Designated Doodler

Oblivious Spring break: Got my nails done, a keratin treatment for my hair, and my corneas sliced open so lasers could give me perfect vision. A solid week into class: Oh hey Miss …you look different. Are those new shoes? +++ Sweet "Thanks for stepping in and teaching our class this year. It was a terrible situation and you took a big challenge because I know our classes are pretty rough most days. I can honestly say we have all learned a lot more this semester than we did last semester! Thanks for teaching us!" +++ Hilarious *Student looks at class then looks at me*  "How many times a day do you consider hanging yourself with your scarf?" +++ Hilarious Male student: "Man…my stomach hurt so bad today in study hall, I couldn't take it!" *Grabs abdomen* "Is this what it feels like to have a period? Aw man…I couldn't handle it." *Dramatically tumbles to the floor* +++ No Bueno Discovers after clas...

Brace yourselves, it's time for the obligatory year-end blog post. But why should I bore you with tales of my life? Because it's fun for me, that's why! I learned a lot in 2014, and some of those lessons learned were tough. As if I didn't trust people enough to begin with, my coworker at my last job snooped around my desk, read documents on my desk and told me we were never friends. Despite having invited her over to my house, bringing her cupcakes and asking her if she wanted to take breaks with us. I'm such a monster right? But you know what? It's all good, I wish only good things for all of my former coworkers. Anyway, I left that job and advertising all together. I'm not sure if I'll return to advertising or not, but I have discovered a deep seeded love for teaching. I busted my hump over the summer - going to eight hour alternative teaching classes and passing four teaching tests. Two of them were only a week apart. I have a good job, and I...

I spoke your name into your mouth How did it taste? The vowels were sweet like sugar And round in shape Disrupted by consonants And the subsequent saltiness That each voiceless stop did make You licked at each letter And swallowed them down The salty sweet bitter Of a personal noun

I admit I was duped But you were the one that stooped So low that it was  Child's play to deliver the blow I probably should have known You were lying Your lips were moving Your mind devising A plan to look out for its own A crooked smile And warm brown eyes The perfect visage For a traitorous guise You weaved a tangled web And didn't expect me To catch you stupid and empty And decipher your twisted head In the end, doing what I do best Pulling one over  on you instead.

I am a hoarder of seconds On the border of boredom Learning life's long lessons Or maybe just ignoring them The carpet is reminiscent of oatmeal The walls are a green, yellow, beige, In the distance keystrokes clack, As someone talks, sniffles, turns a page The TV on the wall is so loud I can't focus on this poem It goes on and on about diabetes, In a loop, like a drone. Take me home. Let's go home. In the air hangs a yawning despair, Not even it wants to be here. It would rather be out there Past the portrait windows In the open air The longer I wait, The more I sedate Until I'm a fixture of the room Like the composite desk in the corner, The green plastic-armed chairs, Or the fake pink flowers, forever abloom.

I decided to accept this writing prompt and my love letter (well, poem really) will be to Frederick Leighton's "Flaming June," oil, c. 1895. Liquid gold Drips off every curve Every delicate fold Rest your heavy head My tired nymph Or are you a naiad? Classicism is safe here Sleep sweet dreams dear And in the depths of rest Have no fear The Oleander suggests death But there is only life here They don't take you seriously Perhaps they have yet to see There is more to you than the promotion of travel Or the vain strive for deep meaning Or delicate detail You are real  But just a dream You are more And yet remain  as simple as what is seen And in your simplicity Lies the making of complexity The brink of thought Just out of reach Trying to grasp some Scheme or theme That lies just past the mind As if a recollection Of a fleeting dream

Twenty-three I'm so glad to see that number next to my name In the hopes of a year that's not the same As the one that beat me up and ripped me down But now it's my time, this is my town Heavy is the head that wears the crown A hero isn't a hero without a cross to bear And I'm no hero but I'm halfway there

There once was a spider That got lit on fire Maybe not roasted But at least a little toasted Because it has 8 legs And is truly gross A person grabbed a lighter And had a spider roast It's far too furry And has too many eyes And it's revolting demeanor Led to its ultimate demise

From: http://www.healthcarecommunication.com/Main/Articles/8750.aspx