What Is This TRUTH You Speak Of?

                                             7 Nov A Spattering Of Thoughts

        The plural retrogrades and spiritual upset have no patience for your cover up.

        Any cover up.

        Or for you and your deeply protected hatred.

        Examples are everywhere--as simple as not exactly hiding but not exactly revealing that you are applying to be a principal elsewhere.    

        And as big as Blue Texas.

        And everything inbetween.

        The hate that has surfaced over the last ten years, and been emboldened at Nazi levels the last two years is astounding. However, I'm not surprised. Which makes me sad.

        The reveal is that it is not an accident.

        These people are truly hateful. 

        The truth revealed is that they know, in their hearts, who they really are.

        Hiding behind cherry picked Bible verses or family pride, they thought they were safe.

        Nope.

        You're a racist. 

        I see you.

        Also a misogynist, abelist, homophobe, transphobe and Islamaphobe.

        So.

        Immma be still and let you figure out how to back out of the bright light of truth blaring in your face.

        Using Bible verses to yell about the midterms.

        Really?

        Talarico studied the Bible more deeply that you did, I promise. He can explain it to you if you'd stop screaming hate at him.

        Blaming everyone who didn't vote in the midterms for the blue wave.

        Excuse me?

        Non voters are how this happened, that's how we got here in the first place.

        Then they had no choice but to wake up and vote, buddy. You just don't like which direction they chose.

        The data points to an impressive upsurge in hispanic voters.

        Y'all thought they would vote for your team? When your team is openly attacking them?

        Screaming that Muslims are taking over. Friend, I will not even validate your stupidity with an answer. Look up the data and try again. The math does not math.

        Turn on something besides Fox news and catch up.

        And shut up. 

        We listened, we protested, we contacted our reps and we voted.

        We screamed in pain as Americans were gunned down and you made excuses.

        We stopped engaging in any conversations when it became clear you had either checked out entirely, or had no other response than hate.

        We did not storm the capitol.

        We did not murder representatives and their dogs.

        We didn't shoot Charlie Kirk.

        Those are crimes that sit squarely on your shoulders, and you have to wrestle with the truth of what actually happened.

        Your team voted "YES" on a Disastrous Bill that will defund every single struggling American, and openly poised the destruction button to be pushed after the midterms.

        Do not even pretend you had no idea.

        You did.

        You are hateful.

        You know it was you, and you know you and yours are stupid and will think it was us because of the detonation date.

        And we see you, and we will continue without you.

        Some of you will change. Many of you will not.

        The truth is difficult to face when you're generations deep in blaming everyone else for your bad fortune.

         Voters made this happen.

         Now it's on us to keep the foot on the gas and see to it that those we voted in are listening and responding to us.

         We want change.

         So change.

61 Years Are Too Many: Feels Like Two Weeks.

                                                         7 November 2026

        Just a reminder that two planets are still in retrograde, shit is still being revealed.

       And it's exhausting.

                                                        Midterms

       I could just not even acknowldge them, just babble about This Week At School, but I lived in Texas. My husband is a Texan. And I will never live there again---no matter the color. Hate Runs Deep in Texas. Houston was great because it was not "Texas". It was a city; it was diverse and people were educated, I was surrounded at the university by my own people and professors and artists. It is not truly Texas. 

       However, Houston did finally infect the entire state with its Liberal Trans Healthcare For All agenda. See, Californians and other businesses moved to Texas for their "liberal" tax laws. Businesses that include Space X. But the other business brought with them their children and moral compasses, so the voter demographic changed. Cause and Effect. Elon started gobbling up public land and raining debris on the beaches. And no matter how much money that soulless phony pumped into the election to keep his own Villain Back Story going, those with less money but a vote and a conscience prevailed. Yee Haw. Yipppeee Kay Ayyyy Mother Fucker.

    Oh ya, also, Red Hats are killing and detaining Mexican Americans at an alarming pace. That might have helped the blue wave.

     The red agenda is simply hate. People are over it. 

     Also do not hand Schumer or Jeffries the mic. We voted for change. Look up the definition. Do not just shift to men who clearly will pander to Trump when pushed.

                                                            Russell Brand

        I was a fan.

        I thought he was authentically funny and enjoyed his hubris laden podcast during Covid.  I have nothing more to say other than "Good On You UK", they do not hesitate with rape cases.         

                                                            The Renovation

        I am so tired of being right.

        In May we met to put performing arts events on the calendar for this year. We put nothing on it for the fall. 

        You wonder "kryssi, why didn't you put events on the calendar for the fall?"

        And I answer "Because this is not my first rodeo, and I clearly stated on 9 January 2026, 13 February 2026 and every day in the month of May that the theatre "Is Not Going To Open When They Say It Will."

        The principal balked at my experience, "The theatre will be open in September at the latest." For the 1,147th time I croaked to a room full of adults "It will be delayed. I've been here before, I know how these go."    

        Again, I was ignored and essentially bullied into putting what I knew were Fake Dates on the calendar: Collage on 16 October, a Halloween Cabaret, Quarter one band and choir concerts and a fall play 13,14 November.

        Then all the AP's quit and we have been assigned an Incompetent Suit From The District who seems to have a specific talent for buggering things up. She is exhausting.

        She looked at us in a meeting and wanted to know how we were doing Collage.

        We blinked.

        Ummm....we aren't?

        "It's on the calendar for the 13th of October."

        "That's not real. The theatre is sitll closed. We are not doing a band/choir/theatre performance in the gym."

        She got involved, changed the dates twice because of volleyball and misunderstood the depth of physical labor needed to dig out shells and risers from a theatre under renovation and move them to the gym. 

        The team did it, with kids and custodians, loudly and overtly visible to demonstrate her idiocy, and the grandstanding did not work. She just pulled the same thing for a middle school event, and is interferring with an invited performance at the capitol that she has now demanded TWO meetings to manage something the PA team had on lock after one email.

        Only PA teachers are reading between the lines and feel my frustration.

        She asked me last week where the fall play was being performed on November 13th.

        Did I mention it's 7 November and the theatre is still not finished. Not only that, but NOBODY seems to be in charge and I have no idea when I will be cleared for "safety" to go in and start cleaning and organizing. 

        But sure, dumb ass, ask me about the phantom fall play.

        Either my years teaching or biological years have me Not Taking Any Shit. I just looked at her. "What fall play?"

        "It's on the calendar for November 13."

        "And?"

        "And where are you doing it?"

        "We're not. The theatre is closed."

        "Well, what about the cafeteria... or the gym?"

        I walked away.

        I can't argue with stupid. 

        She was not in the calendar meeting. She did not ask back in August what the plan was should the theatre not reopen this fall. She has sat in our PLT meetings and listened to us update each other on Every Single Aspect of running a department without a functioning theatre.

        Did she think I was secretly rehearsing somewhere? Where would I build a set without her knowing? 

        Which brings me to...

                                    The Elevator Is Broken Again

        We have four floors and one elevator. It is intended for staff and MI/S (special ed) students, because their classrooms are on the second floor.

        I'll give you a minute to suss that out.

        Special needs students with mobility issues have been assigned to classrooms on the second floor. For years, apparently. Years.

        The elevator is old and in need of replacement, according to a source I will keep anonymous the reason it went down several times last year is because it needs replacing and nobody will pay to do it -according to my source. Last year I asked if they were waiting for it to collapse and kill someone, and my source sadly shrugged.

        I do not use the elevator.

        My temporary classroom is on the second floor. I use the stairs. 

        The elevator went down on Tuesday. It was down all week.

        All MI/S students were forced to adapt to classes in the cafeteria. Because...there is no other place for 20 kids and three wheelchairs. Well, four, one kid blew his knee out in gym. Four wheelchairs.

        Since these are my Peer to Peer theatre kids, I went down to attempt to assist. We can't "do" theatre when they are disregulated and distracted. I can barely function in  room 233 with them---I am not a good Sp/ed theatre teacher. I just love the kids. I'm doing the best that I can.

        The beautiful teachers brought down their wagon of games, so at least a break could be offered. So one day I played CandyLand with them for 80 minutes.

        Yesterday I schlepped them outside. No real "theatre" happened, just physical warmups and a "rehearsal" of the scene they are writing. But they were outside in the fresh air, and their teachers caught a break. That's all I could do.

        God Bless Special Ed Teachers.

        And why are the MI/S kids on the second floor in the first place? Even those who can walk have varying degrees of balance challenges and one is straight up afraid of stairs. I feel like I'm the crazy one asking this question again and again.

        This thread will get me off on a tangent about mainstreaming in the public school system, which I do NOT disagree with, it was simply done poorly due to underfunding like Everything Else The Government Does.

                                                    The Principal

        Also, apparently our principal is going to leave. She had her second interview with the superintendent yesterday. No attempt at secrecy has been made---he walked right into the building and to her office. Likewise, her name is on the list of finalists on the other school's website.

        However, nobody told the staff.

        Had I known that she's been going through the process for this job change since September, I would have understood why she is so checked out, and just moved on with my life. No wonder she has no Information about when the theatre is going to reopen; she doesn't care.

        So I got that going for me.

        Scene.

                           

        

    

61 Years Are Way Too Many During 2026 Halloween Week

                                                 1 Nov 2026

        Too many planets in retrograde, a spiritual storm like one right after the industrial revolution, the week before midterms, a full moon, a waxing moon, and Halloween?

        You gotta be kidding me.

        No, no you weren't kidding me. But I made it.

        Harper and Jim's birthday was Friday the 23rd.

        Waxing moon 25th.

        Full Moon the 26th.

         Full moon in Taurus 25/26 and the pinball effect. Everything lights up in your head.

        Neptune in Aries were last transiting 165 years ago. 

        Did I lose you?

        You knew I follow this stuff, you know it. I just feel like I can talk about it.

        You don't have to believe in it. You just have watch  or read any real news you can find --I recommend Ground News, 1440, Meidas Touch or Aaron Parnas. Even Rachel Maddow is real news. 

        We are in a very real convergence. It's not the apocolypse friends, it's not the end. As much as I would love an asteroid straight through my eye, we are not so lucky. It's a reboot.

        In other words: Ya done fucked up humans, so earth and spirit and God and Santa Claus and Mother Earth are gonna shake this planet like a snowglobe to reset it. So buckle up.

        In a desperate attempt to feel positive I hired someone to paint the dining room. It's now a mint that is overtly positive and vibrating. Yesterday, on Halloween day, Jim and I scrubbed and steamed the floor, took the china cabinet apart to clean it and washed everything in the cabinet. Literally thought it'd take three hours and it literally tool all day. Literally.

        Friday I was supposed to go to a district thing. I did not. My hand was the size of a baseball glove and I was completely exhausted. So I slept and went to the doctor. Dock me a sick day, I do not care. I needed sleep and antibiotics. While I was there I also scheduled a mammorgram, dropped off a poop sample and have been put on cholesterol meds. Which is hilarious because I hardly ever eat, how can my cholesterol be high?

        Thursday I woke up and when I petted Sock, she bit me. I mean bit. Not a cute little nip, this 100 year old demon sunk her fangs to the muscle. Poor girl, since I hand feed her turkey she thought I was food, and chose violence by biting the hand that feeds her.

        Thursday at 5 pm was Trunk or Treat. After allowing the kid I knew had measured incorrectly to put the puppet theatre on a dolly, walk it down the hall to the elevator and not have it fit in the elevator because he measured incorrectly, we settled into finding table decor and costumes. I knew he was wrong, he's almost always wrong, but I let them fail. Not everyone supports my approach, but in theatre it's important to fail and start over, it teaches problem solving. However, in this case, as this kid is specifically head strong, it is taking a minute to get through.

        The best part was everyone we encountered in the hall looking at me and saying "That won't fit". Dude. I know. He needs to learn. Aren't we all teachers here?

        The event was a huge success, even through a fire alarm. We suspect the Haunted Hallway used a fog machine. No evidence, just 24 years of experience with alarms going off during events---including during an ACT test---fog machines are frequently the culprit.

        My thespian president wore an inflatable chicken suit and danced the entire night. The kids had "fortunetelling" with prizes and "bean bag/cup" toss with prizes and candy. We had a line most of the night, but most of the games had lines---it was a shocking turn out. There are only 600 kids registered in the building, and we had at least a thousand people come through the gym. Our booth was next door to  Tri M, whose game of toss was way too complex for the kids. I thought ours was too easy, so I guess we evened out.

        I told the kids my swollen hand was rabies, which they did not find funny. Or they couldn't hear me over the music in the gym. Or they don't care.

        Thursday we also had to put up the cast list after Wednesday callbacks. That's a blog unto itself.

        Wednesday we had "callbacks" for four kids, three of whom bailed and no longer want to do the show. So we had to have a very real conversation about just cancelling the show. Which we clearly decided not to do since I told you we posted a cast list. You can't NOT put something up after the tax payers footed the bill for your theatre renovation. So the choir teacher contacted an alumni about singing the plant, and I roped a tech kid into playing Mushnik and we had a cast list. Eight person cast; three in choir, one former choir kid and four non singers. Two of them are doo wops.

        Ya gotta do what ya gotta do. 

        And this is my last show gotta doing what I gotta do--I'm done.    

        Monday and Tuesday the moon stirred issues with classes, kids are sick or late or pulled for testing or mental health. I have had it with my Intro, this week's assignment---to simply imitate the voice and posture of a famous person that they like---fell completely flat. So we're reading Fences next week and I'm scrambling for plays to read going forward.

        The Big Crash is understanding this department cannot be saved. It is not my fault, and someone else would advocate differently and perhaps have some luck.

        As stated at the beginning, I believe in signs and spirit and everything happens for a reason. I also know for a fact that none of those things have my best interest emotionally or financially in mind. I still have no idea why I wasted 18 years in Littleton. I saw clearly the intention of Hinkley and knew going in that it was temporary. 

        This one...I have no idea. I was not applying or looking for jobs. I had decided to retire at the end of the 2024/25 school year or at least stop teaching theatre. But I was not applying anywhere. I was not going to move a muscle---if God wanted me to do something, then I was going to be still and let him do it.

        Even if you do not read signs, you gotta admit Kennedy literally calling me out of the clear blue sky was at least wild, if not a legit sign.

        And even if you do not read signs, you gotta admit nothing suggests I was called to Kennedy to actually rebuild their program. There is no real support and the kids do not want a program.  As usual, it is likely something lame like impacting a kid's life.  A Single Kid. UGH. Exhausting. 

        You know me well enough to hear the sarcasm.

        I fully understand my job has never been to run, stitch back together or rebuild a theatre program.

        My job is to get kids excited.

        Or A kid. In this case, It's A Single Kid. I can even tell you which one. 

        That's what happens when everything hits retrograde: it's a reveal. 

        The truth comes out whether you like it or not. 

        Scene.

        

61 Years Are Too Many: Further Reflections on Bookstores and Drag Queens

                             25 October 2026

          After leaving the little purple house on 17th street, we toddled across the street to a bookstore. Which is new, because I was pretty sure it was Strings back in the day, but I am really dating myself. Maybe it was a small restaurant and pub. I wonder what happened?

        Anyway, it's now Denver Book Society---they opened last year---and it's fabulous. It's been years---years----since I've sat in a bookstore at a coffee bar and just chatted the afternoon away.

        The barista shared that she is a retired Big Deal from A Big Company Here In Colorado and works as a barista in the bookstore for funsies. Because, being A Big Deal retired from A Big Company, she has plenty of moohlah to pay her bills and have insurance. Good for her. I said "good for you" and then she told me her age...and I went silent.

        She's my age.

        A second employee---much younger, younger than my own children---works in the bookstore because she loves books and reading and talking to people about books and reading.

        Which is why she became a teacher.

        And then quit because the job as a high school lang arts teacher was not about talking to people about books and reading. So she quit.

        Because it was about proving she was teaching by tracking data points and attending biweekly meetings and being observed weekly and writing directives on the board so any adult could walk in and identify her lesson, but the kids Do Not Care--you know. They wanted control over every apsect of her curriculum. 

        Then she became a librarian in an elementary private school---hoping a change in content and age groups would heal her literary loving soul--and that the job would be her dream of talking to people about books and reading.

        It was not, and she left education entirely.

        Because it was about parents attacking her for the book titles and bullying her to stop recommending books to their kids. It was a horrible experience with entitled people who wanted to control every aspect of their child's intellectual growth.

        So now, she's poor but happy to be in a place where she can do what she loves.

        Steph and I just shrugged---Steph left teaching years ago and I'm still being held hostage---because we both get it. This person was probably a very good teacher. She was positive, open, enthusiastic---all things the education system stomps into submission within three years. Sigh. I'm glad she got out and I'm glad she's happy.

         It was wild to be in a neighborhood that is managing to hold on to both a drag house and a new bookstore. 

        It's not real "hope", it is a resurgence of what life was like when there was hope.

        Or something.

        Scene.

61 Years And Still Here: The End Of Kindness

                                                                 25 October 2026

       My former- and only--work wife took me out to drag brunch yesterday for my birthday

       She quit teaching after kid #2 because there was no way her salary was going to be relevant when she got pregnant with kid #3. She would literally only be working to pay for day care. 

        She was an amazing teacher, and this was a huge loss. But again, as we've learned from our current envioronment: Nobody Cares. So she had to quit to be a mom, so what. She's doing her sacred female duty.

       Because she is fortunate enough to be married to someone who makes good money, she peaced out and moved on to live her best life.

       To say I am insanely jealous is an understatement. Like saying "Weird Al is weird" is an understatment. Like saying "Selma Hayek is pretty" is an understatement. 

       Anyway, we did the brunch and then sat at a bookstore and had coffee, and I realized how deeply I regret remaining in teaching.

       Everything about her life since teaching is better. Everything.

       She has stories about traveling, about her kids, she still talks about Shakespeare and the Greeks and reads and loves her local library and knows her kids' school and district because she got involved.

        My kids went to school where I was teaching so they could have a ride.

        She paid for a very expensive day out, and then when I told her she was a great mom she said "You're very kind."

        No. I'm not. I never have been.

        What I am is honest.

        I have never been kind.

        I've been supoortive, lent a shoulder to cry on. 

        I've been vigilant, returned a wandering toddler to his apartment from the edge of the parking lot.

        I've been humane, ask any of the rescue animals who've lived in my house.

        I'll have to look up this line in my head...there is a quote "There's something hard in you, like biting on tin foil." That's how I've always imagined I am.

        AHHHH! Yes. It's the description of Larry Underwood. What's his name is walking with him on the beach trying to sober him up and get him to understand he's screwed up. Wayne. Larry doesn't think very clearly, or very well, even sober. But the idea that he's a survivor, he'll get through whatever is thrown, is obvious.

        That was a fun rabbit hole.

        Ok, side note, what is with this whiney white woman claiming the liberals are racist? What the fuck is going on? Jim has football on and I just heard the commercial.

        That was wild.

        But now I'm in Larry's headspace. Larry was a neurotic mess. When fame hit fast, he had no scaffolding or experience to deal with it. He did what many would do; he threw parties and did a lot of drugs. But he had this one good friend, Wayne, who even though he was annoyed to the tits with Larry, cared enough to pull him out and say "Dude, what the hell?' 

        Everyone thought Larry had it together. Even Wayne, who said "there's something in you that's like biting down on tin foil" he meant it as "you're better than this, and you'll land on your feet."

        Which is exhausting. Larry would have not made a single good choice if Wayne didn't care enought to say something, and he didn't ultimately respect Wayne enough to listen. And Wayne also helped clean up the mess, because that's what you do when you care.

        He wasn't kind. He was honest.

        I get this relationship.

        And I get Larry.

        And I have no idea if this is about Steph or not, but maybe it is. I was all flavors of angry when we met yesterday, I'm not doing well: I can't with the cruelty of the regime and nothing at my job is working smoothly. I need a space where nothing is on fire. Steph yelled at me about how lucky we are that we not just get to attend drag shows, but we enjoy them; we get them. "We" have the capacity to enjoy life, and "They" do not. They are rich and power hungry and  miserable.

        When I pivoted "Right, but they are in charge and we're the ones who will end up in camps and we're the ones suffering." 

        She wasn't having any. To be fair, she was two bottles into a bottomless belini, but she actually told me to shush.

        "We know how to be happy. We know how to celebrate and support this---" she gestured to the performers in the little purple house. "We're better. We'll win. Hold onto that." She may have called me an idiot or something in closing. She was not wrong.

        And so, all in all to sum up, I came home yesterday and realized I hadn't watched any Aaron Parnas or MidasTouch posts. And when I did, I only skimmed them because I have to believe she is correct.

        We win because we are open. We are not racist. We are not homophobic. We can see real fraud in real time, even when nobody else can (or will). We are creatives, we are human beings, we love art and bookstores and weird borderline junk shops. We rescue animals and raise our children and do The Best That We Can under the boot of a cruel regime.

        We vote.

        We do not cheat. 

        We are honest and believe in cause and effect, science is real and ever changing and the earth is being destroyed.

        And we can't stop any of it.

        But we can over pay for bellinis and mimosas and watch two drag queens own their lives, connect to their audience and allow us to choose Freddy Mercury as a diva even though he was a guy. 

        That was oddly specific and out of context. The show aligned with the DIVA exhibit at the museum. You can connect the dots.

        If you want to believe that white people are the ones being attacked, I can't help you.

        If you want to believe that your problems are caused by a small fraction of the population, and not the capitalist greed machine; I can't help you.

        And you don't want my help. So why am I screaming?

        I am not kind. I'm just awake. Female. A mother. A teacher. A creative. I have empathy for other humans, animals and the fate of the planet.

        But I am not kind. Never make that mistake. There is something in me that is like biting on tin foil. And if you push me, I will not fall over.

        Scene.