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How would you like to make a difference in the life of a public school students?
For the second year in a row, Six Apart is participating in the DonorsChoose.org Blogger Challenge. The challenge runs all throughout the month of October, and we'd love for you to participate along with us. Just as we did last year, Six Apart is sponsoring the award for the bloggers who reach the most kids.
The Blogger Challenge is a friendly contest amongst bloggers to raise money for low-income public schools. Here's how it works: teachers from all over the country post items for which they would like funding, such as writing supplies for a journalism class, equipment for a science lab, or music instruments for a band class. Bloggers choose their favorite projects and link to their challenge page in a post or via a giving widget on their blog. The bloggers who raise the most money or reach the most kids will win an award.
Here's how you can participate:
- Go to the Donors Choose Blogger Challenge page and find a blogger's giving list you'd like to support.
or
- Set up your own challenge and let your readers know in a blog post or by installing the widget (it just takes a few clicks).
No matter which way you choose to participate, you should feel incredibly proud of yourself for helping to bring resources to students in struggling classrooms.
Donors Choose will announce the results in early November, and we'll reveal the winners of the Six Apart award for bloggers who reached the most students shortly thereafter.
Are you going to accept the Blogger Challenge? Tell us about it (and link to it) in the comments!
So here is where me and my twin differ. My twin sis,OxygenGirl, recently wrote a post about how she went on an outdoor extravaganza with her boyfriend. I like the outdoors a lot. I enjoy being in the sun (although you'd think I was a vampire with my pale skin), playing in lakes, camping, hiking. My sis did this with her boytoy and they fished and hunted a little bit. His uncle said he's had some hogs making a mess of his property so he allowed Mr.Buck to shoot them if he saw any. So Buck and my sis climb on up into a feeder and he's waiting with his gun and no hogs are coming. You know, they are getting a little discouraged. Fair enough. Well Buck is not one to give up. No, he cups his hands around his mouth and lets out a hog call. Yes, a Hog Call. If that isn't red neck, I don't know what is.
The absurdity doesn't end there. Not only does this crazy gun-weilding cowboy call hogs...my sister is rather turned on by it.
My boyfriend likes to fish. Ok, that's cool. He likes to go dove-hunting. Ok. Sure, why not? I hate birds. I'd enjoy shooting them too. I wouldn't care if he hunted deer either. It's actually pretty tastey. But I draw the line there. I'm not about to go sit up in a feeder and call hogs. If he wants to do that, well you go on ahead, honey, but I'll stay home and make the moonshine and slaughter a few yard-birds to fry up and serve with taters and greens. And maybe after dinner, we can ride the tractor through town and go cow-tippin'. Then we'll go on home and strip them over-alls off you and we'll shot-gun some beer naked until we're three sheets to the wind, then we'll call up grandma and she'll shot gun some beer and then we'll all go wrestle alligators...
ok i'm done. I believe my point is made.
Dear annoying lady sitting next to me in the otherwise silent computer lab,
Have you noticed yet that it is perfectly quiet in here? You and I are the only ones in here and it is nice and quiet and my brain is absorbing some important information. Just like a sponge. You know what happens everytime you say something? Yeah. That sponge just gets the devil squeezed out of it and now I can't remember what I just read. It would be one thing if you answered an important phone call. I also wouldn't mind if a classmate of yours sat down and talked to you. However, that is not the case. No, ma'am, you are talking to yourself. Do you know what kind of people talk to themselves? Well, lets see. Theres crazy people, crazy homeless people, crazy old people, and crazy attention whore people. Now if you were just mumbling I wouldn't mind so much. Instead, I heard "When are they going to fix my door? These people never do anything right." Yes, that's verbatim. Let me ask you, do I know you? Do I care to know you? Do I care about your door? Do I know what you talking about? The answer is "no" and I figure you know this because you didn't address your little whiny complaints to me, you addressed them to your computer screen...who also doesn't care.
So, annoying lady sitting next to me in the otherwise silent computer lab, kindly keep your complaints to yourself because in all actuality, not many people care. In fact, there are always going to be those few people who are glad you are having a hard time. So stop whining out loud, to yourself, in a quiet computer lab.
Sincerely,
the grouchy blonde in frumpy scrubs studying for her 16 chapter exam
Have you ever felt sad because of the little things in life? Sometimes I feel this way. Sometimes, I am sadden just by the passing of time. So intangible. So fleeting. So helpless. There is nothing for you to hold onto. And there is nothing you can do to change this. Today will be tomorrow's yesterday, simply because of the passing of time. We won't have today after today. All the things that we want to do today but never got around to do would be too late tomorrow. And all the things we do or experience today will become tomorrow's memories. Just memories. That alone is enough to make me sad.
I'm convinced that my cat is a democrat, while my dog is a republican.
My cat is famously aloof, clearly an elitist. His interests seem to linger most on what I can do for him. He accepts the public till as his due, and in return provides his fuzzy good looks and the opportunity for a good cheek rub and scratch behind the ear. He doesn't seem concerned with who provides for him, gratitude being rather low on the feline priority list. He requires little organization, being able to lie with equal ability on any convenient surface. He values an independent viewpoint, and can be maddeningly stubborn when he disagrees with a particular course of events. He can attack viciously, retreat gracefully, and ignore criticism stoically.
My dog, on the other hand, values loyalty and continuity above all things. He is a creature of schedules and joyous optimism, eternally upbeat, grinning at the future while mouthing a bone. The pack mentality is clearly, for him, the superior existence. As long as he knows which place is his, and whose is ahead and behind, he is as happy as the proverbial clam. He can, at times, be inappropriately fierce, but also extremely solicitous to the hand that feeds him.
And yet it may not be quite so simple. My wife has pointed out to me that the dog often helps the cat, insisting that we open the door for his thumbless brother. The cat, in turn, has cajoled the dog to prod one or the other of the family into performing some service or another. They clearly have an arrangement that I don't understand, an arrangement that exploits the public coffers, i.e. me, while maximizing the benefit to the animal constituency.
Today was a good day.
After work, which was spent daydreaming of things to come, I came home and spent some time with my dogs.
Cheeyo went buckwild running through the backyard. I sat down with Paris, trying to keep her from being too active.
Somewhere within that fifteen minute time frame, I was bitten by mosquitoes. I hate the fucking south for its bugs. My right ring finger stung; I could feel my pulse in it, and it really hurt for a little while.
Ron came home and we spent some time together, and eventually I forgot about my finger, which is fine now.
We went by Walmart, which is always a mistake on a Saturday. Then to the mall, to shop at Hollister and Victoria's Secret. It occurred to me how much I've just superficially changed. Stockton Jamie loved American Eagle jeans [size 12-14], Memphis Jamie now loves Hollister's jeans [size 9-11]. S.J. once wore a 38 B; MJ now fits into a 36 D. I also loved Gap, but now drift towards Old Navy and Target. Sophore years I had bleached blonde hair, most recently I've dyed my hair black, which I'm not too keen on, but that's not the point.
It's amazing to think about how many different levels of changes have occured. Not just the mental and emotional growth, but different developing tastes.
You know, it also recently occurred to me that I do not take compliments well. If at all. A compliment given to me is received with a reason that denies it.
I guess as a child when you're told you're ugly and that extends well into high school, a notion of unworthiness is difficult from which to move on.
You would think after all these years I would feel differently about myself; about my mind and thought processes; and body. And yet, I still find that I do not feel I am worthy of any type of praise. Humble to a fault is the best way to describe me.
I just feel ugly. I always feel like there is something wrong with me. I mean, no one is perfect, but I've never liked myself. I guess this is why I have a hard time believing that anyone could appreciate me for who I am... I don't even appreciate me.
Which is a shame, because somewhere deep inside I know I am a great person. I know I am a worthy person.
HELLO 16 CHAPTER EXAM!
thanks, Prof.. Thanks a lot.
I got to my micro lab early this morning to take all my special babies out of the incubator!
First, I have Staph. aureus and Staph. epi. S.epi is hot pink and fabulous while S. aureus is sporting a bright and happy shade of yellow because it ferments mannitol and the agar these babies are growing on just happens to be Mannitol Salt Agar!
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