(no subject)

It's only in the last week and a half that I've been able to admit we really need a security guard; and also, that I will be burnt out by yesterday if we don't get one. So we may be getting one.

I have had hours that were nothing but--"You, no food and drink; you, find a seat; you, you're not allowed to access MySpace; no, not a seat on the floor; no, you can't have a quarter; no, don't lick the ink...." And that's a job I suck at.

The T-shirt transformation program went beautifully by comparison. We did some sewing and some puff paint and some sequins and stickers. But it makes me sad, and angry, the way pre-teen girls talk about themselves. I think that a lot of the "Yay self-esteem!" stuff is too facile and simplistic, but I wish that they knew how awesome they are. And I try to tell them so.