Miss Bunn

Miss Bunn is me. She's the lady at school. The blonde one. The one who works in small groups and teaches kids how to pronounce words in Spanish even though she doesn't know the meaning of the words. Miss Bunn is funny. Kids really like her.

I don't like being called, "Miss Bunn." When I was in Ukraine, I was called by my first name by students, teachers, and friends alike. I didn't want to feel like an old lady.

Today, I realized that I am, in fact, an old lady. The girls I teach transitions English to were born in 1999 or 2000, during my junior year of high school. Now I see why they might expect me to be married. They look at me and think, "she's old."

They don't understand the "Miss" thing. I'm older. That's all that counts. So they call me Mrs. Bunn most of the time.

One day, the kids asked me my age. First Deisy asked, "are you an adult?" to which Daniela answered, "Yeah, she's an adult, she has a job." But what made my day was when Virginia said, "I thought you were a teenager." That's sweet, right. I'm young. My bones aren't getting brittle yet!

priorities

We all have priorities. Some of us choose family, friends, or fun. Some might choose partying, work, numbing the mind, or sitting at home.

I usually choose people. I surround myself with my family and friends. So I plan events and outings with the important people in my life.

My dad and I had plans tonight. We were going to watch the new Batman movie. But when I got off of work, I had a new text message. We needed to reschedule so my dad wouldn't miss his show. Nine PM every Monday night. One Tree Hill. To be honest, my entire family is invested in this addicting but somewhat unrealistic show.

But seriously. We had to cancel our outing to stay home and watch a RERUN on TV. I think the old man needs to take a good look at his priorities.

A Date With My Mother

The other day, I went on a date with my mom. It was a regular Friday but instead of going home as I seem to do just about every Friday night, I had plans...with my mom. We drove up to Portland to go to a movie. Our mission: to watch The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants 2. Instead of going to the show that started when we arrived, we opted to go to the later showing and grab some dinner and do a little shopping in the meantime. We wandered the mall, made a few unnecessary purchases, and went to eat at Macaroni Grill, my mom's favorite restaurant.

And so it was. We had dinner, talked about our lives and as my mother took her first bite of dessert, a horrific look came across her face. "I'm full," she said.

"No you are not. Have one more bite," was my response.

She didn't try any more but watched as I sifted through the questionably textured apple dessert.

When we finally left the restaurant, we went back up to the movie theater. After each set of escalators, my mom had to stop. I know she was often cursed with motion sickness but after an escalator...seriously. We reached the top and...she had to throw up. Instead of spewing out on the spectators four floors down, she rushed to the bathroom where she blew chunks.

It was just a regular night hanging out with my mom. What more could I ask for?

Relationship Wizard

My sister got herself a new boyfriend. I'm sure he's nice and all but somehow he's turned my sister into a melted carmel sundae. She's all liquidy about him. She spends all her time thinking about him and when she's not thinking about him, she's calling him or texting him on her oh-so-fantastic cell phone.

Are all relationships like this?

I'm not a very relationship oriented person. Truth is, I don't understand the concept of relationships. I care too much about myself to really give up what I want for the sake of someone else. On occasion I can be a nice person. I share and give up my valuable time to help out my friends and family. But why would I do this for some guy?

I wouldn't. I had my heart broken once and although I "learned something" from the experience, I don't really see the point of having my heart cut up into shreds again.

There is something to be said about those people who truly diverge themselves into the realm of dating. They are dare-devils, masochists. They put their faith in other people. At times, they fail. Sometimes they succeed. No matter what, they move on, keep trying and if they find that unlikely person that they can actually stand, they try harder, willing the relationship to last.

I don't get it. I wonder if I ever will. For now, I choose to be flabbergasted. And I'm okay with that.

strange encounter

Yesterday, I went to the Yamhill County Fair. I was on a date with my father, but I still met up with a few of my friends from work so we could all watch the concert. Blue Oyster Cult was on stage. The band is from the seventies and most of the members were obviously not the originals, but it was still pretty great. I had a few beers to boost morale and help me enjoy the music.

While I was talking animatedly to my co-workers, my dad stepped aside to pick the brains of the men in uniform behind us. My dad is a retired colonel, you see. He started talking to one of them for a while and somehow it came up that I was in the Peace Corps for a spell. The guy, Joshua, must not have been so bright because he still thought I was in college. I'm WAY too old for college now, that is, unless I EVER get into grad school.

Joshua tried to get me to join the air national guard. I don't have too much against the military, I mean, my dad worked for the government for the better part of his life but I mean seriously, I'm not the type of person you want to recruit. I was in Peace Corps. I don't believe in working for the man (even though that's kinda what I do now at the bank).

The worst part of the whole thing was that the guy gave me his card to call. Of course, he wasn't hitting on me, he was trying to get me to sign up for the air guard. And then when I ran into him later, he said that as a former Peace Corps volunteer, I couldn't join. Um, I wasn't going to but now there is DEFINITELY no reason to call...

Hmph.

lobsterback attack

I like to swim. I always have. There was never anything more fun to do than go swimming on a hot summer day.

This weekend was warm. It was more than warm. It was hot. On Saturday, rather than writing, studying for the GRE or learning more about how I can save the world, I took a small road towards hedonism by laying out in the sun. I engaged in some light reading and fell asleep, once on the beach chair I was lying in for most of the time and twice in the pool while in my floating bed.

Three hours of leisure led to at least a week of true pain. Skin such as mine cannot take the burn that has encased my back.

And so my back matches the red shirt that dons it each night. I can only hope that soon the freckles will take over and take all the ache out of it.

Too busy with life

In Ukraine, I lived a simple life. I had time to call my family and visit my old Ukrainian babycya across the street. My time was free. I had hobbies, would travel to see my friends on weekends and always had time to help my friends whenever they asked me to do something.

But now I am in America. My life is chaotic. Every day is so full to the brim with work or entertaining others that I have no time to myself. I have no time to do the things I love.

What does that mean? To say "I have no time" to do something is pointless. I have the same amount of time here that I did when I was in Ukraine. I have twenty-four hours every day to do what I want. It is my choice to do whatever I choose. Obviously if I am telling myself that I have no time to myself, I am doing something wrong. I need to take care of myself. We need to enjoy this life we have. Not only is this our one life to live, but I truly believe we'd better enjoy living it.