem me mad to call 57 degrees at 5:30 in the morning “cool” had they not been residents of Alabama for several (long) years. Here’s what the fall makes me miss– college days in the passenger seat of a white Tahoe, donning a long sleeved T-shirt and hanging my feet out the window on my way to Breezeway with my darling bosom friend at the wheel peeling out at every turn. That’s probably the only thing I really miss from college… but I do miss those afternoons terribly. Especially when I’m stuck inside all day in a computer lab with no windows.





2 responses

21 09 2007

I know that “I hate this” feeling (although, I usually add a four-letter synonym for manure to the end of it). Every time I am forced to deal with the inconvenient realities of teaching in a public school, I repeat that mantra in my head. Or rather, it springs into my head unbidden and I don’t try hard to banish it. I am almost finished with a post about the latest silliness I am slogging through.

Thank God it is Friday!

24 09 2007
Lauren Hinsman

Good stuff. I have a cell 256 504 3393. I’m never at home. We renovated the store. I speak/type only in simple, often fragmented sentences.

Except for that one.

I miss you. I loved your messages. I saved them.

I got a new cat. She is eco friendly.

I had easy mac tonight and poured a little tobasco on top. Made me think of you and ramen noodles and when we lived alone.

I loved that. I miss that, sometimes. Hell, I freakin’ miss the whole damn thing. What a soggy mess I am.

State your name…

and come to Maine.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: