I had the opportunity to administer the TAKS test to a group of eighth graders today. If you are not familiar with TAKS, it stands for Texas Assentials of Knowledge and Skills and it's a standardized test used in Texas primary and secondary schools to assess students' attainment of reading, writing, math, science, and social studies skills required under Texas education standards.
Translation: A mind boggling, sleep inducing, sweat producing, stress levels through the roof exam. This does not apply to only students but to our teachers as well.
I checked in with our counselor (who, may I add, is absolutely wonderful), signed my life away and walked away with a box full of secured testing materials, seven pencils, seven highlighters and a florescent orange sign that said " Testing in Progress". It felt as if I was holding a porclean artifact with steep valuables inside. We were encouraged not to leave it unattended and hold tight if transitions should occur. I was so excited to administer such an imparative assessement. Our students have endured many tutoring sessions both in the morning and afterschool. This includes our Science and Math bootcamp on Fridays. So, I was completely looking forward to seeing excited faces. Excited meaning they know how much sweat blood and tears towards passing this exam was shed and a feeling of relief that it is over. Well, till next year.
I walked into the room where the testing was to occur, totally pumped and ready to distribute the test booklets. Instead of seeing happy faces, I see slumped over bodies, heads on the table and sweaters zipped all the way to their necks. Once the door closes, there is no talking and no communicating unless you are reading the directions. I wanted to hug each of them and wish them good luck. By the looks of things, these kids were anxious, bushed and barely motivated. Maybe it's because it was early. Maybe they didn't eat a good breakfast. Maybe their.... scared. I gave them a thumbs up and a big smile as I distributed the booklets and answer sheets. Maybe that would help. Maybe not.
Here's how TAKS works: Teachers are to teach according to a strict curriculum in order to prepare our students for TAKS. April arrives and it's the most stressful, sleepless month for those teachers and students. If a student does not pass TAKS, it is possible that he/she will be retained and scores may drop. This will not look good for teachers who teache TAKS grades. So, I can understand how they were feeling this morning. Or can I? I mean, who wants to work so hard, fail the test and have to repeat the grade? What's worse? repeating the same grade? Or facing embarrassment from peers for having to do so? The more I thought about it, the more I really felt for these students. Whats making our students more sleepy on test days? Lack of a good bedtime? Or stress?
I spent seven hours observing the emotions of the students. Some wanted to just sleep, as if it would make the test disappear. Some wanted numerous breaks. I let them have breaks. I didn't want them stressing each hour of this crazy day. Lunch seemed to be the only time they became themselves again. They all bunched up at the lunch tables with their chicken patties and fruit punch juices and didn't mention a WORD about the test. Why would they? That twenty five minutes was their escape. Each student who completed their test closed their booklets as if they never wanted it in their sight again. Tossing their pencils across the other side of the table as if it had betrayed them. Erasers were gone and the lead was dull. Highlighter marker lids on the floor. Lots of stretching and yawning. Lots. I couldn't tell what was worse, my feet in agony from the constant active monitoring or my students having to wait two months for their scores.
I have faith in my fellow, beautiful colleagues who use their passion wisely to teach these students. TAKS will not, should not, could not scare us. There should never be fear in learning. Oh TAKS, you come and go each year with a vengance, yet, we will defeat you.
No eating while testing... but what about cupcakes??
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Eat My Cupcake
Yeah, thats correct. Eat My Cupcake. I will forever be thankful for the gift to teach, to love and to inspire. I do love being a teacher and I will forever and always love each of my children. I do want to be the teacher in their lives who they can look back on and remember everything about me. I believe I will always teach in some way, inspire in someway and one day, hopefully change a life. Or have I already? But you guys know me. You've been trying to tell me for years.....
So here's what I dream of doing one day....
My masters program begins in August. I will withdraw from the program and enroll in culinary school specializing in pastry and cake decorations. Then I will work as an intern at a bakery and master the art of sweets and delishiousness for one year. Maybe less because I will be so good at what I do because of this passion that it won't take me a year to master the goodness of baking.
Here's what tops the cake..
Open up my own cupcake business and call it, yup you guessed it.......
Eat My Cupcake.
I have found myself completely frenzied with thoughts of this passion I have with cupcakes. Cupcakes are sweet. Love is sweet. When you put the two together, you get a damn good concoction of yumminess. When you add a cup of passion and a half of cup of ardor, you get success. Sift alittle happiness in there and you have yourself a supersonic Megan made cupcake. I will name each cupcake after someone I love, with a little cute twist on it. For example, my grandmothers name was Sandy, so I could do a yellow lemon cupcake with a vanilla-lemon sugar frosting and call it Sandy's Sunshine. Or perhaps my first love- who's nickname is Casper. So I can make a white cupcake with a homemade pina colada sugar frosting and call it Caspers Delights lol. I have time to think of distinctive names for my cupcakes.
I will have Open Poetry nights and Build Your Own Cupcake nights. I will enourage your first date to be inside Eat My Cupcake getting to know each other over sweet luxury. I will do events and weddings and baby showers OH MY!!! I will have those little rubber wrist bands that say "Eat Sweetly" Or maybe "Eat for Life". Well, then people might think I'm encouraging obesity. Right?
I will make pretty pink cupcakes for when Race for the Cure comes to town. Teachers will get discounts on cupcakes, cakes and all yumminess. Because without teachers, our futures aren't so sweet. Teaching will not end in the classroom. I will offer cooking classes for people who love to play with their food. I will teach my bakers that the best part of a cupcake is the sprinkles- because color illuminates love and people love cupcakes.
I will be responsible for frosting on the tip of your noses and spoiling your dinner. I will study your hungry faces as you stare into the cupcake window debating if you want chocolate .... or triple dutch chocolate. I will giggle when you ask for fat free frosting, even though I will offer it. This makes me happy.
One thing I look forward to......
Is coming home, to you, with flour on my face and smelling like cake batter
So here's what I dream of doing one day....
My masters program begins in August. I will withdraw from the program and enroll in culinary school specializing in pastry and cake decorations. Then I will work as an intern at a bakery and master the art of sweets and delishiousness for one year. Maybe less because I will be so good at what I do because of this passion that it won't take me a year to master the goodness of baking.
Here's what tops the cake..
Open up my own cupcake business and call it, yup you guessed it.......
Eat My Cupcake.
I have found myself completely frenzied with thoughts of this passion I have with cupcakes. Cupcakes are sweet. Love is sweet. When you put the two together, you get a damn good concoction of yumminess. When you add a cup of passion and a half of cup of ardor, you get success. Sift alittle happiness in there and you have yourself a supersonic Megan made cupcake. I will name each cupcake after someone I love, with a little cute twist on it. For example, my grandmothers name was Sandy, so I could do a yellow lemon cupcake with a vanilla-lemon sugar frosting and call it Sandy's Sunshine. Or perhaps my first love- who's nickname is Casper. So I can make a white cupcake with a homemade pina colada sugar frosting and call it Caspers Delights lol. I have time to think of distinctive names for my cupcakes.
I will have Open Poetry nights and Build Your Own Cupcake nights. I will enourage your first date to be inside Eat My Cupcake getting to know each other over sweet luxury. I will do events and weddings and baby showers OH MY!!! I will have those little rubber wrist bands that say "Eat Sweetly" Or maybe "Eat for Life". Well, then people might think I'm encouraging obesity. Right?
I will make pretty pink cupcakes for when Race for the Cure comes to town. Teachers will get discounts on cupcakes, cakes and all yumminess. Because without teachers, our futures aren't so sweet. Teaching will not end in the classroom. I will offer cooking classes for people who love to play with their food. I will teach my bakers that the best part of a cupcake is the sprinkles- because color illuminates love and people love cupcakes.
I will be responsible for frosting on the tip of your noses and spoiling your dinner. I will study your hungry faces as you stare into the cupcake window debating if you want chocolate .... or triple dutch chocolate. I will giggle when you ask for fat free frosting, even though I will offer it. This makes me happy.
One thing I look forward to......
Is coming home, to you, with flour on my face and smelling like cake batter
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Four Minutes to Find Mom
I only enjoy driving into the arrival terminal when my mother comes to down. I find myself stuck in the middle lane as a traffic jam encases me. I roll my window down to hear the hustle and bustle of laughter, police whistles and car horns. Suitcases of all shapes and colors sit tolerently on the curb as their owners await their rides. What's in those suitcases? Clothes? Souvenirss? Perhaps nothing except one ticket to a new beginning. A woman flicks her cigarette as she impatiently awaits a cab. Four luggage bags by her side. Taking a much needed vacation maybe? That's alot of luggage. I hope heartache isn't along for the ride.
Strangers put forth their necks and glare into the sunlight in hopes that the next car to turn the corner will be someone they love. Children release the hands of their mothers and hurdle themselves into their dads arms- with one bag, dressed in camoflauge... coming home. I can hear the skycabs shouting "Four minutes, you have four minutes to drive through the terminal. If you do not see your loved one, please circle around". Travelers wave frantically making sure they aren't missed. Some are. They drop their waving arms in disappointment and wait for them to come back around. Do any of them not come back around?
I don't have much time left before I have to circle around this place again. A skycab approaches my truck and asks me how many people will I picking up. I said "just one". He said " do you see them?"
I said...
No, but I look like her. I have her laugh and I have her smile-except her smile is like that one star that illuminates the heavens. The one that everyone wishes upon. My hair curls slightly like hers and we both have freckles. Sometimes I sound like her, walk like her and write like her. I write my O's and my N's like her. She is left handed but is always right- so she jokes. She stains her lips a dark red and wears a gold ring on her pinky finger. He said " I'm sorry but I can't help you".
I said, she is something beautiful.... and I see her, with her little red suitcase. Waving with her hands that look like her mothers and a smile that looks like mine. He said, " ah, now I see"
She makes cupcakes in ice cream cones. :)
Strangers put forth their necks and glare into the sunlight in hopes that the next car to turn the corner will be someone they love. Children release the hands of their mothers and hurdle themselves into their dads arms- with one bag, dressed in camoflauge... coming home. I can hear the skycabs shouting "Four minutes, you have four minutes to drive through the terminal. If you do not see your loved one, please circle around". Travelers wave frantically making sure they aren't missed. Some are. They drop their waving arms in disappointment and wait for them to come back around. Do any of them not come back around?
I don't have much time left before I have to circle around this place again. A skycab approaches my truck and asks me how many people will I picking up. I said "just one". He said " do you see them?"
I said...
No, but I look like her. I have her laugh and I have her smile-except her smile is like that one star that illuminates the heavens. The one that everyone wishes upon. My hair curls slightly like hers and we both have freckles. Sometimes I sound like her, walk like her and write like her. I write my O's and my N's like her. She is left handed but is always right- so she jokes. She stains her lips a dark red and wears a gold ring on her pinky finger. He said " I'm sorry but I can't help you".
I said, she is something beautiful.... and I see her, with her little red suitcase. Waving with her hands that look like her mothers and a smile that looks like mine. He said, " ah, now I see"
She makes cupcakes in ice cream cones. :)
Friday, April 1, 2011
One Train With You
It was a Tuesday morning when I was waiting at the station. I was adjusting my pearls when i saw you getting off the train. You didn't have a ticket so you had to bum through the barriers again. I laughed. You brushed the hair from my face. The ticket inspector saw you rushing through to tell me" you don't know how much I missed you but we'd better run cause I haven't got the funds to pay this fine. I said.. fine.
So we ran out of the station and jumped onto a bus with two of yesterdays travel cards and two bottles of bud and you said "you look well nice".
See I was wearing your favorite skirt, you know, the one that brushes the tips of the green grass covered in morning dew. On a Saturday. And you thought that I looked nice. Then I whispered in your ear that I didn't really care about anything else cause I only wanted you to think that I looked nice.
And you did. But you were looking at me, all funny in the eye. I said "come on, tell me what you're thinking and you said "I'll try". I watched your lips as you said "all the stars up in the sky and the leaves in the trees, all the broken bits that make you jump up and grassy bits in between. All the matter in the world is how much I like you."
I laughed and said "what?" You said "let me try and explain again"
You covered your mouth and coughed and then said "birds can fly so high and they can shit on your head and they can almost fly into your eye and make you feel so scared...but when you look at them and you see that they're beautiful. That's how I feel about you. I said "what are you talking about?" You said "you". I said "thanks, I like you too". You said "cool". My train arrived.... and ... you wrote a poem on my hand. I read it.. over and over again.
I daydream too much :)
So we ran out of the station and jumped onto a bus with two of yesterdays travel cards and two bottles of bud and you said "you look well nice".
See I was wearing your favorite skirt, you know, the one that brushes the tips of the green grass covered in morning dew. On a Saturday. And you thought that I looked nice. Then I whispered in your ear that I didn't really care about anything else cause I only wanted you to think that I looked nice.
And you did. But you were looking at me, all funny in the eye. I said "come on, tell me what you're thinking and you said "I'll try". I watched your lips as you said "all the stars up in the sky and the leaves in the trees, all the broken bits that make you jump up and grassy bits in between. All the matter in the world is how much I like you."
I laughed and said "what?" You said "let me try and explain again"
You covered your mouth and coughed and then said "birds can fly so high and they can shit on your head and they can almost fly into your eye and make you feel so scared...but when you look at them and you see that they're beautiful. That's how I feel about you. I said "what are you talking about?" You said "you". I said "thanks, I like you too". You said "cool". My train arrived.... and ... you wrote a poem on my hand. I read it.. over and over again.
I daydream too much :)
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Out of the Mouths of Babes III
They say the funniest things. My students. Whom I adore.
- Oh nooooo, it's the end of the worrrrrld!!! Oh well, guess I don't have to my homework.
- Can we watch Family Guy instead of having circle time?
- Um, I have a headache. Ms. T, can you push me down and yell " YOUR HEALED" like that sweaty guy on TV does?
- My fingers smell like fruitloops.
- :singing: I'm gonna catch little butterfly and... and.. :: evil voice:: PUT IT IN A BOX... and.. and.... pet it.
- Look, the clouds are crying again. Geeze, what a bunch of cry babies
- I didn't sleep good last night because you worked my brain too hard.
- But if I apologize, then I will look like the weak one. My dad says the first person who says sorry first has no balls.
- I snore because I'm black
- I lost two teeth last night. The toothfairy must be broke because she only left me fifty cents.
- Ms T, I can totally rhyme the word sit : hit, lit bit, fit, shit... oh shit I said shit. Shit. Am I in trouble?
- I totally just Chris Brown'd him in bingo
- I love you Ms T. Your like, butter to my biscuit, a really fluffy one from Cracker Barrel.
Kids and cupcakes- thats all you need :)
- Oh nooooo, it's the end of the worrrrrld!!! Oh well, guess I don't have to my homework.
- Can we watch Family Guy instead of having circle time?
- Um, I have a headache. Ms. T, can you push me down and yell " YOUR HEALED" like that sweaty guy on TV does?
- My fingers smell like fruitloops.
- :singing: I'm gonna catch little butterfly and... and.. :: evil voice:: PUT IT IN A BOX... and.. and.... pet it.
- Look, the clouds are crying again. Geeze, what a bunch of cry babies
- I didn't sleep good last night because you worked my brain too hard.
- But if I apologize, then I will look like the weak one. My dad says the first person who says sorry first has no balls.
- I snore because I'm black
- I lost two teeth last night. The toothfairy must be broke because she only left me fifty cents.
- Ms T, I can totally rhyme the word sit : hit, lit bit, fit, shit... oh shit I said shit. Shit. Am I in trouble?
- I totally just Chris Brown'd him in bingo
- I love you Ms T. Your like, butter to my biscuit, a really fluffy one from Cracker Barrel.
Kids and cupcakes- thats all you need :)
3 sugars, not 2
All I know is that you're so nice
You're the nicest thing I've seen
I wish that we could give it a go
See if we could be something
I wish I was your favourite girl
I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world
I wish I was your favourite smile
I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style
I wish you couldn't figure me out
But you'd always wanna know what I was about
I wish you'd hold my hand
When I was upset
I wish you'd never forget
The look on my face when we first met
I wish you had a favourite beauty spot
That you loved secretly
'Cause it was on a hidden bit
That nobody else could see
Basically, I wish that you loved me
I wish that you needed me
I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,
Actually I meant three
I wish that without me your heart would break
I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake
I wish that without me you couldn't eat
I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
And I wish that we could see if we could be something
Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something
You're the nicest thing I've seen
I wish that we could give it a go
See if we could be something
I wish I was your favourite girl
I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world
I wish I was your favourite smile
I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style
I wish you couldn't figure me out
But you'd always wanna know what I was about
I wish you'd hold my hand
When I was upset
I wish you'd never forget
The look on my face when we first met
I wish you had a favourite beauty spot
That you loved secretly
'Cause it was on a hidden bit
That nobody else could see
Basically, I wish that you loved me
I wish that you needed me
I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,
Actually I meant three
I wish that without me your heart would break
I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake
I wish that without me you couldn't eat
I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
And I wish that we could see if we could be something
Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Number Six
I have always wondered what it would be like to have a five minute date with twenty two random men in one night. I couldn't see how it was possible getting to know somebody in less than five minutes. I couln't see how it was possible to not fine one thing interesting in twenty two men.
My colleague begged me for weeks to register for a speed dating night here in Austin. Speed dating?? Like, how they do it in the movies? Don't they usually end up going terrible wrong? After two weeks of sending me constant reminders and pokes through our school e-mail, I finally caved and agreed to try it " just this once". I mean, how bad can it be?
I took some time to review the website. I had to pay 35 dollars to register and get my number. However, there was only one problem, registration for men was free. What? Isn't it usally the other way around? This instantly gave me a bad vibe about the whole " speed dating" thing. My friend was super excited and wouldn't stop talking about it. I, on the other hand, was 35 dollars short with nothing to wear.
The day approached me way to fast. All these days I was thinking horribly very bad no good thoughts about this event and I found myself.......nervous. Butterflies swarmed my tummy and I spent the majority of my lunch break pondering on this one very important question: flip flops.... or heels? I took my lean cuisine and decided to see how my colleague was feeling about this silliness that was about to occur. I enter her room to find her sitting in front of her computer, trying to back out. WHAT? Oh.. hell...no. She did not spend weeks persuading me into this mess and here she is trying to get her money back? So, it was my turn to persuade. Well, actually it was more like a threat. It worked.
I went home and stood in my closet for about ten minutes. My pup sat next to me as if she was going too. I was asking her what she thinks I should wear, as if she was going to answer me. Is this what dating does to you? Talking to a dog that probably won't respond. Oh, I use "probably" because I swear Loela understands me and will one day respond to me. Ha. I pull out some "skinny" jeans and a tank top. I imagined myself tumbling across the lounge in my high heels so I decide to wear my flip flops. Besides, what if I need to make a run for it?
I painted my face pretty and gave my chocolate brown locks a curl. The butterflies went from fluttering to strait up disco dancing. Loela rested on my bed and watched me get ready. I was wanting to feel content like her. Thirty five dollars? Goodness. This better be ONE hell of a speed date. I glossed my kisser with my notorious chicka cherry glistener. I took one look at myself and took a deep breath. This should be interesting! I put all my girly necessities in my clutch and made my way downstairs. Kissed Loela goodbye and told her to wish me luck. I think I might have heard her actually say it. Haha.
Driving to the lounge seemed long. I don't know how I could have went from not caring about this event to being extrememly nervous. I felt like I was going up to bat in the 8th inning with two strikes and twenty to single successful men were watching, with their score sheets and mini pencils. Sign in was at 8:00 sharp. I was able to talk this guy whose parking lot was full to squeeze my truck somewhere close so I didn't have to walk and get all winded and stuff. I mean, they don't call them skinny jeans for nothing. The longer I stay stuffed in them, the more I can't breathe. Hmm, note to self: no more skinny jeans if... I'm not skinny?
I walk in the lounge to find my friend sipping on a Jack and Coke. Noone had a name tag on so I didn't know if the guys sitting next to me was a speed dater. We sat and chatted for about thirty minutes until we were called to circle up and get our numbers. That's right, we weren't going to be known for our names, but for our numbers. Like prison? Ugh, here we go. I signed in with a bright red pen, signing my life away on the dotted line that said " we are not responsible for any accidents or tragedies that may occur if you choose to date your match" Wait... did they do a background check on these guys? I mean, they didn't have to pay. Ugh. Give me my number already.
I made sure that while everybody was sticking post-its with their numbers on it that I didn't take a second to look around. I didn't want to see who I was going to be dating. Perhaps I feared I wouldn't find anyone attractive and my whole "speed dating" experience would go to shit before it even began. We were told to find our tables with our numbers on it and sit down. It was like a herd of pretty cattle roaming around trying to find a place to graze. Candles illuminated the room and they had Adele singing in the background. I like Adele. I like candles. Don't smell the candle, Megan.. don't.. smell the candle.
I found my number waiting for me on this little square table in the corner of the lounge. It was the perfect little nook to be in during an event such as this. My back was not facing anybody and I had a clear view of everybody. At least I was going to have a good idea of who was about to come to my table. I ran my fingers through my hair and applied another dab of lip gloss. I really wanted to spritz my new perfume on but I didn't want to be sitting in a cloud of smell good.
The rules were simple. Men rotate and women stay seated. I mean come on, if they were free why should they stay seated? Lets make them work alittle here!! We had three to eight minutes to talk to each dater and when we heard the bell, the men would rotate to the next table. Easy enough. DING!!!!!! Wait, I wasn't ready.
The first dater approached my table and introduced himself as Rufis. Like, the dog in Aristocrats? No, I didn't say that aloud but I did find myself thinking that. Then I thought to myself, are we allowed to give fake names? Oh stop it Megan, maybe that was is real name. Have some confidence. I suddenly felt like I was in a job interview except this time I was interviewing for a chance to find "the one". I will be the one asking the questions tonight. We began talking about our interests and what we do for a living. He was an franchise attorney and loved the show How I Met Your Mother. Handome. I would like to get to .....DING.....
The next guy that approached my table was a dentist from Killeen. With teeth so white, they almost looked blue. Cute but not my type. DING.. The next few guys gave me some good conversation and a couple of laughs here and there. I even met a guy who lives in the same apartment complex as I do. Freaky. I didn't mention I lived there too. Just in case. Not to mention I did sign my life away and and kissed my rights away to get justice if I am hurt in any way possible. The night was going great. Even though I hadn't found any matches, I was really enjoying getting to know different people. I had a good glass of wine and five to eight minutes of good company from some interesting people. DING... DING........DING......
I sat there wondering if I was going to find a match any time soon. I sipped my wine and responding to my friends morse code that she was sending me with the clicks of her pen. One click : NO WAY, two clicks: A match. I had alot of one clicks. As I was recording their information on this little chart, I hear this deep voice telling me his name. A hand slips under my face as if he was trying to get my attention. It was so hairy and his nails were filthy. I shook his hand as gently as I could trying NOT to get whatever was on the palm of his hands onto mine. I looked up and to my horror sat a man who resembled the BTK killer. If you are not familiar with the BTK killer, please google now. He was a notorious murderer in the 1970's and after a 30 year break, came back to kill again in the early 2000's. He had the same glasses, the same eyes and the same facial features. OMG... he looks like the BTK killer. Don't stare. Concentrate. Ask him questions. Ask... ask. now. Stop staring.
I knew that he probably wasn't anything like the BTK killer. However, my woman radar went off like crazy. Maybe it's because I just saw a documentary on the BTK killer a week before the speed date. He went on to tell me that he works in a lumber yard and rides his motorcycle cross country as a habit. I know this man is not a match so, why did the lady let this round go on for eight minutes? Awkard silence overcame the table. The flame to my candle flickered as if it was laughing at me. "So...tell me about yours".... DINNNNG!!! Oh thank goodness.
"LAST ROUND.. THIS IS THE LAST..ROUND".
A part of me wanted to shout out for joy, yet, the other half was disappointed that out of twenty two men, I did not mark one single "yes" on my match sheet. I'm not that picky anymore. However, It was like one big melting pot, filled with testosterone and smell goods. Many glossy lips left not so glossy. A few people stayed after to see if they can catch any leftover prey before walking into the darkness of their single lives. When you have loved before, it is hard to find someone who can one up that person.
I will totally speed date again. It was interesting and it sure was fun seeing just how different alot of men really are.
When I was walking out of the lounge and saw all the empty tables and bartender blowing out all the candles that so beautifully lit up the faces of men searching for love, I thought of a part from this song that fit so perfectfully with this puzzle of love.
So long my luckless romance, my back is turned to you. Should have known you'd bring me heartbreak. Almost lovers always do.
How to make speed dating just a little more sweeter? Cupcakes :P
Picture courtesy of Google pics
My colleague begged me for weeks to register for a speed dating night here in Austin. Speed dating?? Like, how they do it in the movies? Don't they usually end up going terrible wrong? After two weeks of sending me constant reminders and pokes through our school e-mail, I finally caved and agreed to try it " just this once". I mean, how bad can it be?
I took some time to review the website. I had to pay 35 dollars to register and get my number. However, there was only one problem, registration for men was free. What? Isn't it usally the other way around? This instantly gave me a bad vibe about the whole " speed dating" thing. My friend was super excited and wouldn't stop talking about it. I, on the other hand, was 35 dollars short with nothing to wear.
The day approached me way to fast. All these days I was thinking horribly very bad no good thoughts about this event and I found myself.......nervous. Butterflies swarmed my tummy and I spent the majority of my lunch break pondering on this one very important question: flip flops.... or heels? I took my lean cuisine and decided to see how my colleague was feeling about this silliness that was about to occur. I enter her room to find her sitting in front of her computer, trying to back out. WHAT? Oh.. hell...no. She did not spend weeks persuading me into this mess and here she is trying to get her money back? So, it was my turn to persuade. Well, actually it was more like a threat. It worked.
I went home and stood in my closet for about ten minutes. My pup sat next to me as if she was going too. I was asking her what she thinks I should wear, as if she was going to answer me. Is this what dating does to you? Talking to a dog that probably won't respond. Oh, I use "probably" because I swear Loela understands me and will one day respond to me. Ha. I pull out some "skinny" jeans and a tank top. I imagined myself tumbling across the lounge in my high heels so I decide to wear my flip flops. Besides, what if I need to make a run for it?
I painted my face pretty and gave my chocolate brown locks a curl. The butterflies went from fluttering to strait up disco dancing. Loela rested on my bed and watched me get ready. I was wanting to feel content like her. Thirty five dollars? Goodness. This better be ONE hell of a speed date. I glossed my kisser with my notorious chicka cherry glistener. I took one look at myself and took a deep breath. This should be interesting! I put all my girly necessities in my clutch and made my way downstairs. Kissed Loela goodbye and told her to wish me luck. I think I might have heard her actually say it. Haha.
Driving to the lounge seemed long. I don't know how I could have went from not caring about this event to being extrememly nervous. I felt like I was going up to bat in the 8th inning with two strikes and twenty to single successful men were watching, with their score sheets and mini pencils. Sign in was at 8:00 sharp. I was able to talk this guy whose parking lot was full to squeeze my truck somewhere close so I didn't have to walk and get all winded and stuff. I mean, they don't call them skinny jeans for nothing. The longer I stay stuffed in them, the more I can't breathe. Hmm, note to self: no more skinny jeans if... I'm not skinny?
I walk in the lounge to find my friend sipping on a Jack and Coke. Noone had a name tag on so I didn't know if the guys sitting next to me was a speed dater. We sat and chatted for about thirty minutes until we were called to circle up and get our numbers. That's right, we weren't going to be known for our names, but for our numbers. Like prison? Ugh, here we go. I signed in with a bright red pen, signing my life away on the dotted line that said " we are not responsible for any accidents or tragedies that may occur if you choose to date your match" Wait... did they do a background check on these guys? I mean, they didn't have to pay. Ugh. Give me my number already.
I made sure that while everybody was sticking post-its with their numbers on it that I didn't take a second to look around. I didn't want to see who I was going to be dating. Perhaps I feared I wouldn't find anyone attractive and my whole "speed dating" experience would go to shit before it even began. We were told to find our tables with our numbers on it and sit down. It was like a herd of pretty cattle roaming around trying to find a place to graze. Candles illuminated the room and they had Adele singing in the background. I like Adele. I like candles. Don't smell the candle, Megan.. don't.. smell the candle.
I found my number waiting for me on this little square table in the corner of the lounge. It was the perfect little nook to be in during an event such as this. My back was not facing anybody and I had a clear view of everybody. At least I was going to have a good idea of who was about to come to my table. I ran my fingers through my hair and applied another dab of lip gloss. I really wanted to spritz my new perfume on but I didn't want to be sitting in a cloud of smell good.
The rules were simple. Men rotate and women stay seated. I mean come on, if they were free why should they stay seated? Lets make them work alittle here!! We had three to eight minutes to talk to each dater and when we heard the bell, the men would rotate to the next table. Easy enough. DING!!!!!! Wait, I wasn't ready.
The first dater approached my table and introduced himself as Rufis. Like, the dog in Aristocrats? No, I didn't say that aloud but I did find myself thinking that. Then I thought to myself, are we allowed to give fake names? Oh stop it Megan, maybe that was is real name. Have some confidence. I suddenly felt like I was in a job interview except this time I was interviewing for a chance to find "the one". I will be the one asking the questions tonight. We began talking about our interests and what we do for a living. He was an franchise attorney and loved the show How I Met Your Mother. Handome. I would like to get to .....DING.....
The next guy that approached my table was a dentist from Killeen. With teeth so white, they almost looked blue. Cute but not my type. DING.. The next few guys gave me some good conversation and a couple of laughs here and there. I even met a guy who lives in the same apartment complex as I do. Freaky. I didn't mention I lived there too. Just in case. Not to mention I did sign my life away and and kissed my rights away to get justice if I am hurt in any way possible. The night was going great. Even though I hadn't found any matches, I was really enjoying getting to know different people. I had a good glass of wine and five to eight minutes of good company from some interesting people. DING... DING........DING......
I sat there wondering if I was going to find a match any time soon. I sipped my wine and responding to my friends morse code that she was sending me with the clicks of her pen. One click : NO WAY, two clicks: A match. I had alot of one clicks. As I was recording their information on this little chart, I hear this deep voice telling me his name. A hand slips under my face as if he was trying to get my attention. It was so hairy and his nails were filthy. I shook his hand as gently as I could trying NOT to get whatever was on the palm of his hands onto mine. I looked up and to my horror sat a man who resembled the BTK killer. If you are not familiar with the BTK killer, please google now. He was a notorious murderer in the 1970's and after a 30 year break, came back to kill again in the early 2000's. He had the same glasses, the same eyes and the same facial features. OMG... he looks like the BTK killer. Don't stare. Concentrate. Ask him questions. Ask... ask. now. Stop staring.
I knew that he probably wasn't anything like the BTK killer. However, my woman radar went off like crazy. Maybe it's because I just saw a documentary on the BTK killer a week before the speed date. He went on to tell me that he works in a lumber yard and rides his motorcycle cross country as a habit. I know this man is not a match so, why did the lady let this round go on for eight minutes? Awkard silence overcame the table. The flame to my candle flickered as if it was laughing at me. "So...tell me about yours".... DINNNNG!!! Oh thank goodness.
"LAST ROUND.. THIS IS THE LAST..ROUND".
A part of me wanted to shout out for joy, yet, the other half was disappointed that out of twenty two men, I did not mark one single "yes" on my match sheet. I'm not that picky anymore. However, It was like one big melting pot, filled with testosterone and smell goods. Many glossy lips left not so glossy. A few people stayed after to see if they can catch any leftover prey before walking into the darkness of their single lives. When you have loved before, it is hard to find someone who can one up that person.
I will totally speed date again. It was interesting and it sure was fun seeing just how different alot of men really are.
When I was walking out of the lounge and saw all the empty tables and bartender blowing out all the candles that so beautifully lit up the faces of men searching for love, I thought of a part from this song that fit so perfectfully with this puzzle of love.
So long my luckless romance, my back is turned to you. Should have known you'd bring me heartbreak. Almost lovers always do.
How to make speed dating just a little more sweeter? Cupcakes :P
Picture courtesy of Google pics
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