Maybe I’m PMSing. I get super emotional. I was in meetings with the optional coordinator, then with my 5th grader’s teacher, and then the guidance counselor at our elementary school this morning. I cried at every meeting. I hate this whole system. My son’s test scores put him in the 99th percentile nationally for reading, and 77th for math. He has to be in the 80th percentile or better in both subjects to get into our school of choice. 😭 It’s a great school, or so I hear, but the basis of it’s appeal is that Jack’s son goes there and he can provide transportation to and from school, since that’s where he has to go anyway.
The other good public middle school in our district has lower acceptance criteria and he’d meet the requirements easily, but I have no idea how he’d get to and from school, since busses aren’t available if you choose a school other than the one you’re zoned for.
The school we’re zoned for I’m sure would be okay. It’s an optional school as well, so he would be in the advanced and gifted classes. Bus transportation to and from school would be provided. But that leads me to… would my 11 year old be okay to ride the bus home and stay there by himself for 3 hours? He’ll be 12 in November. Both children are in aftercare at school this year, but I wouldn’t be able to make it from work to TWO different schools to pick up the kids by 6. I usually arrive at their school with very few minutes to spare. I already leave work an hour before the office closes to be able to pick them up by six. Leaving even earlier isn’t an option.
And I can’t really afford to take three days off work to camp out in the line at the school board office either. I’m a poor single mom whose ex husband doesn’t feel the need to help provide for his kids. I’ve got rent to pay. The whole system is FUCKED.
All the people I spoke with at school began the conversation with “oh you REALLY don’t want Micah to go to the school you’re zoned for” and after explaining the situation, it turned to “well, Micah is a really smart kid and he works hard and I know he’ll do well anywhere he ends up.” 😕
I realized the other day that I haven’t done a milestone post since Luna was twelve months old! It kinda fell off once she hit that first birthday. Since the old format doesn’t really fit her current age, I thought I’d do a questionnaire that’s been going around.
1. What is her full name?
Luna Yukiko Moriyama
2. Does she have any nicknames?
Lulu, Lulubelle, Bunny, etc.
3. How old is she?
4. How big is she?
She’s 31 inches tall and about 30 lbs, which is solidly in the 99th percentile for weight, but only the 50th or so for height. She’s been on that track since she was three months though!
5. What is her favorite
Right now it’s going to the library! This is because we take the bus, and I just started to let her hand our tickets to the driver. But she loves to read with me - heaven help me if I try to skip her bedtime story.
6. What is her favorite movie?
Ponyo! She loves the ocean shots in particular - she’s mesmerized by the fish swimming around on screen.
7. Is she a picky eater?
She’s the absolute opposite. This kid loves to eat anything and everything. At the end of the day I have to empty all the Cheerios and other snacks out of her pockets or I’ll hear her munching on something at 3 AM.
8. What was her first word, and how old was she when she said
I consider her first real word to be “Daddy”, but in reality it was probably “apple”. She said them both at eleven months! She could sign them a couple months earlier though.
9. How is she towards
the other children?
Aggressively friendly. She likes to tackle-hug people, then grab their hands and drag them towards her destination of choice. I always have to reminder her to be gentle. But she’s good at sharing everything but food!
10. What is the cutest thing she does?
Right now Luna talks to her dolls all the time, which I find adorable. I’ll be cooking in the kitchen and she’ll be under the table, singing to her sheep. She’s also picked up the habit of patting me and saying “My Daddy”. Not sure where she learned that from, but it’s cute! (I find nearly everything she does cute.)
This is the day I had been anxiously awaiting since sophomore year. I never thought I would get into Penn. But there was always that hope. I could go to bed at night and think, “maybe, just maybe I will get into Penn.” Well no more. No more hope, no more fluttery excitement in my stomach every time someone says Wharton or UPenn. And hell yes, I am disappointed. My family could not be more supportive. But as we were eating dinner, I heard my dad catch himself while saying, “I just really wish you could have gone to Penn.” He didn’t mean to hurt me, but I know it was true. He’s been telling all his friends that his daughter is going to to go to Penn for almost two years. I couldn’t have done anything more to get me into Penn. Really, I am valedictorian of my 180 person hyper-competitive class, own a business, scored in the 99th percentile on the ACT, dedicated four years of my life to a charitable organization, ran a service club, earned national awards for Spanish and state awards for vocal music, and was the treasurer of my NHS, not to mention the fact that I’m a dual citizen to a country nobody’s even heard of and I’m a first generation college-bound student. I couldn’t have done more.
But, underclassmen, I survived Ivy Day. With two rejections and no acceptances, I survived. And I am going to attend an incredible university that I never would have found had I not been forced out of my “Penn bubble.” So I encourage you to fall in love. Fall in love with a school you never think you’ll get in. Apply. And let yourself feel sad if you don’t get in. But then remember that you have already achieved wonderful things, you are among the brightest (not to mention most ambitious) students in the nation. You have the incredible opportunity just to attend college, an opportunity that many people would do just about anything for. So love your college. It may not be part of an athletic conference that all crushes the spirits of 17-18 year olds on one day. But look outside of that athletic conference of eight, and find a college you love. And I promise, you will survive Ivy Day.
I have the sense that the nature of wildfire is not commonly known.
Tyrion’s brief education from the Alchemists probably puts him in the
99th percentile in the word for knowledge of how wildfire works. The
Alchemists don’t even understand it really, they are totally surprised
their spells start working better.
So I think Varys knows that
there is a lot of wildfire hanging around but he just says, “oh yeah,
left over from crazy old Aerys, better not touch that.” Same with Jamie.
He knows the wildfire is there, but since he’s under the impression
that an alchemist needs to light it for it to burn - and killed the all
the alchemists that knew about it- he doesn’t think it is an imminent
threat. It makes me think of the tragic city and factory fires of the
late 19th and early 20th century, so much loss of life that could’ve
been prevented by the safety measures of today that didn’t even occur to
the people of the time.
Anyway, when King’s Landing blows I think
it will demonstrate that Varys, master of knowing everything, gets
tunnel vision too. That the man who wanted nothing, who was slave to no
emotion, was exactly that. His own personal brand of
justice/prosperity/vengeance for Westeros doesn’t do Westeros any good
in the end. I think Varys sees himself as the opposite of Kevan, a bad
man serving a good cause. But the cause is really the same crap as
You know, this makes absolute sense. The question as to why Jaime hasn’t done anything all this time has bothered me for a while. But if both he and Varys don’t know wildfire can explode on its own, especially if it’s aged… wow. Yeah. Oh, this is going to add extra pain to Jaime’s failure, god.
And you’re also entirely correct about Varys. That’s one whose downfall is going to be so poetically ironic, in so many ways…
Stiles loves his job. Mostly. Like, maybe sixty-seven percent loves. For right out of college that’s pretty good, right? And among people working in the Chicago O’Hare airport he’s positive he’s in the 99th percentile of job enjoyment.
When all is said and done, he really does love putting the right book into the right hands. Especially when those hands are as attractive as the ones attached to Hot Businessman Derek Hale.
“For those of you who just transferred into this class or simply decided that day one wasn’t important enough to attend, I’m Professor Hale. Welcome to English 346, The American Novel.”
Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open right now and that his eyes are wide with shock, because holy fuck, he thinks he knows why his students transferred. Hell, if he was still an undergrad, he probably would have transferred, too.
Stiles Stilinski would call himself a starving artist except for the simple facts that he is neither starving, nor does he know anything about art (unless you consider a novelist an artist, which Stiles only does sometimes). So when his best friend insists he accompany him to a show in the city, Stiles thinks it will probably be the most boring evening of his life.
Stiles grew up working at the Renaissance Faire. It was where he felt like he could really be himself, where memories of his mother still walked around with him. Finally, at age 18, he’s an adult and the world of the Ren Faire opens up entirely new possibilities.
“Stiles breaks up with Derek on a Tuesday. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and he wants to get it done as soon as possible so he can go burrow into his self-hatred and stay there.”
And a very special shoutout to the fabulous allyasaveschristmas, CiaraWrites on AO3, who’s incredibly talented and writes the most amazing fics. You should definitely check her out because I’ve read all of her stuff in like one or two days!
-I don’t want them playing with girl toys. They are becoming young men and I don’t want them to change. I don’t want them to play with dolls.” (This is because they told her we have an Elsa and Rapunzel doll at home.)
-I picked up JJ and he’s gaining weight. You need to stop giving him juice and pop all the time. (They drink literally only water, and came to me with a 99th percentile BMI)
-Does that door have a child lock? That’s not safe (in response to ZZ opening his door a lot to ask when we were going home. As I stood in the COLD AS FUCK dark parking lot fielding her criticism.
Supervised visits apparently means supervised until she follows you out into the parking lot.
Like by all means, tell me how to do it. Because you were just killing it as a mom. As evidenced by the fact that I’m taking your kids home with me to keep them safe from you you psycho.