Riot Veggies

Click HERE to get your patch on.

 I have great news for  all of you vegan punk patch lovers out there. A good friend of mine has just opened up a new shop on Etsy called RiotVeggies. Everything is handmade and pretty darn adorable. As I said, it is a brand new shop so the selection is still limited, but you should definitely check it out. And make sure to visit the shop regularly to see new merch as soon as it hits the virtual shelves. Happy shopping!

Who Goes There?!

As many of you know, I have not been blogging very long and, because of my rather depressing schedule, often. Because of this, I still get a kick out of looking at my stats every week. One of the most interesting parts of this for me is seeing where my readers are from. As time goes on, “Life.Love.Latte.” gets more and more international readers. Some of the countries that produce viewers on a regular basis include:

• ·      Australia
• ·      Germany
• ·      Romania
• ·      Brazil
• ·      Russia
• ·      Canada
• ·      Spain
• ·      United Kingdom
• ·      Japan

 Now, I can assume that many of the readers from the United States are simply friends and social network followers (and, of course, my mother). I do not, however, know many people outside of the States. BUT I WOULD LIKE TO.

So, if you come across this blog, nationally or internationally, please leave a comment and let me know where you are from! Also, feel free to follow me on BlogLovin’ or Twitter! The follow buttons are all at the bottom of the homepage. I look forward to hearing from you!

How I Met Your Mother- For the Longest Time

Fool me twice, Leonardo DiCaprio...

Hey, Leonardo DiCaprio! We need to have a talk. Remember when you told me about global warming? You know, how we were destroying the planet and the polar ice caps were melting and blah blah blah. Well, I believed you— partially because of the massive heat wave we had last summer, partially because Leonardo DiCaprio is dreamy. This, however, is starting to get a little ridiculous.

Winter has been rather long here in the good ol’ Midwest this year, and it does not seem to be letting up. In fact, we are breaking records with the chill. So, naturally, I was happy for my friends and students when they ran off to their tropical islands and warm, sandy beaches for this week’s Spring Break holiday. Until last night.

Snow. We got snow. MORE SNOW. And not just any snow, a ton of it. 8” and more to come. Normally, I would be over the moon to have a snowstorm on a Sunday night. This means a snow day and I much wanted day off for yours truly. But I ask you, what is the point of  snow day when school is already canceled?!

So, here I sit. I am freezing, soggy, and no longer being a good sport. Not to mention I keep losing my poor little dog in the huge mounds of snow. Enough is enough, Old Man Winter. In case you have not noticed, it is nearly April. The jig is up.

On the bright side…it sure it pretty. Yesterday, when the snow was just beginning, I ran out with the Oz man to snap a few pics to share with all of you. I really should go out again, since today’s snow accumulation makes yesterday’s seem comical, but I simply can’t be bothered. So, for those of you in the Midwest, it is time (yet again) to bring out the snow boots and sleds. Spring isn’t here just yet. For those of you reading this while tanning yourself on the beach, I tell you to (fondly) sod off. Happy shoveling, everyone!

Brownies and Brits

After a rather long week, I am thrilled to have a night off. How am I choosing to celebrate? With brownies and The 2013 Brit Awards, of course! It's time for this Anglophile to kick her feet up and stuff her face. Happy weekending!

Bullying Is A Tricky Business

Jonah Mowry's 'Whats Goin On' video

The other day, in one of my education methodology courses, we were discussing the new laws being set in place against bullying. The discussion was especially interesting for us, as two students from our town had committed suicide in the last week due to bullying. Now, don’t get me wrong, I personally am a fan of the laws and the message they promote. However, I kept thinking about how confusing the idea of bullying is for some kids. It caused me to think about a realization I had after running into one of my old bullies from school. We think that those that hurt us do it completely on purpose. We think they will remember the hurt they inflict. Oddly enough, this is not always the case.
          

Indiana mom takes on bullying after daughter's suicide- courierpress.com

I grew up the “bastard” child of the North and the South. My mother and father were both Appalachian, having grown up in an impoverished mountain region of Alabama called Sand Mountain. I am to this day the only person in my family to not be born on the mountain. A good part of my childhood was spent on I-65, in frequent trips back and forth from Alabama to Indiana, sometimes for vacation, sometimes to live. Though I love my family, coming from a Southern home was not always easy. We moved around a lot when I was younger; Mama found it hard to settle, always looking for something a little better. Frequent moves meant I was always the new kid. While being the new kid isn’t easy for anyone, it didn’t help that I wasn’t the best at blending in. An awkward child, I grew faster than the rest of the girls at school, reaching 5’6’’ by the eighth grade and 5’9’’ by my sophomore year of high school. When you’re a girl, big is never a good thing. Adding to my ‘unique’ characteristics, I had acquired my parent’s Southern twang and a plethora of expressions that were normal in our household, but after constant teasing, I learned many of our expressions were a part of a Southern dialect foreign to the Midwest. I even ate different foods, constantly being asked what a “grit” was. After awhile, I just tried to avoid speaking altogether. Elementary school was a nightmare for me. I was different, and the girls never let me forget it. I blamed by Southern roots for my social failure, thinking it made me lesser than the girls at all the northern schools.  I worked hard to get rid of the accent that had plagued me throughout my youth, but it never made a difference. I was different, and that was enough to solidify my place at the bottom of the social food chain.

Now, I was never beat up, never humiliated in front of the entire lunchroom, and never shoved in a locker (partially, I am sure, because I would not have fit). This said, I was ostracized with the best of them.  The schools I went to were different, but they all had one thing in common—believing that I was so “uncool” that any contact with me would make everyone else uncool as well was, in fact, the cool thing to believe.  Yes, simply knowing I was a loser and avoiding me at all costs could boost your social standing. You’re welcome.

 I lived my life as a social pariah. In class, I sat alone. Hearing the phrase “pick a partner” was my worst nightmare. I spent recess sitting on the sidewalk, braiding blades of grass, listening to the other kids play. At lunch, I sat at a table alone, watching everyone else pack themselves into already full tables. Knowing that kids would rather not be able to set their trays down or find a chair rather than sit near you can really bring you down. My attendance was horrible because school was so miserable for me. Every year, I would find out exactly how many days I could miss without failing, and I missed them. I never ate breakfast in the mornings because my stomach was so tied in knots from the fear of what was ahead that I would be sick. For grades 1-5, this was my life.  Thankfully, in high school, we moved (yet again) to a school where things were different. I do not know why. I do not know how. All I know is, for the first time in my life, people said something more to me than, “Nice hat. Does your Mommy still pick out your clothes?” or,” Sorry. This is our table. You need to leave.” Slowly, but surely, the smiles turned to hellos, the hellos turned to friends, and the friends turned to a comfortable social standing (one free of name calling). After that, we stayed put for a while. I enjoyed high school, and learned to love myself. I was finally done with the bullies—or so I thought.

For more information on bullying and what you and your
state can do to make a difference, visit stopbullying.gov

One day, while walking through Kroger in my hometown, I heard someone yell, “Savannah Hoskins?” I turned around to see one of the girls who had been president of the Teasing Savannah Committee during elementary school. I froze. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to be anywhere but there, looking at the face that had haunted me for years. Then, suddenly, she was hugging me. I was dumbfounded. “Oh my gawd! How are yooou?” she sang. “I haven’t seen you in forever! How are things? I thought you moved? Are you in school? ” She continued to cheerfully shoot out questions, polite as she could be. I simply stood there awkwardly, slowly regressing into the scared little misfit that I had been so long ago. I answered her quietly with short answers, hoping it would be enough to make her leave. “Ugh, can you believe it has been so long? Where has the time gone? I hated elementary school. I always felt so insecure. Tiffany was soo mean back then! But I remember you were always so sweet.” My jaw dropped. I did not believe what I was hearing. Finally she said, “Well, I have to go. We are having a little get together down at the lake house tonight; I am just grabbing some supplies. Oh my gawd, you totally have to come! Here is my number!” She quickly jotted down seven digits on a Kleenex from her purse and shoved it in my hand. “I hope you come. It would be sooo gooooood to hang out. I love running into old friends!” And with that, she was gone. I couldn’t believe it. She had no recollection of the pain she had caused me, no idea that the mere knowledge that she and her friends would be at school was enough to make me sick with nerves every morning. In her mind, we were old school chums.

It was then that I realized that bullying is not black and white. Kids, for the most part, do not label themselves as bullies. When my own bully was putting me down and making my life miserable, she was only thinking of how it would make her look. It had never occurred to her that it was affecting me. The thing that really threw me was that my bully had had a bully! I remembered Tiffany as her best friend. She remembered her as the person who made her feel like, well, me. She had no idea that I had felt bullied, at least not seriously.

The idea of what bullying is differs for kids. I think that for most boys, they believe bullying is shoving people into lockers or beating them up after school. Girls think of it as publically humiliating someone or, these days, posting horrible things about them publically online. These things are easy to associate with bullying because they are grand gestures of hatred, reinforced by teenage movie scenes. We have all seen the movies I am talking about. The student walks into school, everyone staring at her and giggling. Next thing she knows, her face is plastered on posters across the school saying something rude and degrading. They run out of the room, crying hysterically, as the lunchroom breaks into laughter. This is all fine in the movies, but how often does bullying happen that openly? In the real world, if students posted cruel pictures of another student all over the school, there is a very good chance the people responsible are going to get caught and are going to get in trouble.

It is often the small things that make a huge impact. The things adults write off by saying, “Oh, you know how teenage girls are.” Most people do not associate ignoring someone as a form of bullying. It does not seem severe enough. Truth be told, I would feel inclined to say no as well. With my experience, however, I know that it is the ostracizing and little snide remarks that can erode self-esteem to the point of feeling like nothing. For most kids, bullying happens on a smaller scale (and without Hollywood camera’s and proper lighting). A smaller scale, however, does not mean it is any less hateful or has any less of an impact. If you ask a student if he believes he is a bully, nine times out of ten he is going to say no. Very few kids see themselves in that light. In addition, if a student does not think what they are doing is bullying, what is going to stop them? The trouble is, how do you discipline that? You can’t force kids to be friends. There is no golden answer that is going to put a stop to bullying. All we can do is try to make kids see how their actions have an effect on those around them, and try to watch out for them best we can. 

Hello. Welcome to the Real World. It is 5 am.

Why is it SOOO hard for me to wake up in the mornings? I have been slacking on my blogging lately because of some recent changes that have pretty much taken over my life and mind. In order to help pay for college, I have taken on a second job. It is not as bad as it sounds. I only work during the day and have almost all of my evenings free. With my second job, however, I end up only having one real day off. Let me start by saying that I love my new job. I am a Paraprofessional at one of the local middle schools. I work with special education students and, I have to admit, they make going to work every day completely worth it. However, it is very hard to remind oneself of how important it is that one do well at one’s new job, and just how worth it the kids make it, when the alarm clock is screeching in one’s ear at five in the morning.

I am not a morning person. Though I would rather work mornings so that my evenings are free, I have never been good at getting up. I am the girl who sets four different alarms the night before, knowing that I will push snooze on every single one.  Still, every day I get up at five (or, let’s be honest, 5:20). I get ready, have my coffee, fix my hair, put on my clothes, get in my car, and drive. I drive to my job. I go to class on my lunch break. I return to work. I put the students on the bus. And then, finally, I come home. I am still not in the habit of going to bed at 8 pm, as I should. I fight myself every night. My body begs me to crawl under the covers while my mind tells me it is not nearly late enough to sleep! But after I do finally rest my head, I sleep, and start all over the next day. My father loves to say, “Welcome to the real world.” I have always hated it. The tone of sarcasm and hauteur with which it is delivered always irritates me to the point of the uncontrolled eye-roll. However, real world or not, I only know one thing—I really want a nap.