The 30 Day Music Challenge: A Song That Makes Me Happy :-)

For the next installment of "The 30 Day Music Challenge", a song that makes me happy. Let me know in the comments if you're up to doing "The 30 Day Music Challenge" so I can be sure to check it out :-)

There are many songs that make me happy. Like a lot of people, music has been a huge part of my life ... in fact, the idea of creating a "life soundtrack" has more than once crossed my mind.

Of course, I guess that's why iTunes has playlists ;)

Anyway, here's one of the many songs that makes me happy ...

On Tattoos

It seems like everybody has a tattoo today, and the view of them as "tacky" or "low class" that people like my mother have has lessened. Sort of.

There's still a "tattoo taboo", though. The best example I can think of is when I was fooling around with a guy, we were at the point where his shirt was coming off, and he interrupted the festivities to say, "Just so you know, I have a full-sleeve".

I've thought a lot about that moment, actually, mostly because I was pretty shocked to hear that. He was not, after all, what I'd consider a full-sleeve kind of guy. And then, of course, the very idea that I'd divide people into "possible full-sleeves" or not bothers me quite a bit.

I have two tattoos.

I got the first one when I was eighteen, a small dolphin on my upper leg that can only be seen if I'm wearing a bathing suit (or ... you know, naked). I love that little dolphin, and I've never regretted that tattoo.

I grew up on the ocean, am happiest when in the water, and it was the first present I gave myself after Addie was born. It is meaningful, private, and not something I've ever been sorry about.

Second tattoo? Stupid drunken college-era error. And it's visible. Very visible. Sigh ...

The stupid sun tattoo, as I call it, is located on my lower right leg, just above the ankle bone. If I wear a skirt, dress, shorts, culottes, anything but full-length pants, there it is.

I hate that thing.

The thing is, I have no argument with tattoos that mean something. What I don't like are bandwagon tattoos (the so-called "tramp stamp" is a perfect example of that), where a lot of people have a similar-looking tattoo in a similar location.

My stupid sun tattoo is vintage bandwagon, and that bothers me. That it's the one that people see and comment on makes it even more frustrating.

I also appreciate the artistic value of tattoos. It's a skill I myself could never possess, and I think the different approaches and techniques are just amazing when done correctly.

So, yeah, I think tattoos should be meaningful and attractive and preferably not on a person's face. Otherwise, I have kind of a "live and let live" attitude about them.

There is one other thing.

Addie has requested as an early birthday gift/payment for bringing her sister to camp each morning that I take her to get a tattoo of the Deathly Hallows symbol. She wants it on her hipbone, where it would not be seen, and she wants me to get one, too.

Because she's under eighteen, I would have to take her, and I'm actually (I can't believe I'm saying this) considering it. The thing is, it would be meaningful (as she tearfully pointed out at 2:30 in the morning after leaving the final movie, "My childhood is over"), it would be private, and it would be attractive.

What are your thoughts on tattoos?

The 30 Day Music Challenge: My Least Favorite Song

Day Two of "The 30 Day Music Challenge" means that I have to share my least-favorite song. If you're interested in this challenge, by the way, let me know in the comments. I love hearing the different interpretations people have of music.

Okay, disclaimer here. Everyone in the world likes this song except for me. It comes on in restaurants, dentist offices, bars, the mall, everywhere! It is without question overplayed, but it has always irked me. What's really weird is that I like other songs by Sheryl Crow.

Anyway, my least favorite song is "Soak Up the Sun" by Sheryl Crow.

Stay tuned for tomorrow, when you get to find out what song makes me happy (and, no, it's not "If It Makes You Happy" ;-))

Sunday Stealing: The Honesty Meme

Ah, another installment of Sunday Stealing. Join in if you don't ... it's ridiculously fun :-)

Complete the Sentences:

Right now I'm feeling...hot. I hate summer. Grrrrrrrrrrrr :-(

When I'm alone I feel...happy. I get along with myself pretty well.

When I'm surrounded by people I feel...various ways, depending on how many people, where I am, what sort of mood I'm in, and so forth.

One thing I hate is...feet. Like, I suck up the cost of pedicures because I can't even stand touching my own feet. Also on the list--snakes, thunderstorms, and airplanes.

One thing I really like about myself is ...that I'm a nice person. Usually.

When I'm feeling sad I...cry. A lot. And then I feel better :-)

When I daydream it's usually about...uh, so not going there!

I'm afraid of...flying. I know, it's 2011 and I'm 34 years old and need to get over a lifelong fear, but ...

I'm happiest when...I'm with my kids :-)

One thing that really worries me is ...being alone forever.

If I could change one thing about myself it would be...

about thirty pounds.

If I could be with anyone right now I would be with...some anonymous Mr. Wonderful who surely must exist, right? (I'm conspicuously avoiding putting down "Johnny Depp" yet again ... although pointing that out probably negates the effort)

The family member I am closest to is...my sister. I wish she lived closer, though :(

If I was really honest with my father I would tell him...Um, being honest with my father is probably not in the cards at this point.

One thing I regret about my life is ... nothing, really. I mean, I've had some incredible ups and downs, but one thing my life has never been is boring. There's something to be said for that.

If I only had one more day to live I would...stalk Johnny Depp. (Okay, I had to slip him in there)

If I was really honest with my mother I would tell her...that I appreciate everything and that I'm sorry that we hated each other for most of my life.

One thing about me that nobody knows is...that I have three scars that will never heal, as long as I live.

I hope that someday in the future...I will be a published author.

When I think about my family I feel...sad, since everyone is spread to the seven winds.

Something I'm really embarrassed about is...the fact that I drive an old lady car ;)

One thing about me I never want to change is...my sense of humor.

One thing I feel really proud of is... my children--my daughters AND my students :)

Blogsville has helped me to...know a lot of really amazing people that I'd never otherwise have gotten to know. Oh, and also Bud (haha, just kidding, Bud ... you rock : ))

One thing I like about blogsville is...it keeps me thinking, always :-)

The 30 Day Music Challenge: My Favorite Song

Well, I ran into something called "The 30 Day Music Challenge" over on Is That a Promise Or a Threat? Seeing as how music has maintained my sanity through a rather interesting life, I couldn't resist.  Here are the categories for each day.

So, to begin with, since it's Day One ... my favorite song, "Yellow Ledbetter" by Pearl Jam.

Day 01 – Your favorite song

Day 02 – Your least favorite song

Day 03 – A song that makes you happy

Day 04 – A song that makes you sad

Day 05 – A song that reminds you of someone

Day 06 – A song that reminds of you of somewhere

Day 07 – A song that reminds you of a certain event

Day 08 – A song that you know all the words to

Day 09 – A song that you can dance to

Day 10 – A song that makes you fall asleep

Day 11 – A song from your favorite band

Day 12 – A song from a band you hate

Day 13 – A song that is a guilty pleasure

Day 14 – A song that no one would expect you to love

Day 15 – A song that describes you

Day 16 – A song that you used to love but now hate

Day 17 – A song that you hear often on the radio

Day 18 – A song that you wish you heard on the radio

Day 19 – A song from your favorite album

Day 20 – A song that you listen to when you’re angry

Day 21 – A song that you listen to when you’re happy

Day 22 – A song that you listen to when you’re sad

Day 23 – A song that you want to play at your wedding

Day 24 – A song that you want to play at your funeral

Day 25 – A song that makes you laugh

Day 26 – A song that you can play on an instrument

Day 27 – A song that you wish you could play

Day 28 – A song that makes you feel guilty

Day 29 – A song from your childhood

Day 30 – Your favorite song at this time last year

Living With Learning Disabilities as an Adult

There is a basic assumption that I am intelligent because
a) I'm a teacher
b) I have an advanced graduate degree
c) I'm a writer (not prolific, true, but one of these days ...)

This is kind of a difficult topic for me to get into because it crosses into the personal more than I'm necessarily comfortable with, but I strongly believe that this is a topic that is under-addressed in society.

I found out when I was a junior in high school, after eleven years of public education, having my IQ tested numerous times (it's in the "superior" range, but I miss out on "genius" by a few points ;-)), and being dismissed as lazy and academically apathetic by virtually all of my teachers, that I have two specific learning disabilities. Several years later, ADHD was added to the mix.

I never had an IEP (special education plan) because my mother did not want me to be enabled. Her philosophy was that life was not going to make accommodations to my disabilities, so I might as well get used to it. Furthermore, I was pretty much about to graduate high school by the time anything would have been in place, so what was the point?

My disabilities were identified through an assessment done at Children's Hospital in Boston, and I cannot say enough good things about that experience. The staff there gave me specific ways that I could take control of both my education and my life (such as recording teacher lectures with a tape recorder, taking tests in silent locations, and so on), and I was a straight-A student my senior year of high school (good thing, too, considering the spotty transcript that preceded that year).

What I had that many students with disabilities don't is an exceptional strength that offset the weaknesses to a degree that I could function to some degree. In my case, of course, it was in the area of reading and, even more so, writing.

I could write an essay about something that I had no idea about, and my teachers would read them aloud as gold standards. I always felt a little guilty about this, but it was how things rolled.

I also have a quasi-photographic visual memory, which has probably been an even greater boon. If I see something, I will remember it with almost total recall, which is kind of a cool skill, I suppose. I am the master of the game Memory ;)

As an educator, I know that there is a label for students like I was--"twice exceptional", which basically means that I had both disabilities and areas of incredible strength.

But my intent with this post isn't to talk about my educational experiences, which would be, I suppose, kind of an interesting post in its own right and might happen one of these days.

No, it's to contemplate how my abilities, much as I know and understand them, have impacted me as an adult. This is an important discussion, I think, because schools today are actually really quick to identify students as disabled, to mass produce IEPs and 504 plans that provide what amounts to "blanket coverage" to ensure a degree of success in school but does not necessarily prepare a disabled child for real life.

I can't speak to a lot of disabilities, but I can bring up the three areas that I have personal experience with.

#1: Auditory Processing
There is absolutely nothing wrong with my hearing, per se, but I miss a lot of what I "hear" because there is a crossed wire (or something) in my brain that doesn't allow me to process what I hear.

This is one of the reasons that I avoid the telephone. It's not that I don't want to talk to people, but if there is any sort of background noise whatsoever (other people talking, the television being on, even something as simple as a fan or a car's engine), I'll more often than not let an incoming call go to voice mail.

It's kind of embarrassing to say, "What?" every time someone else talks.

I also have a tendency to avoid loud crowds of people for the same reason. I have to really struggle to follow conversations (I learned some lip reading through the staff at Children's, but I'm not great at it), and sometimes it's just not worth the trouble.

What I most enjoy, though, is that most professional development offered to teachers is of the "stand and deliver" school of thought. If I don't have something visual to follow, it's sort of like being back in history class listening as hard as I could to a lecture that went in one ear and out the other.

I am not a quiet person by any means (heh heh), but I often come off this way to people I first meet because I am very aware of my auditory processing issue and don't want to be remembered as the chick who kept saying, "What?! Say again, please? What did you say?"

#2: Spatial
Perhaps ironically when you consider my exceptional visual memory, I have virtually no spatial skills.

My mother is very into moving furniture around, for example, and she'll say, "What if we moved this coffee table there and swapped the couch and the loveseat around?" then get very frustrated when I explain that I can't visualize it.

In fact, she'll often try to draw me a map, which makes the situation even worse.

I cannot read maps. I have absolutely no sense of direction--I still get lost in my hometown, and while it qualifies as a city, it's not exactly huge. I think Mapquest, with its breakdown of how many miles you're on each road, is one of the best inventions ever.

I live on a state road that runs all the way to the beach. I once asked my mother if a certain city that was also on "Route 69" meant going east or west. She looked at me as though I was dumb and said, "Um ... what happens if you go east all the way to the end?" When I looked at her blankly, she elaborated, "You hit the ocean. If you don't want to go to the beach, you'd go the other way. That would be west." This was about six months ago.

And then, of course, there's math, which is virtually impossible if you have essentially no spatial skills. How do you explain the concept of a coefficient to someone that doesn't understand numbers? I walked into Algebra I thinking that X meant multiply.

When I took the GRE before applying for grad school, the results were almost funny. Almost. Verbal: 91st (I think ... it was ninety-something) %ile. Analytical: 75th %ile. Math: 3rd %ile. Third. That's kind of embarrassing ... but I was accepted to graduate school and maintained an A average, so I guess it doesn't really matter.

But when my students ask me to help them with math and I just look blankly at the problem, when I'm trying to calculate how many weeks away the first day of school is and I literally need a calendar in front of me to accomplish this, when I get lost on my way to the next town over ...

#3: ADHD
ADHD, perhaps the most misdiagnosed conditions in the world, is probably the condition that most identifies me as a person. Like, my ADHD is kind of a schoolwide joke at work.

Like most adults with ADHD, I
* live in a state of organized chaos. My desk at work, for example, is a landmark ... yet I have the distinction of being a teacher known for not losing student work.
* cannot sit in a meeting for extended periods of time without resorting to annoying habits like tapping my feet, moving around like I have ants in my pants, sitting backwards and sideways in chairs, shuffling papers around, and so on.
* have a fairly extensive history of impulsive, self-destructive behavior. I cannot say no to a dare, for example, because I'll be doing whatever I've been dared to do before my brain says, "Whoa, this is maybe not such a great idea" ... but I've gotten better about this.
* self-medicate (it's caffeine these days, which is far better than some past bad habits)
* need to multi-task, almost to a fault
* hyper-focus on certain things to calm myself down(I learned from a very young age to almost hypnotize myself through the act of reading)
* struggle with finishing what I've started. I have made tremendous progress in this area, but it still exists.
* am either adored (because I'm funny and endearing and goofy and all that) or the source of frustration (because I'm not always serious and am often loud and goofy and need to be reminded to get things done and such)
* am kind of a good time.

Although my disabilities have been the source of a great deal of frustration throughout my life, they are as much a part of who I am as anything else. I've reached a point where I like who I am in general, and I would not be me, the kind of person who enjoys the odd whipped cream fight and appreciates the better parts of myself all the more because of my deficiencies, if I was "normal" (which does not, in my opinion, exist anyway).

Uh ... squirrel!!!!!!!!!!!!

Character Development: Son of Late '60s Civil Rights Activists

Writing is kind of an undefinable experience. I think that's the kindest thing I can say about both the passion and frustration of my existence ... and what really and truly makes me who I am.

Yes, I have reached a point where I identify myself by my writing. Is that some sort of rite of passage? I don't know.

But anyway ...

Even before somebody told me, "Write what you know!", I did that. It was just the scope that grew, and sometimes I got swallowed up in that. I mean, I couldn't write about life as an adult when I was a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore, no matter how hard I tried.

But sometimes life or your muse or whatever hands you gifts.

The most memorable character in my completed novel, in my opinion, is Roy Pentinicci. I knew when I created Roy that he was the son of a mobster and was scarred permanently by his childhood.

As he stands now, Roy is a composite of three people.

The first and strongest influence is my longtime (and former) best friend, Andy--I think I've said before, but when I met Andy at a party when I was nineteen, I was like, "Holy crap, this guy is Roy!"

Andy is incredibly good-looking, he's been collecting many and varied sexual notches on his belt (and I'm not proud to admit it, but I own a few holes on said belt) since he was fourteen, he is street smart but not at all book smart, open to crazy adventures that you'll never forget, able to fix anything, incredibly charismatic, and really kind of a dink when you get right down to it. Andy's first concern will always be Andy, which is really kind of a tragedy.

The second influence is one of my former students, Chris. Chris had the kind of home life no child should ever have. He was eventually removed from his home, moved to a different state with a new family, and became a successful student and a star baseball player. He was a very street smart kid, and he also possessed a strong charisma that just drew people to him. Everybody listened when Chris started talking.

Like Andy, he had a tendency to look out for number one, but Chris has the ability to articulate his thanks, to understand the role that others played in the successes he has ultimately achieved in life and to be grateful for it. I still have a letter he wrote me on Teacher Appreciation Day many years ago, and I have stipulated in my will that I want to be buried with that letter because it meant so much to me.

Roy became kind because of my friend Roland, someone who is a polar opposite from the Andys and Chrises of the world. I'm not in touch with Roland as much as I used to be, which makes me sad, but unlike Andy and Chris, he has been known to read this blog, so I hope he sees this.

Roland is an introvert, a passionate reader, a mathematical genius, someone with the ability to see the world through the eyes of anybody, and an unfailingly kind person. He thinks outside the box, and his intelligence is frightening at times. He is one of the deepest people I have ever met, and I was never able to really like Roy as a character until Roland's influence stepped in.

And so life gave me three people who fit together (and it's not 1/3 + 1/3 + 1/3, by the way ... Roy is 75% Andy, the good and the bad) to create a flawed, fascinating character when combined with what I already know.

That manuscript has a dedication page, and it's in three parts--one to the girl who was my best friend from first grade through high school, one to my brother Adam and my sister Mary (they know why), and one to Andy, Chris, and Roland (you'll get their real names when the book's published ;-)).

I've flown rather far afield from my point, though, which is this: you can only sit there and wait for life to give you a character for so long.

My latest WIP has a supporting character who I know is the son of Civil Rights activists that protested with Martin Luther King, Jr. and were present at his assassination in 1968. I can't get a handle on either this man and woman or on their son.

This is what I know:

The boy does not like to talk about his parents.

He feels tremendous pressure to prove himself in a world that his parents fought for him to belong to, and he resents that pressure, although he doesn't realize it.

He suffers racist acts, including a burning cross placed on the lawn of his dorm and fairly regular posting of slurs on bathroom doors.

He is fiercely brilliant in the classroom but turns on the Eubonics when he is out of his teachers' range.

I know that his parents travel around the country on a lecture circuit, sharing their experiences.

They do not trust what they see as the tenuous truce African-Americans have with America.

They are disgusted by Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson.

They are shocked when two of their son's (white) best friends get in a physical altercation with a bully at school who refers to him by a racial epithet, facing expulsion in the process.

They feel an obligation to "make it up" to their son's friends, which is a bit awkward for everyone involved.

I cannot for the life of me write these characters with any sort of dimension at all. It's like writing about Roy before I met Andy, and I am very frustrated.

I am not a sloppy researcher. I have read extensively about this time period, about the people who would be their peers, about the tribulations faced by a child of activists.

Yet I can't seem to make these characters--either the parents, which is bad, or the boy, which is even worse--come alive.

Anybody have ideas, suggestions, or even some criticism? I love my work in progress, but I'm at a roadblock that I can't seem to get around.

Um ... help!