To say that I bottle up my emotions is equivalent to saying that Trump may have a light dusting of cheeto on his face. It all comes to the surface in one random moment and then I’m suddenly crying because my $30 face wash didn’t work miracles overnight and I still have the blackheads that I’ve had since I was 12 years old.
I distinctly remember that moment and age because someone asked me what I had on my nose. A pore-less classmate. I didn’t know. Nobody really knew yet- fast forward 16 years and most people have now had them and gotten rid of them. Not moi!
I also recently cried about not being able to move and having braces. As if those were new revelations. I didn’t actually cry about the election, but I did cry when I read some of my students tweeting about it. (Shout out English dept). I’ll paraphrase…
“I’m worried that my mom will be deported” …. “Will my family be separated” … “I was angry, and then I was scared. Scared is worse.”
But after all this time of knowing myself, the tears will likely come on a day that I am running late to work and realize that I have to get gas.
Wednesday was a really weird day at school (to say the least) and I have never heard so much silence in my classrooms- even when I beg for it. So I turned off the lights put on “depresso music” which then for everyone’s sake I decided to change to golden oldies. By 8th period the depresso had dissipated and we went with banda/ Justin Bieber (for all of 2 minutes).
The feeling of what is to come turns me into a ball of numb more than anything. I watched a lot of episodes of Parks and Rec and that was awesome because I cracked up and felt better. Ron Swanson is hilarious.
The usual morning ritual of reading the news isn’t really appealing right now, so I put on a black turtleneck and thought of my favorite poet. The person with the most understanding and ability to encapsulate sadness and beauty that I know of; Federico Garcia Lorca. Thank you Iowa Spanish department. Thank you Spain.
And Pablo Neruda…
I also had a nice juicy free morning that I used to go to a consult about a dental implant. This guy (periodontist?) was like an instagram vision of hot dude hipster professionals. Nice hair, bearded to perfection, kind of broken nose, probably from wrestling a bear in the woods. I was like WTF?! I thought you were Christine, a nice, ideally elderly woman that I would have had no issue with telling me that I have a surprise pocket of 3 wisdom teeth (yes, I’ve had them pulled before), and looking at me in my most vulnerable state in harsh horrific lighting.
This person is not allowed to work in the medical field.
Anyways, I have to wait to get my braces off to get the implant done, and one of the reasons is that I can’t currently open my mouth wide enough to fit the drill inside. #IDIED #BRIGHTRED.
But look, from a distance we would make a great pair. #lookingoffintothedistance #inthesamedirection
Still not winning with the before and after photos, since I feel like my hair and overall look is way better “before” but clearly my teeth are like WAY better after. And one final snaggle just to get you through the tough times…
I’ll post more pics as soon as I get a makeover…so probably 2017.
Ps- This is spot on!