Playing the Game

I can't check my yahoo email at work so I don't get emails about things going on until I check it at night. And if there's an email about that very night then I've already dropped the ball. When I checked my email tonight I saw messages about going to Xochimilco's and then when I grabbed my phone to call about said email I noticed that i had missed a call. I think I was outside chasing Raffi when I missed the call. So no mexican food for me. It's okay though, I have papers that need to be graded. And speaking of grading, I found out yesterday that the teacher I'm covering is not coming back until after Memorial Day. I'm both happy and not happy about this. I'm happy cause it means mo' money but I'm not happy cause it means a week or two more of this hellish subbing position.

I know I'm selfish but sometimes I wonder if I'm more selfish than others or if we're just selfish creatures. Don't we all want it to be about us? I want to be somebody's muse. I want to read something and know that it's about me.

Yesterday for Mother's Day my father instructed the children of mothers to write a poem for their mother to be read aloud at dinner. He gave us this assignment like weeks ago and I was the only one who actually did it, everyone else just went up to the podium and said kind words about their mother or the mother of their children (yes, we had a podium). So I read my poem aloud to everyone and they all look impressed yet shocked. Barbara says to me, "Wow. That was really good." And then she gave me a hug. And my father says to the group, "Whew. I think we were all a little afraid about what Jessica was going to have written but she didn't talk about death or this cruel, cruel world at all. that was actually quite touching." I hope I don't lose my street cred.