Strange Little Collecting Project

Anyone who knows a teacher knows that we are some of the best complainers in the world, but around this time of the year, we get even better at griping. It's probably because we're getting e-mails everyday about how much more our declining health insurance is going to cost next year, and how much of a raise we aren't going to get again...ever. (It would be like ordering a large pizza for $8.00, and then being told by the pizza-man you could get a small for $10.00, and who in their right mind is going to celebrate that?). But I realized last week as I was driving home (from my 2nd job that I've recently had to take on to help make ends meet) that North Carolina legislators are taking a pretty risky gamble with their younger teachers. Right now I'm currently a fifth year teacher making what a 2nd year teacher made 3 years ago. The problem is that gas doesn't cost what it did 3 years ago. Groceries don't either. Recently my utilities went up 7.2 percent also. N...

Living in North Carolina during March can be tough, especially if you aren't a basketball fan. And if you tell someone in North Carolina that you don't like basketball, they act like you've just said that you don't like Cheerwine, Krispy Kreme, or Jesus. In North Carolina people don't just love basketball. They devour it. They plan their entire month of March around it, scheduling surgeries during the NCAA tournament so they can miss work and watch basketball, or unscheduling birthday parties and weddings so they can do the same.They indoctrinate their children and dress them in onesies and bibs dedicated to a specific team. They raise flags in their yards, and put stickers on their cars in support of their team. They wear the same color everyday for weeks and talk junk to friends, family, coworkers, strangers in line at the pharmacy. It's called March Madness for a reason. Trying to explain why I don't like March Madness is difficult. Before I star...

I have a reoccurring nightmare that leaves me in a complete panic when I wake up. And it's technically not scary. It's not apocalyptic, gory, or tragic. It's just stressful. It's me needing to be at work in 5 minutes, but suddenly I find myself driving my car in Upstate New York. My GPS tells me that my estimated time of arrival is 11 hours later. When I realize that there is no possible way that I will make it to work on time, I start to panic. My sleeping, subconscious brain runs itself ragged trying to figure out some way to make it to work. I try to find the nearest airport, but then realize even if I found an airport I still wouldn't make it. (And even my sleeping, subconscious brain knows I wouldn't be able to afford the plane ticket). I always wake up feeling helpless and anxious, but I calm down as soon as I realize that I am in control. I would never be irresponsible enough to drive to Upstate New York before work. And sleeping late doesn't usually ...

In 2005 Oprah ruined my life. That’s entirely an overstatement but she did change it significantly. Usually Oprah is attributed with making people’s lives easier. She’ll give them a new car, 17 iPads, a small country in the southern hemisphere. All Oprah ever gave me was a hard time. In May of 2005 I was working at the Jockey outlet store at the Tanger Mall in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. Selling discounted underwear was by no means a glamorous job, but it was easy, it paid relatively well, and I worked with some good people. We felt united in the necessary but frequently awkward role we played as underwear retailers. I always felt like I was doing a service because I knew that buying underwear made some people feel vulnerable. I myself have gone to a store to buy underwear and then when I realized who would be ringing me up, I put it back and left the store. Either they were too male, or too attractive, or too all of the above. I hated the idea of some size 0 asshole (whose...