Things had not been going well for a long time. It seemed that time only exacerbated the issue instead of fixing it. Even when we dealt with the problems head on, we didn't seem to come to a compromise. He wanted more of this and I wanted more of that, but neither of us wanted to budge.
As I was clearing out a shelf on a bookcase, I came across a journal from six years before that discussed the same problem. It was a moment of clarity for me. One that helped me become brave and say the words that I'd been needing to say for years: It's time we go our separate ways.
Saying these words to him made me sad and angry. I'd put all my chips on this guy, and he failed to believe in the hope I had in him. In the hope that we could make it work and be those people that stay together forever because, despite his fear of marriage, I hung around. Eventually though, those words made me feel brave and liberated, like a true-life feminist.
Telling people about the break up resulted in heads cocked to the side and looks of pity because most people knew we'd been together for so long and imagined we'd be together forever. I'd always give them my best smile and tell them I was fine.
When he finally moved out, I stopped by to pick up the key from under the mat before going back to my sister's for the weekend. There were tears when I read the heartfelt note his mom had left, but then, much like Mrs. Mallard in a Story of an Hour, I took a deep breath and imagined the possibilities my life held again.
14.7.16
25.6.16
Fat
Hi, my name's Georgina, and I'm fat.
I've been fat my entire life. I came into this world weighing a whopping twelve pounds. I slimmed down once I started walking, but by the time I was in third grade, I was fat again. My clothes came from the husky section of Sears or Penny's.
I remember my godmother telling my mom that she should really do something about my weight. I remember my mom putting me on a diet, but it only lasted a few days.
I was signed up for kid's nutrition classes as a kid. I would even walk to them on my own. I remember hating PE, especially when I had to do sit ups because I couldn't even do one. There was that one time in sixth grade where that kid counted them anyway. When he told Coach I'd done 30, she didn't even question him. I still wonder why he did that.
I remember going to a doctor, when I was in 7th grade, who told me that if I kept going the way I was, I wouldn't be able to walk through the door when I turned 18. Then, as I was walking out, he and his fat wife were scarfing down a pizza. He was also fat.
After said visit, I took up biking. I would ride my bike against the wind and uphill in hopes of getting him to shut his mouth. I dreaded going to the doctor after that. In fact, I went to see him once more until I was able to convince my mom to take me back to the clinic where I took the nutrition classes.
Sometime in high school, I went to see a nutritionist. She taught me a lot about eating healthy and exercising. I kept up with the plan for her sake. That didn't last long.
After high school, I really got into fitness. At first, it was because I thought it would gain me male attention. Then, it became a kind of obsession. I started working out--walking and Tae Bo. Then, my mom convinced me to join a gym. The gym membership came with a few sessions with a trainer. I learned a little bit about weight lifting. My obsession grew. I stopped eating full meals, limiting my intake to a PB & J sandwich and an orange a day. I worked out five to six days a week. I had 1,200 calorie days and 800 calorie days which meant I couldn't move on from cardio until I burnt that number of calories.
During my gym days, I could bench 65 lbs, leg press 260 lbs, calf raise 300 lbs...I felt like a bad ass. I would run, stair climb, bike, row. I remember one day, one of the trainers came by while I was on the stair climber after some time on the treadmill and said, "Wow, you're really fit." I went five minutes longer that day.
And yet, the smallest I ever got to was 190 lbs, a size 16. That's still 50 lbs overweight according to the BMI chart.
I ended up getting sick--gallbladder. It screwed everything up. Also, I got a full time job which didn't allow me to work out as much. Then, I moved away for college which caused some weight gain. And when I started teaching, I got fat again.
Throughout all of this, I was never comfortable in my own skin. Even when I was my thinnest, I would pull and prod at my belly thinking if only I could lose x more pounds. Why? Because I was so trained to think that fat=bad.
Now, I'm 36. I'm 5'8" and I weight 278 lbs. And you know what? I don't care. As long as my doc is good with my lab work, I don't fret about the number on the scale.
These days, I eat better because it makes me feel good. I exercise because I like feeling agile. I wear clothes that I think look good on me and make me feel confident. So, if someone doesn't like my fat body, they can look elsewhere.
I've been fat my entire life. I came into this world weighing a whopping twelve pounds. I slimmed down once I started walking, but by the time I was in third grade, I was fat again. My clothes came from the husky section of Sears or Penny's.
I remember my godmother telling my mom that she should really do something about my weight. I remember my mom putting me on a diet, but it only lasted a few days.
I was signed up for kid's nutrition classes as a kid. I would even walk to them on my own. I remember hating PE, especially when I had to do sit ups because I couldn't even do one. There was that one time in sixth grade where that kid counted them anyway. When he told Coach I'd done 30, she didn't even question him. I still wonder why he did that.
I remember going to a doctor, when I was in 7th grade, who told me that if I kept going the way I was, I wouldn't be able to walk through the door when I turned 18. Then, as I was walking out, he and his fat wife were scarfing down a pizza. He was also fat.
After said visit, I took up biking. I would ride my bike against the wind and uphill in hopes of getting him to shut his mouth. I dreaded going to the doctor after that. In fact, I went to see him once more until I was able to convince my mom to take me back to the clinic where I took the nutrition classes.
Sometime in high school, I went to see a nutritionist. She taught me a lot about eating healthy and exercising. I kept up with the plan for her sake. That didn't last long.
After high school, I really got into fitness. At first, it was because I thought it would gain me male attention. Then, it became a kind of obsession. I started working out--walking and Tae Bo. Then, my mom convinced me to join a gym. The gym membership came with a few sessions with a trainer. I learned a little bit about weight lifting. My obsession grew. I stopped eating full meals, limiting my intake to a PB & J sandwich and an orange a day. I worked out five to six days a week. I had 1,200 calorie days and 800 calorie days which meant I couldn't move on from cardio until I burnt that number of calories.
During my gym days, I could bench 65 lbs, leg press 260 lbs, calf raise 300 lbs...I felt like a bad ass. I would run, stair climb, bike, row. I remember one day, one of the trainers came by while I was on the stair climber after some time on the treadmill and said, "Wow, you're really fit." I went five minutes longer that day.
And yet, the smallest I ever got to was 190 lbs, a size 16. That's still 50 lbs overweight according to the BMI chart.
I ended up getting sick--gallbladder. It screwed everything up. Also, I got a full time job which didn't allow me to work out as much. Then, I moved away for college which caused some weight gain. And when I started teaching, I got fat again.
Throughout all of this, I was never comfortable in my own skin. Even when I was my thinnest, I would pull and prod at my belly thinking if only I could lose x more pounds. Why? Because I was so trained to think that fat=bad.
Now, I'm 36. I'm 5'8" and I weight 278 lbs. And you know what? I don't care. As long as my doc is good with my lab work, I don't fret about the number on the scale.
These days, I eat better because it makes me feel good. I exercise because I like feeling agile. I wear clothes that I think look good on me and make me feel confident. So, if someone doesn't like my fat body, they can look elsewhere.
3.6.16
Year Eleven: The Year of the Marigold
Today marks
the end of my eleventh year teaching. If you had told me during my first year
that I would still be teaching after eleven years, I don’t know that I would
have believed you.
23.1.16
16.1.16
The Trendsetter
The end of 6th grade saw the demise of what had
been normal life for me. By the time the start of 7th grade rolled
around, I had a dad who didn’t drink and took my mom and I out to dinner a few
time a week, a sister in college, a brother in the army, and another brother
with a stable, well-paying job. It was weird. I, instead of being happy about
this, hit a funk. In fact, had I talked about this with a medical professional,
they may have diagnosed me with depression.
6.12.14
The Musicians
In middle school, I signed up for band. I guess it must have been in sixth grade. I was inspired by the intro to The Simpsons when Lisa improvises a solo and is promptly asked to leave the room. I wanted more than anything to play the saxophone. I've always had an affinity for smart girls who do things out of the ordinary and have always tried to be such a girl. But thanks to the popularity of The Simpsons, I was assigned the trumpet.
19.10.14
Three Tales
I've spent the last 24 hours grading essays. Each time I read a particulary bad one, I have been inspired to write a better version with my own experiences. I don't know if I will use them in class. But I thought I would share here, for you Jennifer.
13.8.13
Tracie Tales
I fell off the wagon last week. Funny thing is, I already had this ready to go, but I just didn't get a chance to upload since I wasn't really around a computer. I will owe a second post this week.
The prompt was:
Find a person or moment in your previous writing and expand it.
If you were a fan Gabriel Iglesias from the beginning, you might know the name Felipe Esparza. He’s one of the guys with Iglesias in that story he tells about getting pulled over on their way to Vegas during the Hot and Fluffy Comedy Central special. Yeah, I’m a bit of a fan.
The prompt was:
Find a person or moment in your previous writing and expand it.
If you were a fan Gabriel Iglesias from the beginning, you might know the name Felipe Esparza. He’s one of the guys with Iglesias in that story he tells about getting pulled over on their way to Vegas during the Hot and Fluffy Comedy Central special. Yeah, I’m a bit of a fan.
Anyway, Felipe Esparza is the spitting image of Tracie.
Well, minus the facial hair. She also had this slur due to some dental issues
caused by a car accident she was in as a kid. She dressed like a straight up
Chola because well, she was one. She also wasn’t very nice.
31.7.13
Ransom Gone Wrong
This week’s prompt:
Tell a story that
begins with a ransom note.
My response after the jump.
24.7.13
To Eight-Year-Old Georgina...
Dear Eight-Year-Old Georgina,
Finding this note at the bottom of your yellow basket that
you bought from Mrs. Yeager at the start of the school year seemed like an odd
thing to you. At first, you looked around before opening it, hoping it was a
note from your best friend Lydia or that kid you have a crush on in class. When
you realized it was from your future self, you were weirded out a bit, but you’ve
always had the ability to believe in things that are not concrete. You even
played with the idea that you wrote it for fun and forgot about it, but the
handwriting and vocabulary should let you know that this is legit.
Bandwagon Plan
So, here's my plan:
Write as often as possible, but at least once a week.
Use my teaching prompts as blog prompts.
As a bonus, I'd love for anyone still reading this to play along. If you have a blog and would like, write to the prompt and link your blog post in the comments.
My first prompt is:
Imagine yourself at the age of eight. What would you tell yourself?
Write as often as possible, but at least once a week.
Use my teaching prompts as blog prompts.
As a bonus, I'd love for anyone still reading this to play along. If you have a blog and would like, write to the prompt and link your blog post in the comments.
My first prompt is:
Imagine yourself at the age of eight. What would you tell yourself?
Explained Absence
Due to a sad circumstance, I saw many people from the past today. One of the things that came up was this blog. "Are you still blogging? I haven't seen anything lately?"
"Yeah. Have you been writing?"
"Yeah. Have you been writing?"
13.3.13
Corridos
My new school is different. It’s on the opposite side of this “city.”
The students, although relatively the same age, are different. Their recall is much better thanks to different sleep habits and better nutrition at home. The air of entitlement bugs me though. My ethics bother some of them thinking that a phone call from home will make me back down, but I double cross every “t” and double dot every “I”.
The students, although relatively the same age, are different. Their recall is much better thanks to different sleep habits and better nutrition at home. The air of entitlement bugs me though. My ethics bother some of them thinking that a phone call from home will make me back down, but I double cross every “t” and double dot every “I”.
29.11.12
El Jabon
Growing up, my mom always bought the cheapest dish soap available. Back in those days, the cheap stuff was good. It wasn't watered down and it washed the dishes pretty good.
When I got my own place, I would go for smell. Then, I got all into "green" products. Recently though, I received an Influenster box with three bottles of Palmolive Fresh Infusions. Three bottles is way too much since between Daniel and I, we don't really have that many dishes to wash.
Anyway, I took a bottle to my sister's during Thanksgiving break and we were all in love with the smell. Plus, it foamed up and washed the dishes pretty well. It's readily available at my usual Target and Wal-Mart.
When I got my own place, I would go for smell. Then, I got all into "green" products. Recently though, I received an Influenster box with three bottles of Palmolive Fresh Infusions. Three bottles is way too much since between Daniel and I, we don't really have that many dishes to wash.
Anyway, I took a bottle to my sister's during Thanksgiving break and we were all in love with the smell. Plus, it foamed up and washed the dishes pretty well. It's readily available at my usual Target and Wal-Mart.
18.7.12
Gone
I finally did it. I left the place I began my teaching career. I always heard that it would be a sad and difficult even, but it turns out, it wasn’t.
I’m not saying I didn’t contemplate the decision for a long, long time. It’s just that once I decided I was going to leave, I got a lot of support from a few good people, and it just made it all easier. I almost faltered when we were discussing plans for the upcoming year—getting hopeful, thinking of the possibilities. But then, those few good people reminded me it was time for me to go and grow.
It was quite daunting, too. The first task was re-creating a resume which took me a few weeks until my friend held me hostage at Starbucks awaiting a completed copy. Then, there was the intense application process which I started one Friday afternoon after a long and intense week. Then, it was talking to my former principal who seemed to always have someone in her office when I got up the nerve. Then, there was the task of packing up the classroom I’d made my home for the last few years, but a student got me started on this task one afternoon by insisting she stay afterschool to help. Then, there was the interview process which seemed totally derailed by my unprecedented extended stay in El Paso earlier this summer, but somehow it all worked out. And, I was offered a position without ever having a face-to-face interview.
I know this is sort of cheesy, but this entire process has reaffirmed my faith. Since last summer, I prayed. I asked for things to work out for the best, and if I was meant to leave, let things work out in my favor. So perhaps, this is why it wasn’t so sad or difficult.
I’m excited about my new school. The student population is more diverse, and they will be taking on the 1:1 computer initiative which means, I will have a computer but the students won’t until the following year. It’ll be cool starting this whole process over again because I can try things differently, and I can assist with the roll out by sharing what worked and what didn’t. I’ll have new colleagues. But best of all, I am teaching English which for us is Writing. I will miss exploring literature, but I know that the “book whisperer” in me will never leave. I will always have book suggestions for students.
I’m glad to have gone through this process because had I not; I would continue to take compliments at face value. I am a good teacher, and I have done a lot in my short time in education, and I have a lot to offer students.
I am, for the first time in a while, super excited about the upcoming year.
I’m not saying I didn’t contemplate the decision for a long, long time. It’s just that once I decided I was going to leave, I got a lot of support from a few good people, and it just made it all easier. I almost faltered when we were discussing plans for the upcoming year—getting hopeful, thinking of the possibilities. But then, those few good people reminded me it was time for me to go and grow.
It was quite daunting, too. The first task was re-creating a resume which took me a few weeks until my friend held me hostage at Starbucks awaiting a completed copy. Then, there was the intense application process which I started one Friday afternoon after a long and intense week. Then, it was talking to my former principal who seemed to always have someone in her office when I got up the nerve. Then, there was the task of packing up the classroom I’d made my home for the last few years, but a student got me started on this task one afternoon by insisting she stay afterschool to help. Then, there was the interview process which seemed totally derailed by my unprecedented extended stay in El Paso earlier this summer, but somehow it all worked out. And, I was offered a position without ever having a face-to-face interview.
I know this is sort of cheesy, but this entire process has reaffirmed my faith. Since last summer, I prayed. I asked for things to work out for the best, and if I was meant to leave, let things work out in my favor. So perhaps, this is why it wasn’t so sad or difficult.
I’m excited about my new school. The student population is more diverse, and they will be taking on the 1:1 computer initiative which means, I will have a computer but the students won’t until the following year. It’ll be cool starting this whole process over again because I can try things differently, and I can assist with the roll out by sharing what worked and what didn’t. I’ll have new colleagues. But best of all, I am teaching English which for us is Writing. I will miss exploring literature, but I know that the “book whisperer” in me will never leave. I will always have book suggestions for students.
I’m glad to have gone through this process because had I not; I would continue to take compliments at face value. I am a good teacher, and I have done a lot in my short time in education, and I have a lot to offer students.
I am, for the first time in a while, super excited about the upcoming year.
2.10.11
17.9.11
9.7.11
The Power of Literature
With the end of the Potter series looming at the end of the week, and the Twilight series final movie installments just around the turn of the calendar, some people are saying good-bye to their childhood literature comforts.
It’s moments like this that I like to step back and people watch. And I can’t help get emotional. Not because I’m sad that it’s the end of the series, but because of the immense power literature holds over people.
As a lover of words and stories, I have always found comfort in stories, poetry, and my own words. For so long, I felt like I was the only one who felt this need to live between the pages of Superfudge, wishing Ivon Villa from Desert Blood:The Juarez Murders really existed so I could call her up and chat, wondering what people said about the Buendias in Macondo, creating my own world in which I was whoever I wanted to be at the moments. But as I’ve taken my wonky path through life, I’ve found other people like me.
It’s incredible how the simple act of opening a book can change a person forever. And that, is not only why I love reading and writing, but also why I don’t ever want to stop teaching.
It’s moments like this that I like to step back and people watch. And I can’t help get emotional. Not because I’m sad that it’s the end of the series, but because of the immense power literature holds over people.
As a lover of words and stories, I have always found comfort in stories, poetry, and my own words. For so long, I felt like I was the only one who felt this need to live between the pages of Superfudge, wishing Ivon Villa from Desert Blood:The Juarez Murders really existed so I could call her up and chat, wondering what people said about the Buendias in Macondo, creating my own world in which I was whoever I wanted to be at the moments. But as I’ve taken my wonky path through life, I’ve found other people like me.
It’s incredible how the simple act of opening a book can change a person forever. And that, is not only why I love reading and writing, but also why I don’t ever want to stop teaching.
29.12.10
19.12.10
Chasing Brooklyn
I just finished reading Chasing Brooklyn by Lisa Schroeder, and I’m emotionally spent. It was such an incredibly sad story. One of the most touching poems is the following:
#289
Dear Lucca,
I miss you.
I miss your beautiful blue eyes and the love I saw in
them for me.
I miss your hand that held mine.
I miss your arms around me.
I miss your lips on mine
I miss your laughter.
I miss the way you called me Brooker the Looker
I miss your voice and the sweet everythings you
whispered in my ear.
I miss the drawings you showed me before anyone else.
I miss our midnight conversations for no other reason
than to say, “I love you.”
I miss how I felt safe when I was with you.
I miss you, Lucca.
For my whole life, I will miss you.
Love always,
Brooklyn
Although the resolution seems to come too easily, this book is so powerful. It tells a tale of lost love, and yet, it offers so much hope.
Brooklyn and Nico are complex characters depicted through the simplistic language of Lisa Schroeder. It was hard to put this book down. I'm so glad one of my students recommended it for me.
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