Teacher? Or Ticking Time Bomb?!

The other day, my little sister Mattie, who is five years old and started Kindergarten this fall, came to me with sincere worry about a little boy in her class. She says, "Today I got to be the hand sanitizer holder for my class and give everyone in line some. But, Hayley! There was this boy...and he wiped it all over his face and even in his hair! Why would he do that? He had to pull a clip. I would never wipe hand sanitizer in my hair!"

This made me stop and wonder...so I'm going to college for at least four years so I can clean hand sanitizer out of children's hair? Yes, that's about right!

I honestly think that you have to be a unique type of person to be able to teach children...or even to tolerate some children. I'm one of those rare people who actually WANTS a job at a daycare so I can be harassed by dirty little hands leaving fingerprints all over my jeans, snotted on, maybe even peed on or bitten on occasion. Call me crazy, but yes I want to get paid hardly nothing to teach children everyday, to see the look in their eyes when they have learned a new word or worked a terrifying math problem.

Maybe I was just born this way, being crazy and self-sacrificial to the little people around me, or maybe having my little sisters taught me the joy of watching and helping children grow and learn. I honestly believe that my little sisters have taught me more than I have taught them. By watching them ride their bike for the first time (a skill which I helped them learn, but am still not very good at myself...goes back to the saying "those who can't, teach :)) or read a new book, I learn that everything I set out to do can be accomplished.

Anywho, whatever the reason, in a few years I will be teaching children K thru 6th grade...and probably trying not to be a ticking time bomb.

Hayley

"To learn and never be filled, is wisdom; To teach and never be weary, is love." ~Anonymous

Don't Give Up on Me Yet.

Okay guys. I'm fairly new at this blogging thing and I'm sure my posts bore the life out of you. After you read my posts you probably have to go revive yourself with a number of guilty pleasures that each of us surely have, all of which experts swear will cause cancer. I hope my posts won't push you closer to this verdict. Please bear with me while I learn the ins and outs of good (and bad) blogging. It's gotta get better because it can't get any worse, right? I hope that's not what you were thinking. However, I wouldn't blame you. Just keep checking in. Don't kick me to the curb too quickly.

Pizza Face...Allergies are THE DEVIL!

I say pizza face like my face is completely horrid and I require a paper bag placed strategically over my head in order to venture out into public. This isn't really the case, but you must understand my point of view on this topic. I know...I'm going to get comments on my age and how I'm technically still a teenager so pimples are completely normal and hoo-blah, hoo-blah. Here's my thought on the subject. I went through puberty early. (If you cannot read this without squirming or anything unnecessary like that...please back away from my blog slowly.) I haven't had this many pimples in YEARS! See, what had happened was I went to stay with friends in Nashville for a weekend. They have cats. Two cats. One of them isn't a simple, normal cat either. It's a fluffy, long-haired beast. I'm very allergic to cats. I woke up everyday with swollen eyes and messed up breathing despite the number of allergy pills I consumed within a matter of about four days. I've now realized that my pimples could be an aftermath to my allergies while staying there. I asked WedMD just to be sure. It's a possibility.

One day, WebMD will send me a notification that I'm sure will word something like this:

"Miss Carney,
It is our duty to inform you that WebMD has terminated your access to our website (WebMD). This is due to the fact that you are clearly a hypochondriac and may need to seek some professional psychiatric help. In order to ensure the safety of you and others around you, we beg of you that you not try and access WebMD from any other IP address. That one will be blocked soon after.
Sincerely,
WebMD Administration"

When this day comes I will completely understand. I will not hold it against WebMD because I know all of the above information is true.

However, the pimples aren't as bad as I make them out to be. That hypochondriac statement wasn't exaggerated. I just had to get that out of my system.

~Hayley

Father's Day Story

Rage, it snuck up on me like a snake approaching its prey right before it completely consumes it. I knew this was my father sitting in front of me, for all eyes to see, but how much did he truly know me or how much did I know him? I know he contributed to half of my DNA, but after that at this moment I felt as if I knew nothing. Everyone was waiting for me to begin and the room was completely silent. I knew if I didn’t begin to speak at this moment I would never get my chance. I would run out and possibly never return to this hateful room filled with raw, intense emotions. As I spoke, the tears came, I knew they would. All around me I heard others begin to cry as they clung onto my words of hurt and pain. This pain I was describing it wasn’t only for me, but for my siblings too. When I began, there was no stopping me. For the first time in my entire life my father was forced to listen to me. I realized as I got up the nerve to look up, that he too had tears running down his cheeks. I told him of how much he had missed in his drug induced stupor over the years. I told him how even when he was under the same roof with me I felt like he was never truly there. Most importantly, I explained to him how much I wished he would be a real dad, not just a DNA contributor, to my little sisters. There was still time, I explained, to be a part of their lives. If only he could go through this rehab program and come out drug-free, he could be what he had just swore to me he wanted to be. I wanted to believe he was trying, but my entire being fought against it. How much can a person be let down before there is just no trust anymore?

I was sixteen at the time, and I felt completely alone in that room. I was, in fact, enduring what they call “family drug counseling”. It was meant to begin the mending process of relationships that had been destroyed by drugs, while a family member was overcoming their addiction. I wanted to be there for my father more than anything in the world. A part of me truly believed this would be over soon and that it would truly help.

I wrote this a while ago for my dad. It's unfinished and may never really truly come to a close. So many things have gone unanswered, but sometimes unanswered questions aren't always a bad thing. Maybe the most important questions are in the process of being answered? Happy Fathers Day Daddy! I will always love you, no matter what tomorrow may bring. Lord knows there's never a boring moment with you and I wouldn't have it any other way. :)

(As for the writing, feel free to tell me what you think everyone.)

The Grammar Nazi

My little cousin seemed to be having problems with some little girls cussing her via Formspring. She asked me what she should do and I replied, "Correct their grammar...do these kids have an English class? Nobody likes to made a fool of on the Internet." Needless to say, those girls were put in their place rather quickly. They should have used spell check :D

So, the day before yesterday I started reading the new Sookie Stackhouse novel a.k.a TrueBlood. The newest novel is "Dead in the Family" if you're interested in checking it out. I came across a quote Sookie made that I found rather amusing: "Grammar be damned." Now, this is taken out of context and probably shouldn't be explained here. If you ever get a chance to pick up a copy of the novel you will understand why. There are only a few instances when grammar can be tossed aside nonchalantly like an old blanket given up by a five year old child who has decided he/she no longer needs it as a comfort blanket. This is one of these rare occasions.

I believe "The Grammar Nazi" would be a perfect title for me.

Nothing Like the Tanning Bed to Get Those Creative Juices Flowing!

Yes, that's right. I went to the tanning bed today. Love me (or don't) with skin cancer and all. Funny story about that. At first I was afraid to even get into the tanning bed. I pictured it as a broiling coffin that would slam shut at any moment; Therefore, trapping me in to burn. I also kept having flashes of the scene from the movie Final Destination. I'm not sure if it was part 2 or 3? That's not what concerns me. The part that makes my skin crawl (my hot, broiling skin I may remind you) is that a girl gets trapped in the tanning bed and is eventually fried and roasted alive because of an electrical problem. I justify still going to the tanning bed with the hopes that I have not previously cheated death. If so, I should be safe correct? I'm hoping so as I lay there for an entire seven minutes and try to block out images from that gruesome movie. Anyhow, I didn't fry this time. I made it out completely unscathed. It was a success...until next time!

Why it's The Hayley Effect

The idea for my blog name came from Urbandictionary.com. It drives me crazy! Note to whoever wrote that definition: I am seriously offended! Why does Hayley have to be the stupid one? Huh?! I am NOT that person. Here's the exact definition:

1. Hayley Effect
The effect of losing the ability to spell after following a grammatically incorrect comment made by a friend. Therefore succumbing to the residual illiteracy that surrounds them.

Anyone who knows me will understand the irony of that definition. I despise people with incorrect grammar. I hate it when people misspell words when texting or on the Internet. I often correct people I'm close to and drive everyone around me crazy with it. I find myself correcting people I hear talking out in public. Thankfully, I have the ability to do this under my breath or silently to myself. Sometimes I even correct myself. The thought that somewhere out there someone believes I would be the cause of people's poor grammar pains me. I assure you I am working to correct poor grammar to the best of my abilities.

However, don't let my first post scare you away from my blog. I won't physically hurt you if you misspell something or make a grammatical error. I'll refrain myself :)

P.s. Please use spell check. Those little squiggly red and green lines on Microsoft Word actually mean something. ;)