Question of the Week: Live or Exist

What is the difference between living and existing?

The difference here lies in how each person approaches the life they've been given. A person who simply exists is someone who sits back and lets life happen. They go with the flow, allowing the current of life's river to carry them along. Someone who is living doesn't settle for whatever life brings them. This person makes life happen. They forge their own destiny, pulling out an oar and directing their own course along life's river.

Sandy Hook

I'm not an emotional person. I generally don't get excited over the joyous times in my life. I don't weep over a lot of the mournful times in my life. But as I write these words, I have tears sliding down my cheeks. I'm overwhelmed with sadness, anger and confusion.

There are no words that can make sense of this senseless situation. I'm sitting in my room with the television on, the news continually washing over me. I watch as reporters try their best to make sense of a senseless situation.

I work in an elementary school. I work with small children each and every day. I'm having an incredibly difficult time separating the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut from the kids I've come to know this school year.

Over the coming days and weeks, our holiday season will be haunted by the question why. And there's a very good chance that we'll never get the answers to many of the whys that will be brought up.

My heart breaks for the community of Newtown and the families touched by this catastrophe. Pray for those families. Pray for the survivors. Pray for the investigators. Pray for your own children and others' children across the country who will also attempt to make sense of a senseless situation.

I'm not a parent. If you are, hug your kids a little bit tighter tonight. Tell them just how much you love them. Let them know how special they really are.

The Mark of Athena

Title: The Mark of Athena
Author: Rick Riordan
Published: 2012

Welcome to book three of Rick Riordan's Heroes of Olympus series. This, of course, is the sequel series to his previous Percy Jackson and the Olympians. This one picks up immediately where The Son of Neptune left off, with Annabeth, Jason, Leo and Piper arriving at Camp Jupiter in the Argo II, an airship built by Leo. It was difficult for me to really remember everything I needed to remember going into this thing since it's been a little over a year since I read the last book. But the author is nice enough to fill in the gaps along the way.

The world is still in peril. The earth mother, Gaea, is still in the process of waking from her slumber. Her plan to fully awaken and destroy mankind is progressing nicely, despite the young heroes' attempts to stall her. Each action taken by the heroes, though seeming to be the right thing to do, generally ends up playing right into the dirt napper's muddy hands.

In this installment, we follow all seven of the demigods who are identified in the great prophecy that predicts Gaea's awakening. Particularly of interest is Annabeth. Being a daughter of Athena, her role in a book titled The Mark of Athena seems undeniably important. While the entire group is on a quest to stop Gaea from waking, Annabeth must undertake a side quest of her own, following the mark of Athena to find an important object that could heal the rift between Greece and Rome. This is a rift that has been there for thousands of years, so her task is not an easy one.

But before Annabeth can follow the mark of Athena, she and her fellow heroes have to face obstacles all along their path to the Old World. Leo is briefly possessed by an evil spirit that forces him to attack Camp Jupiter (this really doesn't help with that rift between the Greeks and Romans). They come across the ultimate narcissist, Narcissus. They meet up with Bacchus, the Roman version of Camp Half-Blood director Dionysus. And as they enter the Mediterranean Sea, they meet the legendary Hercules, who turns out to be a pretty big jerk.

Like with the previous novels in this series, the heroes have to face a giant or two. Unlike the previous novels in this series, that battle with the giants is somewhat anti-climactic. The real excitement is saved for Annabeth and her side quest. She faces Arachne, the woman who once challenged Athena to a weave-off and, according to the myth, lost. As punishment for her arrogance, Athena turned her into a spider. It seems that all children of Athena have an innate fear of spiders for this very reason. But Annabeth succeeds and is reunited with the other heroes just in the nick of time but then... I won't say what happens. But it's good. And it's a cliffhanger, which I hate. Because I have to wait until next year for the next book in the series to come out.

All in all, I give it a thumbs up. And if you're interested in going back and reading my thoughts on the previous books in the world of Percy Jackson, the links are below.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians
The Lightning Thief
The Sea of Monsters
The Titan's Curse
The Battle of the Labyrinth
The Last Olympian

The Heroes of Olympus
The Lost Hero
The Son of Neptune

New Tales from Old Navy: Staying Late

The store is staying open later these days to accomodate holiday shoppers who are unable to gt their shopping done during normal business hours. I've never really understood this policy that most stores adopt. As Christmas approaches, stores stay open later and later. Do later hours really attract more people?

Thus far, I haven't seen it. Last week, we were staying open until 10pm. This week, we're there until 11. After that, it'll be midnight. I'm not sure that this strategy works, though. I can count the number of customers we get in our final hour on one hand.

I heard one woman who was grateful for our extended hours. She said she was a nurse working the night shift at the hospital. Our staying open late gives her a chance to buy stuff before going to work. But I have to question the motives of some of the other late-night shoppers.

Particularly, I question the family that brings in three very small children at 9pm to do some shopping. It's a school night! Your 1st grader should be at home in bed so she can be ready for tomorrow's school day. I'd be able to understand if you had a real purpose for rushing in that late at night. "My daughter ripped a hole in her jeans today and she needs a new pair for school tomorrow!" That makes more sense than leisurely strolling around the store with no real destination.

I'm not trying to judge your parenting style, but... Yes, I am judging your parenting style.

It's Not Easy Being Mean

Last Friday I had the joy and distinct pleasure of joining the first grade on a field trip. Please note: my use of the words "joy" and "pleasure" are dripping with sarcasm. I still argue that sarcasm needs its own font. Or possibly its own punctuation.

In the weeks leading up to this field trip, I was somewhat excited. A field trip means a day away from the school. It means a change of routine and a breath of fresh air. Little did I know that fresh air would end up being vile and full of virulent contagions.

The day before the planned trip, the first grade teacher began sharing her fears about taking this class on this trip. The plan was to ride into downtown Roanoke (an hour drive by bus) to the history museum. There, we would meet Santa Claus and see an exhibit of antique toys. Apparently, the museum provided a list of rules which included staying quiet and not touching the exhibits. Inability to adhere to these rules could result in being asked to leave. Thinking about the majority of this first grade class, I could understand the teacher's fears.

The day of the trip arrived. We all loaded the bus without much incident and we were on our way. Oh, I should also mention, we were traveling with two kindergarten classes as well. This means there were approximately twice as many kindergarteners as first graders. If you had a bus with 30 or so kindergarteners and 16 first graders, which group would you think would give you the most trouble. I'd say the kindergarteners, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong, though. It's the first graders.

They were constantly standing in their seats, yelling, screaming, complaining about who they had to sit with. A few, no matter how many times they were told, kept getting up and turning around. It was quite irritating (really not a strong enough word).

By some amazing Christmas miracle, we did not get kicked out of the museum. But the kids were pretty rude while Santa explained the importance of being good and following directions. Some laid on the floor, not listening. Some rolled around on the floor. One girl peed in her pants. She was sitting right next to the teacher and didn't think to ask to go to the bathroom.

The class picture with Santa was not without incident. The girl who had the biggest problem listening, who we'll call Annoyance, pulled Santa's beard. Not a fake beard, by the way. And good for the old man for not backhanding that kid. That might have been my first impulse in his boots. On the plus side, the kids didn't take turns sitting on Santa's lap. He didn't have to deal with Peed-In-Her-Pants Girl.

Lunch was in the Market Building, which was always a highlight of downtown field trips when I was a kid. But that's back when the international food court was a big thing. Not many options after the renovations. We ate our packed lunches up on the mezzanine level overlooking the food court. Annoyance attempted to lift a kindergarten girl over the rail of the barrier. I'd never heard her teacher yell that loud before.

When lunch ended, we had the students line up outside to await the bus. Annoyance decided it would be a great idea to start pulling flowers out of hte decorative planters surrounding the Market Building. More yelling from the teacher. Would you believe that Annoyance is not one of my clients?

I can't believe I left this out. It's kind of important to the story. A couple of us grown-ups met the bus at the Market Building before lunch to unload all the packed meals. When the bus pulled away, it knocked over a metal pole at the curb. Two of the four bolts holding it to the street were ripped up, sending chunks of asphalt and concrete flying. I set it back upright so no one would get in trouble. But a strong wind could have knocked over again. Anyway...

I offered to intimidate the children, frightening them with feats of strength. The plan was to knock over the metal pole at the curb, threatening to do the same to the kids if they could not wait quietly. I should have done it.

Back on the bus. More complaining, screaming, yelling, standing. The kindergarteners were still fairly quiet. This may have been because many of them were feeling bus sick. Throughout the trip, we may have been seconds away from becoming a rolling vomitorium at any given time. That nauseating feeling was only perpetuated by the stench of urine coming from Peed-In-Her-Pants Girl sitting in the back. It was, I wanna say, really bad.

Here comes the part where I get mean. It doesn't happen often, so people who witness it are sometimes impressed. I wouldn't describe it as a loss of temper. I think I just choose to speak or act with authority, whether I actually have it or not.

Annoyance was constantly getting up. Shocker, right? I stood up and towered over her (I'm short, but I can tower over a six-year-old). "Sit down!" I shouted. Again, with authority, not anger. It was enough authority to probably shock most of the other kids into silence for a moment. Amazingly, she sat. And she stayed seated until the bus stopped at a gas station halfway to the school.

We needed a short break for the kids feeling queasy. The first graders took that opportunity to stand, whine, yell, complain and scream some more. I stood up again. I faced all the first graders.

"You are all being entirely too loud. The kindergarteners are all sitting quietly, the way you're supposed to when you ride the bus. We have 20 minutes left on this bus. I expect each of you to stay in your seat and sit quietly. You can talk, but I don't want to hear anyone yelling. Raise your hand if you understand everything I just said." Every hand shot up. "Good, then all of you can follow directions."

Before I could even sit back in my own seat, Peed-In-Her-Pants Girl stood up and turned around in the aisle. "Peed-In-Your-Pants Girl! Didn't I just tell everyone to stay in their seat?!" She sat immediately and put her jacket over her head.

We started moving again. It wasn't long before Annoyance found a loophole in my directions. She wasn't getting up, but she put her legs in the aisle and turned around to annoy a boy behind her. Eventually he became so annoyed that he slapped her (after asking her several times to turn back around).

I stepped back in. "Annoyance, if you turn around again I'm going to come back there and sit on you."

Two minutes later, she was facing the back again. So I stood up, ready to follow through on my promise. Annoyance stood up, not wanting me to sit on her lap. She told me she didn't want me to sit on her lap. She told me she didn't want me to sit on her. "Then you shouldn't have turned around again. Sit down!"

Annoyance sat. She, too, covered her head with her jacket. Pretty sure I made her cry. I was a little concerned that my actions may have been frowned upon, but I received a high five from the principal upon returning to the school.

And that is the true story of my first, and hopefully last first grade field trip.

Question of the Week: Celebrate

Do you celebrate the things you do have?

Not as much as I should. For example, I spent a great deal of time and energy mourning the loss of my Playstation on Saturday. I can get by just fine without the thing. It's just that not having it is an inconvenience. Instead of complaining about not having a luxury item, I should really just be grateful for all that I still have. I'm blessed enough to have so many of my needs met on a daily basis. Okay, all my needs. On top of that, I get to have a lot of wants that I just take for granted.

RIP PS3

My Playstation 3 died this morning. She was 4 years old.

I purchased the PS3 as a used piece of machinery from a video game store not long after I moved to Wake Forest, North Carolina. It was early 2008 and I had recently received my tax refund check. I had money to burn. At the time, I could have very easily talked myself out of buying the thing. After all, it's not a cheap system, even if it's used. But I very easily talked myself into buying it. The version I bought was backwards compatible, meaning I could play all those PS2 games I had accumulated since college. It was a Bluray player, meaning I could watch lots of awesome movies in high definition. That was enough to get my money.

Later, the PS3 became an even more awesome investment since I was able to play streaming movies through Netflix. Over the years, with the ridiculous expense of cable, the Playstation 3 has become my all-in-one entertainment center. I've had no need for, really, anything else. Cable's useless. I rarely watch TV live anymore since Hulu Plus is also available on the Playstation. Fewer commercials that way.

Last night, before going to bed, I decided to watch a DVD. For record keeping purposes, the movie was The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. It was a good movie. Once it ended, I turned off the system (leaving the disc in it) and went to bed.

This morning I had some free time. So I thought it would be fun to play a video game. Something I rarely do during the school year. Things get in the way and I just don't have the time. I turned on the system. The red light turned green, letting me know it was powering up. It quickly flashed yellow. Then switched back to red. Then it was flashing. There was no indication of the disc inside it. When I tried to eject the movie, the machine just beeped angrily at me.

I called the good people at Sony customer service. I told the woman on the line basically what I just typed above. Apparently she wasn't listening because her first bit of advice was to turn on the Playstation. Seriously? That's your first step? I hadn't thought of that. Why didn't I think to turn the machine on?

When I explained, again, that the PS3 could not be turned on, she told me that I have two options. My first option would be to have the system shipped to Sony so they could fix it. This would cost me $129 plus tax and shipping. They would be able to retrieve the disc but there was really no guarantee that they could fix the machine. Option 2 involved trading in my current, old school PS3 for a newer model to the tune of $99 plus tax and shipping. The problem there is I lose everything I've saved on the PS3 hard drive. Also, the new models are not backwards compatible. So all those old PS2 games I have become worthless pieces of round plastic.

"So, basically, I'm screwed," I said into the phone. My voice came out of my mouth with an extremely irritated tone. I immediately apologized to the woman on the other end of the line. It wasn't her fault that the Playstation decided to kick the bucket. She just happened to be the unfortunate operator who happened to pick up when I was next in the queue. And she probably gets calls from customers more irate than me all the time. I hate sounding pissed off with someone who had nothing to do with my actual problem.

Since I had nothing to lose, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I haven't been under warranty for a very long time. So I broke the seal. I opened her up. I took her apart. I got my movie back. But that's all I was able to successfully do.

I looked online and, apparently, my problem has been deemed the "Yellow Light of Death." YouTubers have posted numerous videos explaining how to fix the problem. It involves a hair dryer and about 45 minutes of your day. Unfortunately, I don't have a hair dryer. And even if I did, they all make it clear that this is not a permanent fix. Eventually, the Yellow Light of Death would return to claim the PS3 again. That kind of makes me ask the question, "What's the point?"

So I've decided to let it go. I got angry. It's a huge inconvenience. But it doesn't end my life. So now I've accepted it. I can get by without a Playstation 3 for a while. Eventually, I'll be able to save up enough money to buy a brand new Playstation. And it will be a luxury item that I will once again be able to enjoy.

Or maybe it's not just an inconvenience. Maybe it's just another sign of the apocalypse. Why are the Mayans screwing with me!?

The Hazards of Having a Hippopotamus for Christmas

I'm sure by now most of you have heard the Christmas classic "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas." I say classic because the song is nearly 60 years old. I don't call it a classic because I enjoy hearing it year after year. I find it to be obnoxious. And irritating. And extremely catchy. Which is probably the most irritatingly obnoxious aspect of the song's appeal.

If you haven't heard the song, count your blessings (I'll get negative feedback for that, I'm sure. People tend to get really defensive about this thing for some reason). And, if you haven't heard it, you probably don't know it's sung by a little girl who is basically asking Santa Claus for a hippopotamus for Christmas. Though, I suppose you could have gleaned that tidbit of information from the title.

To give the little girl credit, she's only asking for a hippo. Nothing else on her wish list. Just a 4,000 pound mammal that she can hide in her garage. Like most kids who ask for a pet, she swears that she'll take care of it all by herself. Can you imagine a 10-year-old child taking care of a hippopotamus? Let's imagine that scenario for a moment.

The first problem this kid should think about is the feeding of the hippo. She's right when she mentions the hippo being a vegetarian. But has she thought about how much vegetation it would take to keep a creature of that size alive? Roughly 150 pounds of grass on a daily basis. All right, I mowed my share of lawns as a teenager. Okay, I mowed my lawn as a teenager. But I did it many times. And we didn't have one of those mulching mowers. So after mowing, I raked grass into piles and bagged it to be thrown out with the trash. I always questioned it; figured there had to be a better way. I was just doing as I was told. Anyway, I think we can all agree that I'm a wuss when it comes to the heavy lifting. If I could lift a bag full of grass clippings, I think I can safely say that it was significantly less than 150 pounds. For argument's sake, let's just say the little girl with the hippo is allowing the animal to graze in her back yard. Her over-sized pet is probably ripping the grass out by the roots as it eats. Eventually, there won't be any grass left. Probably after one day of feeding. And then what do you do, little girl? Will little miss "I'm gonna take care of my hippopotamus" go out and get a job so she can pay for the ridiculous amounts of grass that the hippo will need to eat? I don't think so. There are child labor laws that would prevent such a travesty. That means that mommy and daddy are paying for your hippo's food. Lesson the first: You can't properly feed a hippo in the back yards of suburbia.

Problem number two involves the hippo's enclosure. That's what the zoos call them these days. But a two-car garage will not make for a proper hippopotamus habitat. Hippos thrive in lakes and rivers. They like to spend their days wallowing in mud. It keeps them cool on the hot African savannah. I can't imagine that mom and dad will be too thrilled if their little girl attempts to fill the garage with wet dirt. Even so, again, how would she pay for such a thing? Granted, she'll have plenty of mud in your backyard once it rains after her hippo's first (and only) grazing. This still doesn't solve the problem of having some deep water where her hippo can frolic. If the family has a pool, that may work. I wouldn't chlorinate the thing, for the hippo's sake. But a pool seriously takes up space, giving a lot less room for grass to grow. Lesson the second: A hippo will not be comfortable hanging out on a concrete floor with oil stains 24/7.

Finally we come to the issue of a hippo's aggression. By nature, hippopotami are very aggressive beasts. If our little songstress receives a male, she'll have to deal with his extreme territorial behavior every time she tries to feed him his 150 pounds of grass clippings. If she gets a female, well, God help her parents if the hippo becomes attached. The females are overly protective of their young. I'm not sure how it works with hippo to human bonding, but it's an experiment I would not be willing to partake in. Of course, this is ignoring the fact that hippos have been known to attack humans without provocation. So imagine what they would do if a certain little girl forgets to let them outside for their time in the pool. CHOMP! That jaw closes with 1800 pounds of force and someone's coming back from the garage missing an arm. Not that the hippo would eat the arm. He or she still prefers the grass that it hasn't been getting since clearing out the back yard. Lesson the third: Hippos are just mean.

It is my sincere hope that this little girl did not, in fact, receive a hippopotamus for Christmas in 1953. I hope her parents made her settle for a screening of Fantasia. At the very least, she should be happy with that scene involving ballerina hippos. Maybe her parents took her to a decent zoo with a hippo exhibit. Sadly, she had to wait 25 years for Hungry Hungry Hippos to be introduced to the world. But it's my hope that she was able to enjoy that game in her adulthood.

New Tales from Old Navy

It's been a long time since I've worked a job in retail. The last time was back in 2005. At the time I was working full time in an entry level position in the human services field. This necessitated a part time job with Old Navy to help me put a little extra into my student loans.

I was only there for a few months. For one thing, I received a promotion at the children's home which came with a bump in my salary. For another, that full time gig was an overnight job. That made it very difficult to be a daywalker.

Fast forward seven years. After spending too much time in the world of banking, I've come back to the human services field. But that also means, essentially, that I'm back in an entry level position. This, yet again, necessitates a part time position to help with the monthly budget.

This has brought me right back to Old Navy. I went online, applied and, thankfully, they rehired me. As of now, I'm only considered a seasonal employee. My hope is that my position will become more permanent after the New Year. My need for this extra income won't disappear after Christmas.

Not sure if I've mentioned this, but when I'm not at the school working with the kids, I don't get paid. Election Day? No pay. Thanksgiving break? No pay. Christmas vacation? Two weeks of no pay. And those are just the scheduled days off. I don't want to think about the snow we may or may not get.

While I really don't want a second job, times are tight. I was barely able to get by on what I had this past summer thanks to all that time off school. Hopefully the good people of Old Navy will keep me around to see me through the winter. And next summer. And probably next winter.

Question of the Week: Judging You

What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

I would drive differently. And I do drive differently when no one else is in the car with me. Real life example: I'm carpooling now. We've recently hired a new counselor at my school. Since we live near each other, it makes sense to ride to work together. The two of us have decided to take my car since it gets the best gas mileage. So now I feel like I should drive a little more slowly on the treacherous road that I usually drive at breakneck speeds. It's a scary road. I don't want to scare her off in the first week.