Seeing Kids...Seeing Me

I've figured out what it means to be a teacher.
Being a teacher means being considerate of the feelings of others, even when yours have been trampled over. Being a teacher means caring about people who will move on and may or may not care about you. Being a teacher means feeling bad when you don't care about people - or feeling bad when you realize that you just yelled back at some kid who'd just been yelled at for being late to school because her father dropped her off late...and then got a DUI leaving the school parking lot. People like holding on to righteous anger. We like feeling like we are in the right for getting upset. And most of the time, being a teacher means either being filled with impotent righteous fury or realizing that your wrath is misplaced.

I figured all this out yesterday after having one of the worst days in the world.
Shaking with anger because some kid always had "something to say..." (as my grandmother would put it) I kicked him out of class and told him to get his act together. He eventually apologized, but not before hearing my voice crack as I expressed my...uh...great dissatisfaction with his performance. Of course, this was right after kicking out another student who was "helping me" by telling him to "shut the hell up". To quote the immortal Governor Palin, I had to say "Thanks, but no thanks..." to her help. By the end of class, it was all I could do to keep from bursting in to angry tears.

Realizing that my next class would be coming in, and that they had nothing to do with the fiasco the class period before, I slid my mask into place. And actually, it was a little scary...how easy it was to do that, I mean. Keeping my anger contained, to avoid hurting the feelings of some doe eyed child who happened to drop her pencil on the floor, I welcomed them into class, allowed them to drop off their things before heading to the cafeteria...and then I retreated to the teacher's lounge. I bought a soda, heated up my frozen lunch - numbly - and glanced up at myself in the mirror. My sweater was twisted to one side. My jeans were really as wrinkly as one of my students had commented ("Miss P," she'd said, "Imma need to know why yo' jeans is so wrinkly!" She was teasing me good naturedly, and I wasn't really in the mood for it. Again, wasn't her fault, but... "Why is your face so wrinkly?" I replied, without thinking. I can already hear the parent phone call....) The mask slid off. Big salt tears rolled down my cheeks. And looking at myself, looking so vulnerable, looking so weak for letting those kids get to me...I cried.

Being a teacher means wearing a mask...much like being a model or dating a man...
Maybe I am cut out for this job.

And now, to ponder the more important things in life....like, "just because a man looks like a rapist, does that mean he's not eligible for dating?" I mean, I wouldn't want to judge a DVD by it's Amray.

Chilly Nights

Maybe it's just be, but it seems to be getting chilly early this year. This is a problem, because I am cold natured, a little bit anemic, and I have no one to snuggle up next to. There was never a weekend in high school where I couldn't find some basketball player, football player, or soldier to be who didn't mind sharing a little warmth with me. Grown up life sucks! I have to go find men, they don't just wander up to me. In high school all I had to do was just show up and BAM! there they were.

And ya know what, I thought about using a euphemism, but I gotta say it. I need sex. Yes, it's only been a couple of months. I understand that I am too young to consider going without a "bad thing", but I'm an independent woman dammit! I want sex!

On a not unrelated note, I think I'm ovulating. You know what's weird? I actually prefer being on my period to ovulating. When I'm on my period I know what's going on. I can put a name on it, have some chocolate and go about my business. The weird little cramps that go with ovulating aren't nearly as tough, but Jesus, it feels like some kind of baking soda and vinegar volcano in my stomach. Well, just below my stomach. And the things that...nevermind, you know what, I just found out there is a limit to what I will write on my blog! Hmmm...fascinating.

I gotta find a date and quick, it doesn't have to be sex, but he does have to be warm. I'm not ab out to unpack all my winter clothes just for it to be eighty degrees tomorrow. Nuh-uh, not this year.

Kisses,

Paula

My Body and Me

I decided to take a note from Zuri and try a prompt.  UNFORTUNATELY, I don’t just have a book of prompts lying around like SOME PEOPLE, so I had to poke around the internet and find one that made me think “Hey, there’s something I can write about.”  Well, faithful readers, here it is:

Why do you love your body?

Now this one is tailor made for me..like most of my CLOTHES!  Am I right, people?  Sorry, like, it hit me and I just had to say it.  The reality is this, I love my ass.  I really do, let me tell ya why:

It’s like…this perfect upside down heart shape.  I’ve somehow managed to do just the right amount of working out to where my ass is firm but hasn’t started shrinking.  I know it sounds conceited, but I think it’s good to know what’s hot about you and love it.  When people don’t know their assets (LMAO) they wear stuff that doesn’t fit right and make hot bodies look like hot messes.  I don’t wanna go on and on about my ass, but I will anyway cause it’s fun.  I set up the mirrors in my room all funny just so I can see my ass more clearly when I’m getting dressed. 

The real secret to making your the most of a great ass is the right jeans.  Really, no joke, with all the amazing designer labels out there making great shoes and skirts the real key is jeans.  You have to find something that’s 1)  Cut for an ass, some pants are just made with legs and your ass gets lost in the folds.  When a great ass just makes you look fat, it’s not you, it’s the pants.  2)  Low cut is the key.  Now this is dangerous, not everyone can pull it off.  If you can, there is no excuse not to.  3)  Don’t settle!  Keep trying on jeans till you find the right pair.

You know what else I like?  My tits!  For real yall.  And my legs ain’t bad either.  You know what, I have a lot going for me.  I just want to say that.

Why the hell can’t guys see that?!  I mean, I’m a generally great girl and nice in person.  So, I went out with that guy I met at the coffee shop the other night.  Suffice to say, it didn’t go well.  Apparently, he can buy himself coffee in the morning, but can’t pay for a decent meal.  We went to a crap restaurant and lets say it turns out this guy is not only rude, but also dumb.  Alright, I’m not doing this.  Maybe more details later.

Kisses, Paula

I pick up my men where I pick up my coffee

Okay, so, dress rehearsal is in like an hour, so I have to hurry with typing this. I'm supposed to be coming home to change into my clothes for the show, but being a model I have a certain amount of skill when it comes to changing clothes with speed. I just had to take the opportunity to tell you about what happened to me this morning.

I made a stop off on the way to work to get some coffee. While I was standing in line this FINE man with a briefcase and a suit comes up and just starts talking to me about, ya know, stuff...small talk. Anyway, he says something funny that makes me smile. I give him one of my patented "Sweep the hair out of my face, head half turned, over the side of the shoulder smile" and I can see it hit him just right. He recognized me, but he couldn't remember where from (It was probably from the billboard across the street (that's why I go there for breakfast) but it could be something else.) So we talk a little more and he asked if I was doing anything this weekend. Of course I am, but I tell him I'm not (I can move things around). And he asks if I want to go out for dinner. Natch, I said yes. I'm so excited! I haven't had a date in like a month and even longer with someone I actually thought had any hope!

Alright, I'm gonna catch up on Zuri's blog real quick then I'm gone.

Kisses, Paula.

Wow

So, for anybody that doesn’t know, my long time friend and coworker/competitor Bisa Randall has finally started her own blog!  IF you haven’t seen it yet, you should totally check it out.  On her first post she made a ground breaking announcement—suffice to say, it makes me proud to know her.

Anyway, life has been super busy of late so hence the lack of updates.  We are in the process of getting Zuri moved into her new apartment.  Let me tell you, the place is super cute (or could be, in the right hands, which may or may not be my sister’s, that has yet to be determined).  Dad took a couple days off to help with the process and was even able to rent a truck from the army for free.  It pays to have a dad with connections from time to time.

I’m steadily learning to deal with my abandonment issues and I think I’m gonna be alright.  I’m already taking measurements of Zuri’s old room.  I had no idea how big her closet was!  And to think, that was going to waste on that mediocre wardrobe of hers all these years!  For shame!  LOL!

Anyway, life is pretty good right now, can’t really complain.  The uniforms for the chorus show are ready.  Mom and I designed them and they look great.  Calling them uniforms ain’t quite right, they’re more like totally hot dresses.  The show is next week and the dress rehearsal is later this week, so come back here to find out about the hotness.

I WILL choke a bitch

Ahem, I’m generally a very even tempered person.  As you no doubt know, I’m not the sort to start yankin out clumps of hair and hitting bitches with chairs.  So you must also know that I ain’t playin around or bein petty when I say I am about one minute of petty bullshit away from really, genuinely choking a bitch.

So, allow me to elaborate.  I spent the day on site for this shoot we’re doing to promote mom’s upcoming fashion show.  Shameless plug – it’s gonna rock all you bitches!  Anyway, I am set to be the headliner (naturally) and Mom managed to pull in some other really good talent to go with.  Well, along with the talent we also got Amani Randall.  That’s right, the youngest member of the oh so famous Randall family.  Younger sister to Bisa Randall (who I may have recently mentioned on this blog…I wonder it that has anything to do with this).  Anyway, as you no doubt know if you read my blog and naturally stay up with the world of fashion, being part of the renowned Randall family has pulled Amani headlong into superstardom, which she has decided to squander on modeling, something for which she has little natural talent.  Of course, that hasn’t stopped other designers from showcasing her.  For shame!

Of course, my mommy has more experience and more style than to do something like that, so Amani will be walking third in the lineup.  Now comes the drama.  You’re oh so lovely and oh so worthy hostess here now has to listen to this little prima donna run her mouth about how I only got this spot because I am the daughter of the designer.  ME!  OMFG!  Like I haven’t earned my spot!  I may only be two years older than her, but I have earned my stripes.

So I step off for a minute to with mom about the setup of the whole thing and would you believe that this girl has all the other models turned against me by the time I get back?  If she says one more thing to me, I don’t care, I will throw down.  She makes me so angry I swear I can feel my hair straightening!  And you know, after all this, I still haven’t seen no damn blog for Bisa Randall on here.  Quelle surprise!

Okay, I don’t apologize much, but maybe I really should in this case.  Zuri actually mentioned it to me and she’s usually pretty on spot as these things go, so here goes.  I shouldn’t have put anything on my blog about Bisa being gay, whether or not it’s true.  That has nothing to do with me and I should have more sense than that by now.  So, Bisa, I’m sorry and to anyone else who might read this, totally disregard what I said.  If Bisa is gay and if she does plan on telling anyone it should be her decision and not mine.

Anyway, I promise the next one will be lighter.  No really, I promise.

Kisses, Paula

So Deep

So, I was just reading Zuri’s blog and…how does she always seem so deep?  I mean, I’m deep too, right?  For sure!  Okay, I’m gonna try really hard to keep this post real sober and deep like.  Prepare to be amazed by a different face of Paula.

 

Ahem…ever since I was little I’ve never been close to my daddy.  I’ve always called him daddy and I do love him and I know he loves me, but we just don’t really connect.  He always wanted me to be tough and…I don’t know, more like him I guess.  He brought me into the dojo when I was just, maybe five or so.  I mean, I thought it would be cool and all, right?  I could learn to do cool gymnastics and stuff as part of fighting.  Plus, if I ever did get into a fight, I’d have the jump on the other girl for real.  The first time I got kicked in the face by another girl, I knew this wasn’t for me.  I tried to find reasons not to come back to the dojo whenever I got a chance, but my dad insisted.  He told me I didn’t have to be an expert, but his daughter would know how to defend herself in the world.

I think, if I’m remembering this right, that’s how I started going to work with mom more.  She agreed with dad about defending myself…but she couldn’t stand to see me come home with black eyes.  That is, more or less, how I became a model.  My dad still ain’t real happy about that, but as fate would have it (hol on man, I’m starting to sound like Zuri.  I need to shake this off…

Kay, this is the break in the middle here.  So I heard today that Bisa Randall is starting us one of these blogs.  The girl is always copying me on something, can’t she even come up with her own thing.  Oooh, I also heard that she’s into girls, did anyone else hear that?  Gross right?  Wait, she’s into girls and she’s always copying me…do you think?  JK, love you Bisa (if you ever see this, which I doubt).

Back to the story.  Yeah, so Zuri came to live with us when she was 10 and I was 8.  Ever since then, her and dad have been inseparable  Zuri reads the same books he loves, loves his old records, is interested in all the history he’s always trying to bore me with.  Oh, and LEST I FORGET, Zuri has competed in regional martial arts tournaments in Karate, Thai Quan Do, and Jeet Kun Do for like eight years.  She’s actually won a couple in Thai Quan Do and almost won one in Karate except this huge black chick with braids dislocated her shoulder.  Good times.

. 

For real, sometimes it feels like she lost her dad and stole mine.  I think that’s why I let her have it so much when we were kids, but you know, I grew out of that.  Okay, done being deep for awhile, that kinda sucked.  Like for real, I almost cried for a sec.  Make sure you tune in for my next post, cause I’m for sure gonna load it with gossip and shit talking as well as updates from the fabulous world of Paula Greene.  Until then, babies…

Kisses, Paula