Arch Enemies

Readers,
 I have come to a profound conclusion. I have come to a supreme realization.  I have discovered a truth.
 This truth is that it is much better loving to hate someone than hating to love someone. I've spent too much of my grown man life hating how much I love someone. I haven''t spent enough time loving to hate an individual.
This truth came to me in the form of a man.

His name is Clint Abramson, and he represents all that is bad in the world, all that was bad in the world, and he represents all that will ever be bad in the world.

What initially started out as a small tiff in a game of basketball has evolved (or devolved, I suppose, if you are a pessimist) into an intense hatred for one another. The hatred that we have for one another has become gotten bad.

"How bad?" you ask.

Real bad.

I mean it's gotten to the point that we will not acknowledge one another's comments, presence, or right to exist on the same globe.

"Rom, that last GIF of the man throwing the baby did allow me to get an understanding of your intense hatred for the man, but why do you enjoy hating him? It sounds miserable."

Well reader, I am glad you asked that question. Having an arch nemesis is a unique thing and is hard for some people to understand. But let me do my best to try to explain why I love hating Clint.

Hating Clint Abramson has given me purpose in life. It has made the highs higher and the lows lower. It has made things infinitely more bitter and infinitely more sweet. Every Wednesday, I strap up my basketball shoes with an extra sense of excitement as look forward to proving to the world that I am a better basketball player than Clint.

When I play Yahtzee, I look forward to beating Clint, even though Clint isn't even playing.

(Look at how lame Clint's grandpa is at Yahtzee.)                                                           

 When I write poetry, I look forward to making sure that my poem is a thousand times better than Clint's.  

My poem 

Clint's poem

You know, I have a dream.

 That dream is that I will live on the same block as Clint Abramson for the rest of my life. I have a dream to teach my children to sabotage Clint's lawnmower and score better in school than his kids do. I have a dream to die directly after he takes his last breath. 

I just hope that I don't end up actually talking to this guy and realizing that he isn't half as bad as I made him out to be. That happened to my last arch nemesis, and all that I got out of the relationship is a Facebook friend who occasionally comments on my wall about sports stuff. 

Well readers,

Just in case you didn't get a good look image of Clint Abramson in your mind,  I Google imaged a couple of pictures of the man. Here they are.

Until Next time, 

Hate...

     Love, 

                ROJO 

Yoga Chicks

I don’t know if there is anything stranger than a chick that is really into Yoga. I am going to give it the old college try and describe the level of craziness that most chicks that do Yoga are in. I’ll admit that the first time I met one of these new aged calm and open minded dames I was fooled. The fact that she spoke with a soft tone, could contort her body into the shape of a pretzel, and was lathered in essential oils kind of threw me off. I guess I associated confidence with Yoga chicks.

I suppose I should of listened to Teddy Roosevelt’s advice “Keep calm and don’t try and date Yoga Chicks.”  Anyway, as time has gone on I have begun to realize that women that are really, really, really into yoga are really, really, really bat shiz crazy.

 The other night I was chatting up a girl who sat in front of me at my yoga class. She was attractive and seemingly normal and when I say normal I mean that she didn’t have a super high voice or an extra appendage. Throughout the beginning of the class I made eye contact with her a half a dozen times.

 Then, It came time for our warior one posses. I had my arms straight, my hands forward, and my legs in runners lunge position. I looked forward and noticed that the  that fly yogi right in front of me was doing the same yoga position with one exception.  Her hands clenched together in the shape of a gun. Slowly the yogi bent her upper body backwards, so much so that her head and upper body was facing me but were upside down. Meanwhile  her lower body faced the exact opposite direction.

 She then looked at me with her face upside down. She extended her hands in gun shape pose number two towards me and pretended to shoot me. The yogi smiled and gave me a wink and then went back to normal warrior one position.

Now if I have painted my encounter with this woman as something that is sexy, I apologize. Really all this woman needed to was to eject green vomit from her mouth for me to believe that she was in need of an excorcism. No body and I mean no body should ever look like that.

Anyway this is one of a handful of experiences that lead me to believe that Yoga chicks may not be as confident and edgy as they want you to believe. I think that when you attempt to flirt with a man you hardly know while your torso is going the exact opposite way that it should be, you may have a problem.  

What Grinds My Gears

You want to know what grinds my gears?

             When a girl you don’t like thinks you like them. There is nothing more frustrating in the entire world than trying to maintain a friendship with an female that thinks that you like them. It is a constant barrage of “you’re a really great guy, I’m glad we are friends.” And “I don’t think I could ever date you.”  I’ve even had girls sit me down and say “I’m not really interested in you” When I have had no interest in being in a relationship with them.

            What are you supposed to say when someone tells you that you don’t have a shot with them, when you haven’t been at all interested in taking a shot? I’ll tell you one thing you can’t do. You can’t get emotional and tell them you haven’t ever liked them, because then they just think that you are taking the breakup poorly. You can’t tell them that you are dating other people because then they think you are playing it cool. The only thing you can do is just sit there and let them finish their monologue on the subject of why you suck. 

You are subject to hearing things that are wrong with you when you really have no interest in hearing such a thing. There is no need for a woman you don’t like to tell you that you just aren’t her type, you don’t hold the door open for them, aren't serious enough, or that she is really just isn't looking for anything but friendship at the current moment.

            You just sit there and subject yourself to unwanted and unnecessary critique. I think it may be worse than a regular breakup.  I’m not sure though.

            I have been a victim of this for a very longtime . I remember taking  my friend out to my high school prom because I was too nervous about asking her best friend out. She made sure to tell me a half dozen times that we were just going as friends. I just sat through the “you’re a really great friend” speech taking it like a champ.

            As time has gone on, this problem hasn’t disappeared. I don’t know what it is, but it seems like every girl who's name of begins with a B that is a friend of mine has thought that I liked them, when I never have really liked them… well at least seriously liked them.

             The worst part about the whole endeavor is that at the end of it, I feel the need to make them like me. I feel like they have to start liking me so I can put them through the same crap that they put me through. It is an interesting experience. That much I do know.

Well readers….

I love you… but I don’t like you,

Rom

p.s. 

            Getting broken up with when you are not interested in a girl is almost as bad as when you are trying to work up the courage to talk to some chick at the airport only to have her snubbed out by a much more eager candidate claiming that he is an orthodontist. Not saying that this happened recently. Like right now, as I am typing this blog. 

Five Events Better Than the Creation of the LMU Teacher Credential Program.

          Well readers, 

Summer has come and gone. So to has my sanity, happiness, and well being in life.      

With this being stated, life is a lot better than last year. Really, life is a lot better. I think this is due to the fact that I have finally come to the conclusion that I am not solely responsible for my students horrible lives. In fact, I am one of the only people trying to make their lives better.

                With this in mind there are a few times throughout the week where life still blows. I mean its unavoidable when teaching special ed. I mean honestly, show me a teacher who is excited when he catches one of his children with their hands down their pants and I’ll show you a pedophile.  

                Anyway, readers there is one thing that I hate, more than anything in life. It is my master's program at LMU. I have compiled a couple of events throughout history that are better than the creation of such an evil program. 

                                                                     The Crusades.

Although thousands of innocent Muslims, Catholics, and Jews lost their lives in the countless crusades for Jerusalem, it still gave us Robin Hood and where would society be without Robin Hood?

The Hindenburg Disaster 

The narrator says "Oh the humanity" only once. I say it every time I am in class. 

This movie is really bad, but only hijacked an hour and a half of my life.

Hell 

It's provided a lot of fodder for artists and theologians throughout the years, unlike LMU. 

This Picture that my Student Drew About the Holocaust 

Sorry I'm not Sorry.

Dear Readers,
You may be wondering why I haven't written a blog post in a while. I've thought about why this is for a long while now. There is only one conclusion that I have come to. It is a simple one really. I am happy. I am happy with my life. I am satisfied with everything that is happening in my life, ---with the exception of attending Loyola Marymount University, which I will say should be eradicated from the face of this earth by a large typhoon, hurricane, earthquake, tornado, or fire. Really I cannot express how awful of a place this university is.---. But really besides this fact, I am happy with my life. For the first time since I can remember I am excited to be alive. I am grateful to God for each breath that I take and am thankful for this existence that we call life.
I was released from West Adams Prep in September. It was nothing that I did. The school enrollment fell and LAUSD told West Adams to get rid of one special education teacher. Luckily, I was the one. I left that hell hole and after a week stay as a teacher of the mentally retorted (which I plan on telling you guys about in another blog post) I landed a job as a resource specialist at the proud Legacy High School in Southgate.
The job is difficult, but in comparison to the hell that I had to go through on a daily basis at West Adams Prep, it is a freaking walk in the park. I do not enter my classroom fearing for my life and safety. I help children. I write IEP's and then I go home.
I'm not really dating anyone right now and I am not too concerned about doing so. I've gone on a few dates in the past few months. For instance, a couple of weeks ago I took out this girl who had curly dark hair. She looked like Julia Roberts, so I called her Afro Julia Roberts. I took another girl out who looks like a sexy cat, but for the most part I've just been hanging out with

This is a picture of me but with a beard and turtleneck.

and I am loving me time. 

Readers I am sorry that I haven't written to you. Actually I am not sorry, but I am sorry that I'm not sorry. 

Stop Abuse

It has been an exciting weekend. After the BYU Cougars' defeat of the Texas Longhorns, I decided that it would be in my best interest to purchase a ticket up to the BYU Utah game. Of course, I knew that the Cougs' chances of beating the Utes were slim- not because they are an inferior team, but because the Cougs just can’t seem to beat the Utes. I don’t know what it is.

As I was watching the destruction of the Cougars at the hands of the Utes, the following thought popped into my mind: my relationship with the BYU Cougars is like unto the relationship of a woman who has been abused by her husband/boyfriend. BYU football is the abuser in this relationship and I am the abused. 

Like many who have been abused in their lives, they justify staying in the relationship because of the small acts of kindness shown by the other spouse. These small acts can be in the form of a hug, a kiss, or a kind word. Whatever it is, the event occurs sparingly, and for all those looking from the outside it is never enough to justify what else happens in the relationship. On occasion the Cougars will show me a kind act, such as winning a meaningless bowl game, beating up on a sub-par Texas team, or even coming up with a cool slogan such as “Rise Up.” These acts are enough to invoke happiness for a moment. It is enough to give hope that the relationship will turn. But then without notice and certainly without reason or provocation, the BYU Cougars will go on a metaphorical bender and start bludgeoning me over the head with a toaster.

Following the beating I begin to have ridiculous thoughts. “It's my fault," I think to myself, "If I was just a more devoted fan the Cougars would never have lost.” Despite what my friends may say, I will continue in this forsaken relationship because I believe I can change the outcome of another person's actions.

When the beating is really bad, I try swearing off the Cougars forever.  But it's right around this time that they go out and buy me flowers (or beat an FBS team), somehow making up for their previous shortcoming.  At other times I try to punish the Cougs by vowing to not watch the next game or by refusing to wear school apparel.  But just like a neglectful partner, they simply ignore the punishment and continue living their life as if I don’t exist. The fact that they don’t care about me makes me like them more.

Deep down I hate the Cougars. I hate them for who they are and what they do to me. I hate them for all the pain they have put me through. I hate them for how much they hate me.  Most of all, I hate the fact that I love them.

So readers, I share this with you:

Once every 12 minutes a fan is abused by the BYU Cougars.

Please talk to your children and friends about not becoming a Cougar fan.

4 Ways of Changing the World

Hello and Greetings from South Central Los Angeles “Home of the Trojans and People Who’s Parents Probably Should Have Used One.”  I know what your thinking, “Rom, what the heck? Where has your blog been for the past six months?” I apologize to all of you for being unable to deliver, but I can promise you that it was because I was too busy. Now you may be asking yourself, “Busy…with what?” To which I would calmly answer “Saving lives… One student at a time.” So now you are probably thinking how selfish you are (as you should be), but I am forgiving. Instead of reprimanding you for attempting to prevent me from single handed closing the achievement gap and assuring that “One day…All students will receive access to a quality education.”  I will just tell you the top four ways my life has been changed by personally changing the way students learn.

Way #1: A deeper sense of belonging with My Teach for America team.  

You know teaching is a hard job. There would be some days when I wanted to give up. There were some days I wanted to stop trying to achieve the realistic and attainable vision of “One Day All Children Receiving an Equal Education.” But whenever that sense of discouragement got me down I knew one thing. The my support team would be there with a loving and concerned “Your not doing enough.” Or “I think you can do better than this.” Or even “You're gonna get fired.” I thank the TFA staff for never acknowledging the fact that I did anything right.  Just like the students that I serve, I believe that everyone needs to be told that they arn’t doing enough. Thank you for never allowing me to settle for any sense of self worth. 

Way #2 Scholastic Achievement.

When you first go into teaching you think that your students are going to be able to learn from you, but what I have learned is that the students have so much more to teach me then I ever could teach them. For instance,  I learned Spanish. “Pooto, Babosa, Pinnochi, Cuhelo, and Culo” are just a couple of the words that my students have taught me. Although I can't order anything off of the menu at a Mexican restaurants I know how to make a back alley drug deal.   

Way #3 Fernasco Gonsalves 

While there are many people that deserve a thank you for making this year, without a doubt, the greatest experience of my entire life, there is only one person that will receive direct praise. He will be given this praise for the intricate role he had in the joy of my life. I have always been told that when life gives you lemons you make lemonade, but Fernasco Gonsalves (name changed so I won't get sued) taught me that "when life gives you lemons, let a three hundred pound Guatemalan tackle you to the floor." Many people told me to look at the glass half full, but Fernasco taught me to break the glass and shank your teacher with one of the shards.  Whether it was the daily greeting of "F*ck you Mr. Evans you're the sh*ttiest teacher ever," a flash of a gang sign, or a shank with a paper clip, Fernasco Gonsalves knew how to really make a teacher feel loved.  

\

Actual 2 in 1 toothbrush and Shiv that Fernasco uses to brush his teeth 
and stab people 

Way #4 Intellectual Stimulation at Loyola Marymount University 

I have attended a great number of institutions in my day, but there has never been one so helpful, useful, promising, and influential the LMU Masters program in Special Education . Now, with a busy schedule of teaching 6 hrs a day, lesson planning three distinct and different lessons each day, writing 18 IEP (legal documents created for students with autism and emotional disturbance in my classroom)  you may be thinking that being a full time master student in a subject that you have never had any desire to be in would be almost unbearable. Well that would probably be true, were it not for the fact that I attended the greatest university and had the best professors on the planet. Whether it was senile professors talking about how they understand seven different languages or 50 year old professors who suffer from self inflicted facial paralja in a scanty and pathetic attempt to hide the fact that they are an over the hill divorced woman, I knew one thing. This something made the extra twelve hours a week that I spent sitting in a classroom worth it. I knew that every Monday and Wednesday spent at Loyola Marymount University would not be an absolute waste of life. I knew that these classes were not at worthwhile as watching paint dry on the side of a barn door. 

So readers that is what I have been up to. That is why I haven't been able to write as much as I wanted to. I've been too busy having fun and changing lives. When your life is going well, maybe when you have just flunked that test you have been wanting to flunk for so long, or maybe when your job is going a lot longer then you originally expected and you are super stoked about it, remember Rom's life is a lot better than yours. 

Stay sweet and try and change the world 

                                                                 Mr. E chillen with the homies in SDC

P.S.

Big Shout out to Brittany Koralewski for telling me to asking me to write in my blog again. No Brittany I don't think you're creepy for saying that I should write in my blog again. I actually found it super hot. 

Love Rom.