On my ride home today, I came to grips with something that could ruin me forever.
I am a romantic. And not just in relationships. In everything. I have a romantic view of the world. I think anything and everything is possible, and believe all people have the potential to do great things. I think I was born in the wrong country. Perhaps that is why I felt so at home in France.
My romantic notions are odd when it comes to relationships, because I actually dislike typical romantic things, like opening doors or flowers. Don't get me wrong, those things are nice every once in a while, but I don't day dream about those things. I fantasize about my mysterious significant other showing up on my doorstep, unannounced, just because he wanted to see me. I dream about letters that just say things like "lima bean" or "monkey toes" being stuffed in my mailbox just because he/she knows I need to laugh at something at the end of the day. But most importantly, I want to be able to do those things for him/her, and not get a weird look when I do.
Really, it all comes back to boy #2. I want to leave him a CD, anonymously, and let him figure out who left it. After he does, I do not even care whether or not he wants to be in a relationship with me. I just want him back in my life. I do not understand why he is ignoring me? I haven't called him, and he hasn't called me. I just do not understand. It's stupid, naive, whatever.
I am just frustrated by not being able to find someone whose romantic tendencies match mine. And don't give me that "Boys aren't romantic like that" bullshmappy, because I know plenty of boys who do romantic things. Only most of those boys are my friends, and well, I am trying to stay away from that, dating of friends. I just want to know what a girl has to do to be treated the way she wants to be treated? Wait? Well, I'm impatient. Which really means most of this is my fault. Perhaps I should just accept defeat and move to the forest.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
I donut know the answer.
Oh, what a weekend. I love three day weekends. I acutally feel relaxed after a three day weekend, as opposed to regular weekends, where the minute I have a chance to breathe it is already Monday morning. There were some adventures this weekend, a few of which I will share. Right. About now.
On Saturday, Alexzeez and I decided we wanted to do something different. On a whim, we decided to check out the Huntington Park Fair which was occupying seven blocks of a major road right outside my school. It was a helluvafair, complete with multiple barfy rides, fortune tellers, live music and impossible-to-win fair games. Shmallie and I analyzed our options for fair treats, and settled on what I believe is the best fair food I have ever had. Now of course, there were things like hot dogs, churros, cotton candy and the like, but we were unimpressed. We wanted something special. And we found it.
Mini Donuts.
I'm not talkin' the mini donuts that come in a box. These were teeny tiny pieces of fried dough coated lightly with cinnamon sugar. Crispy on the outside, doughnutty on the inside. When it comes right down to it, they were perfect.
After we munched on the donuts, we walked around a bit more, and ran into a few of my students. Being 13 year-old boys, they of course were trying to burn stuff on the sidewalk. Naturally I put that down as soon as I saw it, but it made me feel a bit like a mom. Weird. They also asked if I could help them get back onto the rides, because they were kicked off for spitting off the ride. Hm.
After such an intellectually stimulating conversation, Ali-z and I decided to find a ride, particularly one that did not go upside down. A ferris wheel, we thought, would probably be safe. As far as we could see, there were two ferris wheels, one at either end of the fair. We assumed they were both the same. But you know what they say about assuming things. No one was in line for the ferris wheel closer to us, which we found odd. As we approached the ferris wheel, we began to realize that this was no ordinary ferris wheel. This was a crazy ferris wheel with cars that flip over, aka not adhering to our non-upsidedown requirement. So what did we do?
Yeah, we went on it anyways, stupidly. We were laughing very hard for about 20 seconds, and then we were ready to get off. But the thing kept going. And going. And then it reversed directions. And it went some more. Oy. Who comes up with the designs for these things, hm? What person in their right mind would devise such a torture device, surely aimed at causing regurgitation? Fortunately, neither of us saw the donuts again, but it did take us a minute to right our brains.
We didn't right them for too long though, because then we decided to go to Gabah for a little hip hop/reggatone (sp?). I love this new reggatone stuff, but that shit is hard to dance to. I was looking around, trying to see how people were negotiating the beat, and it looked like no one really knew what to do. I think I am going to have to consult my students on this one.
Last night topped the entire weekend off though, as Boy #4 stepped outside his comfort zone and came with me to Beat It (an 80s night). Alexis brought a kickass girl to the club too, so it was a nice little group of four. Usually this club night is at a place called the Ruby, which is just an "eh" venue. Because the organizers knew so many people had Monday off this week, they moved it to the Key Club instead, which was everything a hollywood club should be. It was two floors plus a balcony bar. Downstairs the DJ was working the crowd with an excellent mix of indie rock, while the 80s ruled the speakers in the main room upstairs. All four of us had drinks before, and the liquor just kept on flowin as the night went on.
There were so many points during the night when i just wanted to burst from happiness. Alexis was happy, his mystery girl was happy, Boy#4 was happy (i think) and it all just made me feel like my heart was too big for my body. Overjoyed is hardly strong enough to describe the feeling. My blood had just turned to pink lemonade, life was so sweet at that moment. And something shifted in me, I think, regarding boy #4. I realized that he does not have to fit all of my categories to make me happy. First and foremost, I make myself happy, no matter who I am with. This was something someone tried to explain to me a long time ago, but it never quite sunk in. But in terms of Boy#4, I am just happy to be me, with him. I am more myself with Boy #4 then I have ever been with anyone. Perhaps that is due to the unusual circumstances of our relationship, but whatever it is, I am grateful for it.
This morning, I told Boy#4 that I was sad that he was moving away from La La Land in a mere two months. He explained, very simply, that these things happen all the time, and they are supposed to happen.
His advice was this: People come into our lives for a reason. They come into our lives at a certain time, we learn from them, and then they leave at a certain time. And that is the way it is.
Although i don't generally like to think about people in such a functional manner, I can see his point, and it is somewhat comforting.
It's that whole 'everything happens for a reason' mantra so many people like to throw around. I don't know though, how many times do you have to get dicked over to find out what that magical reason is? I think that is just another instance of mankind trying to justify their existence. If there is a REASON for everything, then everything is fine, we don't have to freak out about everything. I am not sure I buy it.
On Saturday, Alexzeez and I decided we wanted to do something different. On a whim, we decided to check out the Huntington Park Fair which was occupying seven blocks of a major road right outside my school. It was a helluvafair, complete with multiple barfy rides, fortune tellers, live music and impossible-to-win fair games. Shmallie and I analyzed our options for fair treats, and settled on what I believe is the best fair food I have ever had. Now of course, there were things like hot dogs, churros, cotton candy and the like, but we were unimpressed. We wanted something special. And we found it.
Mini Donuts.
I'm not talkin' the mini donuts that come in a box. These were teeny tiny pieces of fried dough coated lightly with cinnamon sugar. Crispy on the outside, doughnutty on the inside. When it comes right down to it, they were perfect.
After we munched on the donuts, we walked around a bit more, and ran into a few of my students. Being 13 year-old boys, they of course were trying to burn stuff on the sidewalk. Naturally I put that down as soon as I saw it, but it made me feel a bit like a mom. Weird. They also asked if I could help them get back onto the rides, because they were kicked off for spitting off the ride. Hm.
After such an intellectually stimulating conversation, Ali-z and I decided to find a ride, particularly one that did not go upside down. A ferris wheel, we thought, would probably be safe. As far as we could see, there were two ferris wheels, one at either end of the fair. We assumed they were both the same. But you know what they say about assuming things. No one was in line for the ferris wheel closer to us, which we found odd. As we approached the ferris wheel, we began to realize that this was no ordinary ferris wheel. This was a crazy ferris wheel with cars that flip over, aka not adhering to our non-upsidedown requirement. So what did we do?
Yeah, we went on it anyways, stupidly. We were laughing very hard for about 20 seconds, and then we were ready to get off. But the thing kept going. And going. And then it reversed directions. And it went some more. Oy. Who comes up with the designs for these things, hm? What person in their right mind would devise such a torture device, surely aimed at causing regurgitation? Fortunately, neither of us saw the donuts again, but it did take us a minute to right our brains.
We didn't right them for too long though, because then we decided to go to Gabah for a little hip hop/reggatone (sp?). I love this new reggatone stuff, but that shit is hard to dance to. I was looking around, trying to see how people were negotiating the beat, and it looked like no one really knew what to do. I think I am going to have to consult my students on this one.
Last night topped the entire weekend off though, as Boy #4 stepped outside his comfort zone and came with me to Beat It (an 80s night). Alexis brought a kickass girl to the club too, so it was a nice little group of four. Usually this club night is at a place called the Ruby, which is just an "eh" venue. Because the organizers knew so many people had Monday off this week, they moved it to the Key Club instead, which was everything a hollywood club should be. It was two floors plus a balcony bar. Downstairs the DJ was working the crowd with an excellent mix of indie rock, while the 80s ruled the speakers in the main room upstairs. All four of us had drinks before, and the liquor just kept on flowin as the night went on.
There were so many points during the night when i just wanted to burst from happiness. Alexis was happy, his mystery girl was happy, Boy#4 was happy (i think) and it all just made me feel like my heart was too big for my body. Overjoyed is hardly strong enough to describe the feeling. My blood had just turned to pink lemonade, life was so sweet at that moment. And something shifted in me, I think, regarding boy #4. I realized that he does not have to fit all of my categories to make me happy. First and foremost, I make myself happy, no matter who I am with. This was something someone tried to explain to me a long time ago, but it never quite sunk in. But in terms of Boy#4, I am just happy to be me, with him. I am more myself with Boy #4 then I have ever been with anyone. Perhaps that is due to the unusual circumstances of our relationship, but whatever it is, I am grateful for it.
This morning, I told Boy#4 that I was sad that he was moving away from La La Land in a mere two months. He explained, very simply, that these things happen all the time, and they are supposed to happen.
His advice was this: People come into our lives for a reason. They come into our lives at a certain time, we learn from them, and then they leave at a certain time. And that is the way it is.
Although i don't generally like to think about people in such a functional manner, I can see his point, and it is somewhat comforting.
It's that whole 'everything happens for a reason' mantra so many people like to throw around. I don't know though, how many times do you have to get dicked over to find out what that magical reason is? I think that is just another instance of mankind trying to justify their existence. If there is a REASON for everything, then everything is fine, we don't have to freak out about everything. I am not sure I buy it.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Oops.
A few weeks ago, a very hot, indie-looking boy came into my classroom to do observations. I tried to stay professional, ignore his presence, and generally not act like a google-eyed girl with a crush. At the end of the observation, I "encouraged" him to come back to visit my other classes, and he was very enthusiastic about the prospect.
Last week, my department head told me he was coming back, but she did not tell me when.
So what happens this morning? Yep, he walked into my classroom just minutes before the first bell. I felt kind of bad because all I had on the agenda was a quiz and reading. Oh well. I guess it was OK though, because he said he was happy to see how we read and discussed literature. Then during nutrition, we sat in my room and talked. I played it cool (or at least thought I did), as we talked about Paris and teaching and music. Then. He mentioned. His. wife.
I must have looked like a squished tomato when he dropped that reference into the conversation. I felt so incredibly stupid. I have to pay more attention to those ring fingers.
Actually, he told me some crazy stories about his family and his wife's family, and we decided he needed to start writing his first short story collection. Stories of denied alcoholism, bulimia, crashed airplanes, life in a van on Hawaii, all came out as he spoke of the various members of his family. As my eyes grew wide with each new tale, he asked me if I had a normal family. Hardly, I said, but I don't have any ex-marines or scandalous uncles.
In the end, I stayed composed, and he said he wanted to come back again. Yay. I have a new friend, which is always good. Seriously, it's good. I hope to meet his wife too, she seems like a cool chick from his descriptions.
The whole thing made me realize how easily I jump at people who have the right look. If he had been clean cut, wearing a plaid, button down abercrombie shirt and khakis, I probably would not have given him a second look. And how superficial is that?
A while ago, I was having a conversation with a friend, we'll call him Toilet Paper, and he gave me some great advice. 'Amy,' he said. 'I think you and I fall into traps. We go after people in the scene, because we think, based on their look, that they will be what we expect them to be. You need to stop looking for people in the scene to date.'
And he is completely right. It's just really hard. The people in the 'scene' often like the same music as I do, read the same books I like, and are generally liberal. But they can also be very shallow, or just not the right person for me. So why force it? Boy #2 is so indie (whatever that means), it is almost painful. He is tragic, always tragic. He's a musician and an artist and reads like a fiend. But I still haven't heard from him, so he is over, gone, done.
Maybe this time for good.
Last week, my department head told me he was coming back, but she did not tell me when.
So what happens this morning? Yep, he walked into my classroom just minutes before the first bell. I felt kind of bad because all I had on the agenda was a quiz and reading. Oh well. I guess it was OK though, because he said he was happy to see how we read and discussed literature. Then during nutrition, we sat in my room and talked. I played it cool (or at least thought I did), as we talked about Paris and teaching and music. Then. He mentioned. His. wife.
I must have looked like a squished tomato when he dropped that reference into the conversation. I felt so incredibly stupid. I have to pay more attention to those ring fingers.
Actually, he told me some crazy stories about his family and his wife's family, and we decided he needed to start writing his first short story collection. Stories of denied alcoholism, bulimia, crashed airplanes, life in a van on Hawaii, all came out as he spoke of the various members of his family. As my eyes grew wide with each new tale, he asked me if I had a normal family. Hardly, I said, but I don't have any ex-marines or scandalous uncles.
In the end, I stayed composed, and he said he wanted to come back again. Yay. I have a new friend, which is always good. Seriously, it's good. I hope to meet his wife too, she seems like a cool chick from his descriptions.
The whole thing made me realize how easily I jump at people who have the right look. If he had been clean cut, wearing a plaid, button down abercrombie shirt and khakis, I probably would not have given him a second look. And how superficial is that?
A while ago, I was having a conversation with a friend, we'll call him Toilet Paper, and he gave me some great advice. 'Amy,' he said. 'I think you and I fall into traps. We go after people in the scene, because we think, based on their look, that they will be what we expect them to be. You need to stop looking for people in the scene to date.'
And he is completely right. It's just really hard. The people in the 'scene' often like the same music as I do, read the same books I like, and are generally liberal. But they can also be very shallow, or just not the right person for me. So why force it? Boy #2 is so indie (whatever that means), it is almost painful. He is tragic, always tragic. He's a musician and an artist and reads like a fiend. But I still haven't heard from him, so he is over, gone, done.
Maybe this time for good.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Full tilt
I think I will forever be a tourist when it comes to the beach. On Tuesday I went down to Hermosa Beach (yes, I was temporarily insane) to go running. I almost caused a major bike accident on the strand (the bike/run path for those of you NOT familiar with LA), because I could not tear my head away from the water. There is something that is eternally breathtaking about the ocean, no matter how many times I see it. I think it reminds me about how tiny I am. It clears my head, makes me think about all sides of the story. That kind of clarity does not come easily in a town where it takes you 25 minutes to get to the grocery store five blocks down.
I thought a lot about the state of the world, and the state of my relationships with people, both of which need to mend. Earlier that day, we had just finished training on ISIS, a computerized rollbook system which the district bought to make our lives easier (Stacey, this is an AWESOME opportunity for a story, you should check and see if your district is thinking about doing this). Eventually, all of the students records will be available through this system. While I appreciate the value of adopting this technology, it is also kind of frightening. It is still new, so they are experiencing a lot of problems with the system. People can easily hack into it, and therefore they are requiring that each teacher have a computer hard wired to the network as wireless networks are not secure enough. That's all fine and dandy, as long as you are: A) Not a P.E. teacher, B) The system does not go down, and C) Quick on the computer. I cannot wait to see what happens when we start using this program. I did a little research on the company behind the program, and it turns out they got their start by creating tracking programs for prisions and the welfare system. Lovely. Incidentally, the next day, two teachers who were thinking about resigning, turned in their resignation paperwork.
See? This is what I am talking about. Of course, people are always resistant to change, but this is ridiculous. This puts more stress on a group of already stressed out individuals. I think LAUSD should have made sure this was a solid program before spending millions of dollars on it.
Today (Thursday) I just about lost it with my 3rd period. They had an essay due today, which we had been working on for two weeks, and 30 percent of the students finished it. 30. Freaking. Percent. I mean, hell, it makes grading easier, but I am pissed that they did not finish it. For the most part, all of them had two rough drafts. They just couldn't muster up the effort to do a final freaking draft. I was so pissed. Instead of starting our book like we were supposed to, I had them write persuasive letters to me that included why they thought we should start reading the book, why Ms. Orringer should continue to put effort into the class, and why they should work hard and graduate.
Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:
"On my behalf, I am sorry. Sorry if i've given you a real hard time through out these past months. Deep inside I really do care about school, and making everyone proud, at times it gets really hard to deal with all of our bottled up emotions. It's hard to try and want to make something of yourself when you dont feel the support of your moms, brothers and sisters. How can you care? When no one else cares? I thank you the most ms. O. Through out my time here, I have only felt your support. No one else has encourage me the way you have. I have let you down as well as myself."
"I think we should start reading Monster, because we want to know what the book is about. Also, because the title of the book tells me that it is going to be cool. That it is going to have a lot of problems/conflicts. It is also going to have solutions."
"I want to do well and graduate so when I grow up and go to work I could be a doctor. I want to do well so i could become a doctor and maybe something else."
"First of all, Ms. Orringer, you should put up with this class and put an effort to it. Why? Because with no one teaching us in English is like not even having a teacher. In addition, students would get lost and would start getting what they want. Also, I'm pretty sure you wont want us to get our way so you should do an effort to help this class out."
There are more, but I won't make you read them all (yet). Of course, in my state of weakness after the period, I texted boy #4 for help. After a few texts, he came up with this:
me: It all seems so futile though.
boy#4: Quixotic, but the windmill tilters change the world.
Fucking genius. Who says that stuff? Even if everything ends tomorrow with boy #4, I am eternally grateful for that comment. And of course for the tofu stir fry he made me after the run on Tuesday.
(watch, here's a non sequitur! (that is the way you spell it, I checked twice))
I am so ready for the weekend. Three days. I don't even have any plans, which is wonderful, because it means sleep is in order. I kind of want to have a crazy night of dancing that involves some very good vodka martinis. Shopping, I believe, is also in order, as I have graduation presents to, um, exercise. Hopefully I can make that happen. As long as I am dreaming, I would also like to meet a very hot man that isn't going to make me all nervous and scared about being rejected. Brace yourself, I feel the subject of the next post coming on...
I thought a lot about the state of the world, and the state of my relationships with people, both of which need to mend. Earlier that day, we had just finished training on ISIS, a computerized rollbook system which the district bought to make our lives easier (Stacey, this is an AWESOME opportunity for a story, you should check and see if your district is thinking about doing this). Eventually, all of the students records will be available through this system. While I appreciate the value of adopting this technology, it is also kind of frightening. It is still new, so they are experiencing a lot of problems with the system. People can easily hack into it, and therefore they are requiring that each teacher have a computer hard wired to the network as wireless networks are not secure enough. That's all fine and dandy, as long as you are: A) Not a P.E. teacher, B) The system does not go down, and C) Quick on the computer. I cannot wait to see what happens when we start using this program. I did a little research on the company behind the program, and it turns out they got their start by creating tracking programs for prisions and the welfare system. Lovely. Incidentally, the next day, two teachers who were thinking about resigning, turned in their resignation paperwork.
See? This is what I am talking about. Of course, people are always resistant to change, but this is ridiculous. This puts more stress on a group of already stressed out individuals. I think LAUSD should have made sure this was a solid program before spending millions of dollars on it.
Today (Thursday) I just about lost it with my 3rd period. They had an essay due today, which we had been working on for two weeks, and 30 percent of the students finished it. 30. Freaking. Percent. I mean, hell, it makes grading easier, but I am pissed that they did not finish it. For the most part, all of them had two rough drafts. They just couldn't muster up the effort to do a final freaking draft. I was so pissed. Instead of starting our book like we were supposed to, I had them write persuasive letters to me that included why they thought we should start reading the book, why Ms. Orringer should continue to put effort into the class, and why they should work hard and graduate.
Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:
"On my behalf, I am sorry. Sorry if i've given you a real hard time through out these past months. Deep inside I really do care about school, and making everyone proud, at times it gets really hard to deal with all of our bottled up emotions. It's hard to try and want to make something of yourself when you dont feel the support of your moms, brothers and sisters. How can you care? When no one else cares? I thank you the most ms. O. Through out my time here, I have only felt your support. No one else has encourage me the way you have. I have let you down as well as myself."
"I think we should start reading Monster, because we want to know what the book is about. Also, because the title of the book tells me that it is going to be cool. That it is going to have a lot of problems/conflicts. It is also going to have solutions."
"I want to do well and graduate so when I grow up and go to work I could be a doctor. I want to do well so i could become a doctor and maybe something else."
"First of all, Ms. Orringer, you should put up with this class and put an effort to it. Why? Because with no one teaching us in English is like not even having a teacher. In addition, students would get lost and would start getting what they want. Also, I'm pretty sure you wont want us to get our way so you should do an effort to help this class out."
There are more, but I won't make you read them all (yet). Of course, in my state of weakness after the period, I texted boy #4 for help. After a few texts, he came up with this:
me: It all seems so futile though.
boy#4: Quixotic, but the windmill tilters change the world.
Fucking genius. Who says that stuff? Even if everything ends tomorrow with boy #4, I am eternally grateful for that comment. And of course for the tofu stir fry he made me after the run on Tuesday.
(watch, here's a non sequitur! (that is the way you spell it, I checked twice))
I am so ready for the weekend. Three days. I don't even have any plans, which is wonderful, because it means sleep is in order. I kind of want to have a crazy night of dancing that involves some very good vodka martinis. Shopping, I believe, is also in order, as I have graduation presents to, um, exercise. Hopefully I can make that happen. As long as I am dreaming, I would also like to meet a very hot man that isn't going to make me all nervous and scared about being rejected. Brace yourself, I feel the subject of the next post coming on...
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Foresight is an unreliable gift
When I was in Hungary with my sister, she told me something interesting about my family. It actually started out as a conversation about what I was going to do next year, and my application for the senate fellowship. I told her I had a really clear visions about getting an interview, but I could not see myself getting the job. She asked me if I had a lot of visions about career related stuff, and I said yes. She told me that she had similar visions about career stuff as well, and usually had daydreams that would come to fruition. That's weird, I thought, that we would share the same characteristic. I always thought that was just wishful thinking. Then she told me about our great aunt.
Our great aunt was a very special lady. She was the local palm reader, spirit medium and tarot card reader. From the stories my grandmother told, my sister said our great aunt was quite reliable in this area. She predicted my grandmother would survive the holocaust with her baby, and she did.
The point? I know it sounds ridiculous, but I think my sister and I somehow inhereted a tiny sliver of the foresight our great aunt possessed. Granted, I did not get the senate job, but when I interviewed for the LAUSD job, the events played out exactly as I pictured them in my head. I was disturbed when I did not get a call from them the day after the interview, because in my head, I could only see myself working for them. I could not see myself working in a classroom next year, of that I was certain. Not getting the job did not make sense in my head.
Unfortunately, this foresight is not always reliable, and does not transfer to all areas. People, for example. I have a hard time predicting how people are going to react to what I say. Like sometimes I will say something to someone, oh, I don't know, like "I really like spending time with you," and I think they will react positively. Only they don't. And maybe that is because it sounds stupid, because of COURSE I like spending time with people that I like. Perhaps it is a matter of getting the right words out at the right time.
But I can assure you, that has nothing to do with honesty. Open and honest, everybody says, is the way to be. That's crap. You can only be open and honest after you are deep into a relationship. The first few weeks, maybe few months, are all about games. Who has the power, who gains the power, who takes the power away, who starts first, finishes last, all of these are little games you have to play in order to get past them. Every time I try to be honest, it backfires. No amount of foresight can help that.
It might be one of those situations where I assume everything will end badly, and when it doesn't I will be pleasantly suprised. That philosophy, unfortunately, does not make living a very happy experience. I'd rather not adopt a self-defeating mantra.
Our great aunt was a very special lady. She was the local palm reader, spirit medium and tarot card reader. From the stories my grandmother told, my sister said our great aunt was quite reliable in this area. She predicted my grandmother would survive the holocaust with her baby, and she did.
The point? I know it sounds ridiculous, but I think my sister and I somehow inhereted a tiny sliver of the foresight our great aunt possessed. Granted, I did not get the senate job, but when I interviewed for the LAUSD job, the events played out exactly as I pictured them in my head. I was disturbed when I did not get a call from them the day after the interview, because in my head, I could only see myself working for them. I could not see myself working in a classroom next year, of that I was certain. Not getting the job did not make sense in my head.
Unfortunately, this foresight is not always reliable, and does not transfer to all areas. People, for example. I have a hard time predicting how people are going to react to what I say. Like sometimes I will say something to someone, oh, I don't know, like "I really like spending time with you," and I think they will react positively. Only they don't. And maybe that is because it sounds stupid, because of COURSE I like spending time with people that I like. Perhaps it is a matter of getting the right words out at the right time.
But I can assure you, that has nothing to do with honesty. Open and honest, everybody says, is the way to be. That's crap. You can only be open and honest after you are deep into a relationship. The first few weeks, maybe few months, are all about games. Who has the power, who gains the power, who takes the power away, who starts first, finishes last, all of these are little games you have to play in order to get past them. Every time I try to be honest, it backfires. No amount of foresight can help that.
It might be one of those situations where I assume everything will end badly, and when it doesn't I will be pleasantly suprised. That philosophy, unfortunately, does not make living a very happy experience. I'd rather not adopt a self-defeating mantra.
Monday, May 23, 2005
I am trying to break your heart...
Man, I just love to steal those song titles, don't I?
I feel like this one is particularly appropriate, for several reasons:
1. Clearly, Boy #2.
2. I keep screwing up with Boy #4. 'Don't worry about it,' he would say. 'It's not a big deal.' But I feel like a dick. Me. The chick in the relationship. I FEEL LIKE A DICK. I keep doing things to him that I would detest if the situation was reversed. I think it is a defense mechanism. Or revenge. Or sabotage. Perhaps I am purposefully trying to sabotage this situation because he is actually nice to me. Oh no, I can't be with a nice guy. Nice guys are too, well, nice. Oh, how utterly ridiculous. Why, as women, do we put ourselves in these situations? My friend, who shall remain nameless, consistently falls in love with guys who are mean to her. Not overtly mean, oh no, that would be too easy. They are subversively mean, which is ten times worse. These guys will say nice things, but then turn it around and make you feel inadequate. That is exactly what Boy #1 was. Subversively mean. The appearance of nice, but made me feel bad about myself in the process. Alishmandro could have told me that a while ago. I should have listened to him. He is the voice of reason.
Except that he (alexis) is moving to Long Beach, which seems unreasonable to me. Actually, it makes me overwhelmingly sad. I am glad he is doing what he wants to do, and I hope he finds what he is looking for down there. It might be kinda fun actually, because now we can pretend we have vacation homes in both places. Yay.
Anyway, back to Boy #4, because I am becoming somewhat nervous about the whole situation. I am starting to like spending time with him, which could be hazardous to whatever it is going on. I just can't help it. I get so excited when I see him, and it's not just because we have some hot shit going on. He's a talker, which as stacehlah knows is a good thing for me. He is passionate about what he does, wants to change the world. Still not my type? Maybe. I guess my best option is to go back to the lesson in the previous blog, which is to chill the fuck out and stay distant. Or distant-ish, because I haven't been doing such a good job with that distance thing lately. Maybe they have a pill for that. Preferably in chocolate form. With bananas might be nice.
I'll need it before tomorrow though, because I am driving down to his house after school. ;)
I feel like this one is particularly appropriate, for several reasons:
1. Clearly, Boy #2.
2. I keep screwing up with Boy #4. 'Don't worry about it,' he would say. 'It's not a big deal.' But I feel like a dick. Me. The chick in the relationship. I FEEL LIKE A DICK. I keep doing things to him that I would detest if the situation was reversed. I think it is a defense mechanism. Or revenge. Or sabotage. Perhaps I am purposefully trying to sabotage this situation because he is actually nice to me. Oh no, I can't be with a nice guy. Nice guys are too, well, nice. Oh, how utterly ridiculous. Why, as women, do we put ourselves in these situations? My friend, who shall remain nameless, consistently falls in love with guys who are mean to her. Not overtly mean, oh no, that would be too easy. They are subversively mean, which is ten times worse. These guys will say nice things, but then turn it around and make you feel inadequate. That is exactly what Boy #1 was. Subversively mean. The appearance of nice, but made me feel bad about myself in the process. Alishmandro could have told me that a while ago. I should have listened to him. He is the voice of reason.
Except that he (alexis) is moving to Long Beach, which seems unreasonable to me. Actually, it makes me overwhelmingly sad. I am glad he is doing what he wants to do, and I hope he finds what he is looking for down there. It might be kinda fun actually, because now we can pretend we have vacation homes in both places. Yay.
Anyway, back to Boy #4, because I am becoming somewhat nervous about the whole situation. I am starting to like spending time with him, which could be hazardous to whatever it is going on. I just can't help it. I get so excited when I see him, and it's not just because we have some hot shit going on. He's a talker, which as stacehlah knows is a good thing for me. He is passionate about what he does, wants to change the world. Still not my type? Maybe. I guess my best option is to go back to the lesson in the previous blog, which is to chill the fuck out and stay distant. Or distant-ish, because I haven't been doing such a good job with that distance thing lately. Maybe they have a pill for that. Preferably in chocolate form. With bananas might be nice.
I'll need it before tomorrow though, because I am driving down to his house after school. ;)
Friday, May 20, 2005
Oh, Potato Sacks!
So I've never really obsessed about "girly" things (except boys) like hair or toe rings. But right now, I am beyond pissed that my nail polish looks like it was applied by a octopus with arthritis. I just got my nails done last Sunday, and I am already aching for a bottle of remover. Arg.
Hm. I'm posting about my nails. I think this is getting out of control. I feel sorry for everyone who has to read this. But if you do, thanks for at least humoring me.
Anyway, onto more serious issues.
I got a little teary-eyed today as I was hanging out with my students. I skipped working on my conference period to go watch the leadership class facilitate the lunchtime activity. This particular lunchtime activity was called "The Granny Race," and involved a tire obstacle course, dress up items, and a backwards potato sack race. A winning combination, as you can guess. It was so fun to watch my little (Ok, they're not THAT little, but little enough) kids organize the rest of the students. As I was sitting on the edge of the quad, my students who were not participating just kept coming up to talk to me, and soon I had a little congregation of 10 students, just shootin the shit with me. There are literally no words I have to describe what I was feeling as I was talking to these kids. They are so smart and sooooo funny. I'll just give you a brief example:
We were talking about the "battles" the kids have, where instead of fighting, they "battle" each other by dancing. It is very big, very important. 'Battle!' I said. 'I want to see a battle!' Two of my male students (who happen to be more brilliant then I will ever be) got up and faced each other, trying to look serious. One broke into a little disco inferno and passed it to the other. The other came back at him with the ROBOT. The freaking ROBOT. I was dying, needless to say.
I love my students, so so much. I love teaching them (most of the time). I just cannot deal with all the external bullshit. The paperwork, the periodic assessments, testing, etc. I am beginning to realize that being a veteran teacher means you have mastered the art of ignoring all these things. But this brings me back to one thing: WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT? Filling out three thousand surveys is NOT going to help me serve my students better. Having to do grades for 100 plus students is NOT going to serve my students better. The goal of education reform is to increase student acheivement. Well, guess freaking what, if you want to increase this magical achievement, you better fucking take care of your teachers. Negative reinforcement usually has negative effects. But I know that is idealism, and no one wants to here that. I'm idealistic though, and I'm not, I don't care how many people tell me otherwise, going to give it up. Whew. Sorry. It makes me mad that I am so burnt out, because I feel like a pussy for leaving the profession. At least in my new job, I'll still be helping to fight the good fight.
Let's segue into more interesting topics.
Boy #4 came over again last night. It was both a freaking awesome and freaking weird experience. I never pegged myself as transparent, but I guess at times I can be. We talked about "types," and how he was not exactly mine. He was suprised that I had "typed" him already, and I guess I kind of felt bad about that. For the most part, he fits the part of a "dude." Yes, he is quite a man's man, which is very different than what I am used to. Sometimes it freaks me out a little, especially when he reacts to things in a particularly "dude-like" way. He was able to figure out what kind of guy I usually like immediately, and described boy #2 almost to the T. I like those quasi-emotional indie types who are hard to figure out, he said, are a little quiet in social settings but break out when it is just the two of us. My man has to be complicated and love music, maybe even play it. I can't remember what else Boy #4 said, but it was right on, which is kinda scary.
Boy #4 has developed his own category in my head, not even on the continuum that I usually work off of. He has created his own parallel line. Well now, how about that. A relationship that defies all laws of relationship/friendshipdom. This should be an interesting chapter.
Hm. I'm posting about my nails. I think this is getting out of control. I feel sorry for everyone who has to read this. But if you do, thanks for at least humoring me.
Anyway, onto more serious issues.
I got a little teary-eyed today as I was hanging out with my students. I skipped working on my conference period to go watch the leadership class facilitate the lunchtime activity. This particular lunchtime activity was called "The Granny Race," and involved a tire obstacle course, dress up items, and a backwards potato sack race. A winning combination, as you can guess. It was so fun to watch my little (Ok, they're not THAT little, but little enough) kids organize the rest of the students. As I was sitting on the edge of the quad, my students who were not participating just kept coming up to talk to me, and soon I had a little congregation of 10 students, just shootin the shit with me. There are literally no words I have to describe what I was feeling as I was talking to these kids. They are so smart and sooooo funny. I'll just give you a brief example:
We were talking about the "battles" the kids have, where instead of fighting, they "battle" each other by dancing. It is very big, very important. 'Battle!' I said. 'I want to see a battle!' Two of my male students (who happen to be more brilliant then I will ever be) got up and faced each other, trying to look serious. One broke into a little disco inferno and passed it to the other. The other came back at him with the ROBOT. The freaking ROBOT. I was dying, needless to say.
I love my students, so so much. I love teaching them (most of the time). I just cannot deal with all the external bullshit. The paperwork, the periodic assessments, testing, etc. I am beginning to realize that being a veteran teacher means you have mastered the art of ignoring all these things. But this brings me back to one thing: WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT? Filling out three thousand surveys is NOT going to help me serve my students better. Having to do grades for 100 plus students is NOT going to serve my students better. The goal of education reform is to increase student acheivement. Well, guess freaking what, if you want to increase this magical achievement, you better fucking take care of your teachers. Negative reinforcement usually has negative effects. But I know that is idealism, and no one wants to here that. I'm idealistic though, and I'm not, I don't care how many people tell me otherwise, going to give it up. Whew. Sorry. It makes me mad that I am so burnt out, because I feel like a pussy for leaving the profession. At least in my new job, I'll still be helping to fight the good fight.
Let's segue into more interesting topics.
Boy #4 came over again last night. It was both a freaking awesome and freaking weird experience. I never pegged myself as transparent, but I guess at times I can be. We talked about "types," and how he was not exactly mine. He was suprised that I had "typed" him already, and I guess I kind of felt bad about that. For the most part, he fits the part of a "dude." Yes, he is quite a man's man, which is very different than what I am used to. Sometimes it freaks me out a little, especially when he reacts to things in a particularly "dude-like" way. He was able to figure out what kind of guy I usually like immediately, and described boy #2 almost to the T. I like those quasi-emotional indie types who are hard to figure out, he said, are a little quiet in social settings but break out when it is just the two of us. My man has to be complicated and love music, maybe even play it. I can't remember what else Boy #4 said, but it was right on, which is kinda scary.
Boy #4 has developed his own category in my head, not even on the continuum that I usually work off of. He has created his own parallel line. Well now, how about that. A relationship that defies all laws of relationship/friendshipdom. This should be an interesting chapter.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
David Cross is my hero.
Check this out, you WILL laugh until you grow purple bumps on your toes.
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/features/artistlists/c/cross_david-05/
:)
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/features/artistlists/c/cross_david-05/
:)
Standardize this, bitch!
Spring is a wonderful time of year. Flowers are blooming, animals are having their babies, "like" is in the air. Only one thing screws up the whole pretty picture. Fucking. Standardized. Testing.
As I sit here, watching my students take these things, I have to quell the urge to rip up all the test books and have the students write I AM NOT STANDARD in big red letters all over their scantron sheets. These test are the biggest load of crap.
I was listening to NPR the other day, and they were talking about a report that said achievement has gone up since NCLB. OF COURSE achievement has gone up. EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER is getting tested, so they have a lot more data. It is really easy to improve from ZERO.
What really pisses me off is that none of the tests we take are aligned with one another. For example, as a Language Arts teacher in LAUSD, I have to give four (yep, that's 8 days of lost instructional time, plus one to grade the essay portion) periodic assessments. Granted, it makes planning easier to have set units, but the tests are not at all aligned with the state tests. NOWHERE on the periodic assessment did it say anything about teaching students to identify rhyme patterns in poetry (you know, aaabbca, etc.). But what is the first question? Of course, it was identify the rhyme pattern of a given poem. I wanted to throw myself out the window. The kids were frustrated, I was frustrated.
I believe in accountability, particularly in education. But this cannot be the best way to do it. It's like we keep floundering around, trying to apply different models to our education system. Now the new hot way to run a school district is to run it like a business. But what is our product? Is it measurable? The answer to that is no, not if the measuring instrument is a piece of crap. How do you measure development? How do you measure increased self-confidence, or a newly developed love of fiction? That's right smarty pants, you can't, but those things are infinitely more important than whether or not a kid in EIGHTH FUCKING GRADE can identify the rhyme scheme of an obscure poem.
As I sit here, watching my students take these things, I have to quell the urge to rip up all the test books and have the students write I AM NOT STANDARD in big red letters all over their scantron sheets. These test are the biggest load of crap.
I was listening to NPR the other day, and they were talking about a report that said achievement has gone up since NCLB. OF COURSE achievement has gone up. EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER is getting tested, so they have a lot more data. It is really easy to improve from ZERO.
What really pisses me off is that none of the tests we take are aligned with one another. For example, as a Language Arts teacher in LAUSD, I have to give four (yep, that's 8 days of lost instructional time, plus one to grade the essay portion) periodic assessments. Granted, it makes planning easier to have set units, but the tests are not at all aligned with the state tests. NOWHERE on the periodic assessment did it say anything about teaching students to identify rhyme patterns in poetry (you know, aaabbca, etc.). But what is the first question? Of course, it was identify the rhyme pattern of a given poem. I wanted to throw myself out the window. The kids were frustrated, I was frustrated.
I believe in accountability, particularly in education. But this cannot be the best way to do it. It's like we keep floundering around, trying to apply different models to our education system. Now the new hot way to run a school district is to run it like a business. But what is our product? Is it measurable? The answer to that is no, not if the measuring instrument is a piece of crap. How do you measure development? How do you measure increased self-confidence, or a newly developed love of fiction? That's right smarty pants, you can't, but those things are infinitely more important than whether or not a kid in EIGHTH FUCKING GRADE can identify the rhyme scheme of an obscure poem.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Everybody's gotta learn sometime
Whew. Two posts in one day. Howja like dem apples?
Not to steal the line from Mr. Beck Beckrockstarstein, but really, it sums up a lot of what I go through, every time I think about Boy #2. Because with him, I never learn. Every time, it's the same fucking thing. I fall for him, I stress about him not returning my affection, distance myself, become friends with him and then fall in love with him all over again. It's a vicious cycle. I think I am starting to understand Dorothy Parker on a whole new level now.
Boy #1 is totally out of the picture now. I'll probably see him here and there, but I have not thought about him much this week at all.
Boy #3 is great, his ex girlfriend has been showing him more affection, so he is happy. And I am happy for him. You know that feeling you get when you talk to someone who is genuinely happy? Its like the serenity in their voice drips into your ear and seeps into your brain. It's not until you hang up the phone that you are smiling like a gap tooth kid with a popsicle.
The news is, that there is now a Boy #4. I know, I know, what a ho bag. But really, I'm only hooking up with one of these boys, so it's fine. Anyway, this one is EXTREMELY low maintenence, which is nice. I don't need to stress over this one. The strange thing is that I find him incredibly sexy, and he is the complete opposite of the type of boy I am usually attracted to.
Sometimes though, with all of these sort of loose relationships, I feel kinda used. I know it takes two to tango, but sheeit dawg, why can't I get it right? It's like, as long as I don't try and have a romantic relationship, everything is fine. The minute that starts to happen, everything falls apart. And I really don't want a romantic relationship with anyone except Boy #2, and at this point, I am lucky to have any relationship with him at all.
Today, one of my students gave me this advice on life: When in doubt, poke it with a stick.
Poke poke poke. Hm. No response. I guess I haven't learned anything about love yet.
Not to steal the line from Mr. Beck Beckrockstarstein, but really, it sums up a lot of what I go through, every time I think about Boy #2. Because with him, I never learn. Every time, it's the same fucking thing. I fall for him, I stress about him not returning my affection, distance myself, become friends with him and then fall in love with him all over again. It's a vicious cycle. I think I am starting to understand Dorothy Parker on a whole new level now.
Boy #1 is totally out of the picture now. I'll probably see him here and there, but I have not thought about him much this week at all.
Boy #3 is great, his ex girlfriend has been showing him more affection, so he is happy. And I am happy for him. You know that feeling you get when you talk to someone who is genuinely happy? Its like the serenity in their voice drips into your ear and seeps into your brain. It's not until you hang up the phone that you are smiling like a gap tooth kid with a popsicle.
The news is, that there is now a Boy #4. I know, I know, what a ho bag. But really, I'm only hooking up with one of these boys, so it's fine. Anyway, this one is EXTREMELY low maintenence, which is nice. I don't need to stress over this one. The strange thing is that I find him incredibly sexy, and he is the complete opposite of the type of boy I am usually attracted to.
Sometimes though, with all of these sort of loose relationships, I feel kinda used. I know it takes two to tango, but sheeit dawg, why can't I get it right? It's like, as long as I don't try and have a romantic relationship, everything is fine. The minute that starts to happen, everything falls apart. And I really don't want a romantic relationship with anyone except Boy #2, and at this point, I am lucky to have any relationship with him at all.
Today, one of my students gave me this advice on life: When in doubt, poke it with a stick.
Poke poke poke. Hm. No response. I guess I haven't learned anything about love yet.
Watch out for black goo, P Funk
I'm not sure if it is against the laws of blogging to blog about something that happened before my previous post, but I'm gonna do it anyways. I harumph in the face of laws. Har-rumph!
Last Friday, a few friends and I headed down to the ever-magical and mystical Long Beach to see George Clinton and P-Funk. We were a bit skeptical of it at first because, as you may or may not know, these guys don't get together often. We were all very very excited. Kinda like chipmunks, but less fuzzy.
When we got to the club, the line was wrapped around the block in both directions, so we started to feel a little more confident about the band actually being there. As it was Friday, all of us were so tired from the week we decided we our first drink would have to be a redbull and vodka.
Once we got inside, we were sure this was going to be an excellent night. I believe one of my esteemed colleagues said the place looked like a Vegas-style place LA style, meaning the owners were too lazy to go all out with the swank. The silver sparkly curtains were enough for me though. With redbulls and vodka for everyone, we got the night started off right. I drank one, even though I think redbull looks like pee. For some reason, I felt like it was a good idea to keep drinking, despite the fact that I had a granola bar for dinner. People just kept handing me drinks. (If you are one of the people who handed me a drink, thank you, by the way. I hope one day I can do the same for you.)
P Funk managed to rope in about four cadrillion opening acts, so by the time they got on, I was thouroughly toasted. I'm talking wheat bread, on setting #7. You could have smeared me with butter and jam, and I would not have noticed. After the ??? song, I decided I had to sit down, so I worked my way out of the crowd towards the edge of the club.
Had it not been for one particularly heroic person, we'll call him Snappy, I probably would have passed out in a puddle of black goo on the floor. Snappy made sure I drank water, and even plopped down next to me on the floor (and got black goo on his hand) so I could pass out on his shoulder. I must have slept for at least 30 minutes, when Snappy asked me if I wanted to go to the car (or did I suggest it? I don't remember.). So we went, Snappy and me (aka Superdrunk Girl who made a complete ass out of herself) to the car so I could sleep and so Snappy could make sure I did not die.
And if you are raising your eyebrows at this point because I am stopping the story, you can put those bushy brows back down. (yeah, i just told you you have bushy brows, what are you going to do about it? huh? huh? Oh. Don't do that. I'm sorry.)
I didn't, which was good. And I didn't even barf. So there. Needless to say the evening was one I will not forget, even though parts are still a bit fuzzy.
Last Friday, a few friends and I headed down to the ever-magical and mystical Long Beach to see George Clinton and P-Funk. We were a bit skeptical of it at first because, as you may or may not know, these guys don't get together often. We were all very very excited. Kinda like chipmunks, but less fuzzy.
When we got to the club, the line was wrapped around the block in both directions, so we started to feel a little more confident about the band actually being there. As it was Friday, all of us were so tired from the week we decided we our first drink would have to be a redbull and vodka.
Once we got inside, we were sure this was going to be an excellent night. I believe one of my esteemed colleagues said the place looked like a Vegas-style place LA style, meaning the owners were too lazy to go all out with the swank. The silver sparkly curtains were enough for me though. With redbulls and vodka for everyone, we got the night started off right. I drank one, even though I think redbull looks like pee. For some reason, I felt like it was a good idea to keep drinking, despite the fact that I had a granola bar for dinner. People just kept handing me drinks. (If you are one of the people who handed me a drink, thank you, by the way. I hope one day I can do the same for you.)
P Funk managed to rope in about four cadrillion opening acts, so by the time they got on, I was thouroughly toasted. I'm talking wheat bread, on setting #7. You could have smeared me with butter and jam, and I would not have noticed. After the ??? song, I decided I had to sit down, so I worked my way out of the crowd towards the edge of the club.
Had it not been for one particularly heroic person, we'll call him Snappy, I probably would have passed out in a puddle of black goo on the floor. Snappy made sure I drank water, and even plopped down next to me on the floor (and got black goo on his hand) so I could pass out on his shoulder. I must have slept for at least 30 minutes, when Snappy asked me if I wanted to go to the car (or did I suggest it? I don't remember.). So we went, Snappy and me (aka Superdrunk Girl who made a complete ass out of herself) to the car so I could sleep and so Snappy could make sure I did not die.
And if you are raising your eyebrows at this point because I am stopping the story, you can put those bushy brows back down. (yeah, i just told you you have bushy brows, what are you going to do about it? huh? huh? Oh. Don't do that. I'm sorry.)
I didn't, which was good. And I didn't even barf. So there. Needless to say the evening was one I will not forget, even though parts are still a bit fuzzy.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Is it the man, or the idea of?
This just keeps getting worse and worse. The episode last night was ridiculous.
I planned on going to Revolution at the El Cid with my friend Jeff, and Boy #1 was supposed to meet us there. Jeff and I did not leave his house until after 11, as that particular club night seems to be a late starter. Much to our dismay, when we arrived, there was a line.
Boy #1 was just a few steps in front of us. I had a quick moment of panic, and almost booked it out of there. But no, he saw us, and came to say hello. I was shaking so much he asked me if I was ok. I even forgot to introduce Jeff. Fortunately, he detected my panic and introduced himself. We had a few awkward moments of silence, and then I remembered I had a voice again. Boy #1 brought me something from his travels, and Jeff suggested i go put it in the car while he waited in line. Again trying to stay cool, I walked with Boy #1, the whole time trying to figure out his agenda. I think I got the "just want to be friends" vibe out of him pretty quickly, but I wasn't completely convinced.
Unfortunately, when we got back to the club, Jeff was still in line. The stupids at the El Cid had overbooked the club that night, and they were at capacity. Feeling like a loser, I opted for leaving as I did not want to wait in line. My whole "I'm gonna show Boy #1 that I am doing fine without him" totally backfired. We opted for Bang, and Boy #1 bailed. He said he wasn't up for it.
At Bang, I was completely distracted. I had to know. What the hell. Was going. On. With Boy #1. Here are the text messages that ensued:
me: What are we going to do?
b1: This is almost as cryptic as your txt yesterday that just said "See."
me: what can I say? You make me tongue tied. I can't reason my way out of this one.
b1: I don't know what 2 say. I no longer think breaking up was a bad idea. And as tempted as I might be, I don't think its a good idea 2 hook up.
me: I agree
b1: Then why the txt?
me: Because its hard. I know you and I are not a match. But for 6 months I missed you, and it fucked me up. Its the history, I think.
b1: I'm sorry, Is there anything I can do? Unrelated: I forgot to say hi from Sandra. Are you still at bang?
And that was the end. I wanted to barf, and I was not even drunk. I am such an ideeeeot. There was no reason for me to act all needy. I have been fine, better than fine without him.
So OK, now what. On to better things. I've seen him, gotten over the initial shock, and it should be easier from here on out. Right?
I planned on going to Revolution at the El Cid with my friend Jeff, and Boy #1 was supposed to meet us there. Jeff and I did not leave his house until after 11, as that particular club night seems to be a late starter. Much to our dismay, when we arrived, there was a line.
Boy #1 was just a few steps in front of us. I had a quick moment of panic, and almost booked it out of there. But no, he saw us, and came to say hello. I was shaking so much he asked me if I was ok. I even forgot to introduce Jeff. Fortunately, he detected my panic and introduced himself. We had a few awkward moments of silence, and then I remembered I had a voice again. Boy #1 brought me something from his travels, and Jeff suggested i go put it in the car while he waited in line. Again trying to stay cool, I walked with Boy #1, the whole time trying to figure out his agenda. I think I got the "just want to be friends" vibe out of him pretty quickly, but I wasn't completely convinced.
Unfortunately, when we got back to the club, Jeff was still in line. The stupids at the El Cid had overbooked the club that night, and they were at capacity. Feeling like a loser, I opted for leaving as I did not want to wait in line. My whole "I'm gonna show Boy #1 that I am doing fine without him" totally backfired. We opted for Bang, and Boy #1 bailed. He said he wasn't up for it.
At Bang, I was completely distracted. I had to know. What the hell. Was going. On. With Boy #1. Here are the text messages that ensued:
me: What are we going to do?
b1: This is almost as cryptic as your txt yesterday that just said "See."
me: what can I say? You make me tongue tied. I can't reason my way out of this one.
b1: I don't know what 2 say. I no longer think breaking up was a bad idea. And as tempted as I might be, I don't think its a good idea 2 hook up.
me: I agree
b1: Then why the txt?
me: Because its hard. I know you and I are not a match. But for 6 months I missed you, and it fucked me up. Its the history, I think.
b1: I'm sorry, Is there anything I can do? Unrelated: I forgot to say hi from Sandra. Are you still at bang?
And that was the end. I wanted to barf, and I was not even drunk. I am such an ideeeeot. There was no reason for me to act all needy. I have been fine, better than fine without him.
So OK, now what. On to better things. I've seen him, gotten over the initial shock, and it should be easier from here on out. Right?
Friday, May 13, 2005
Dammit. I lost.
With all of these games I have been playing, I think I have lost.
My excellent roommate and I had a discussion last night, that made me think hard about how I spend my brainpower.
We were talking about the first year of teaching. How wrapped up in it we were, how it consumed our every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment. I would think about teaching in the car, in the shower, when we went out. It was not until 6 months into the first year that I began to think about other things, namely relationships.
Now it has become an obsession, as Alexis pointed out. It is unhealthy and it must stop at once. Sure, I still think about work a lot. But when I pull out of that parking lot, or have a slow minute, those thoughts are there, banging on my conscious. Lots of little evil voices in my head say things like "what are you going to do about it?" or "man, you are so lame, why the hell don't you have a freaking man/woman?" or my favorite, " why the hell hasn't he called?"
The problem is that the only conceivable solution is to be in a relationship where I don't have to wonder about those things. Now, don't get me wrong, I have no qualms about being alone. I have been alone my whole freaking life. I have never had a relationship, a functional one, that has lasted more than 6 months. I think I am getting impatient, and it is driving me nuts. Love is a funny thing, je suppose.
Boy #2 seems to have lost interest, and I think I was pressing the issue too hard when I called him last night. He did not respond to my text message about Saturday, and I was compelled to call him to see what was up. There was nothing in his voice. I have known this kid long enough to know when he is interested in someone, and when he is just trying to be friendly. I seemed to have slipped back down to friend status, and this time, I am going to make an effort to stay there.
Boy #1, well, who the fuck knows. I want to see him, badly, but I don't want to seem eager. I think he is getting tired of the runaround as well, and it is backfiring.
Boy #3. When you base a relationship purely on making out, well, the maintence is rather low. Things are all good here.
I keep thinking about doing something drastic, like showing up at #2's house tonight at 2am, and just confessing. Perhaps that is a side effect of living in LA. Every situation can be translated into a movie scene. Girl shows up at house in the pouring rain, makeup ruined, hair dripping, asks confused boy if she can come in. He says sure, she says he has to tell him, she cannot take it anymore. Boy's eyes sparkle, he knows what is coming, he has felt it for weeks. She confesses.
The Speilberg ending would have them waking up the next day.
My ending results in me staring at my blog, shaking my head at that stupid idea.
My excellent roommate and I had a discussion last night, that made me think hard about how I spend my brainpower.
We were talking about the first year of teaching. How wrapped up in it we were, how it consumed our every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment. I would think about teaching in the car, in the shower, when we went out. It was not until 6 months into the first year that I began to think about other things, namely relationships.
Now it has become an obsession, as Alexis pointed out. It is unhealthy and it must stop at once. Sure, I still think about work a lot. But when I pull out of that parking lot, or have a slow minute, those thoughts are there, banging on my conscious. Lots of little evil voices in my head say things like "what are you going to do about it?" or "man, you are so lame, why the hell don't you have a freaking man/woman?" or my favorite, " why the hell hasn't he called?"
The problem is that the only conceivable solution is to be in a relationship where I don't have to wonder about those things. Now, don't get me wrong, I have no qualms about being alone. I have been alone my whole freaking life. I have never had a relationship, a functional one, that has lasted more than 6 months. I think I am getting impatient, and it is driving me nuts. Love is a funny thing, je suppose.
Boy #2 seems to have lost interest, and I think I was pressing the issue too hard when I called him last night. He did not respond to my text message about Saturday, and I was compelled to call him to see what was up. There was nothing in his voice. I have known this kid long enough to know when he is interested in someone, and when he is just trying to be friendly. I seemed to have slipped back down to friend status, and this time, I am going to make an effort to stay there.
Boy #1, well, who the fuck knows. I want to see him, badly, but I don't want to seem eager. I think he is getting tired of the runaround as well, and it is backfiring.
Boy #3. When you base a relationship purely on making out, well, the maintence is rather low. Things are all good here.
I keep thinking about doing something drastic, like showing up at #2's house tonight at 2am, and just confessing. Perhaps that is a side effect of living in LA. Every situation can be translated into a movie scene. Girl shows up at house in the pouring rain, makeup ruined, hair dripping, asks confused boy if she can come in. He says sure, she says he has to tell him, she cannot take it anymore. Boy's eyes sparkle, he knows what is coming, he has felt it for weeks. She confesses.
The Speilberg ending would have them waking up the next day.
My ending results in me staring at my blog, shaking my head at that stupid idea.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
What's cooler than cool?
Oy.
So it has been five days since I last updated this thing. I am already falling behind. Bad bad self.
And so much has happened. I became a master. Of education that is, not really at anything else. It was a fun ceremony, because I got to sit next to the marvelous Maggie, and she cracked me up throughout the whole procedure. Our graduation speaker left us all speechless, because we could not quite figure out what he was trying to say. We did decipher however, that somewhere in his speech, he mentioned something about the Rolling Stones and the Highway Act of 1956 (or was it ’63?). Isn’t the connection obvious?
Well, it wasn’t to us, smartypants.
Right now, I feel like I am about to burst, because I am going in 30 different directions. I would like to smack that stupid part of me that said I could take on two jobs at once. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I just want to sleep.
As for the boys 1, 2 and 3, things are developing in weird ways.
I am still completely baffled by boy #2, although I feel like that situation is going to be resolved soon. I have been “playing it cool” with him, although it is taking a great amount of willpower to do so. We are supposed to hang out this weekend. I guess we’ll see.
Boy #1, ah boy oh boy. The ex-boy, ex-love. I think I am starting to understand why we broke up. At this point, I think we are both playing the same side of the “play it cool” game, because both of us kept coming up with excuses as to why we could not see each other. It’s not quite working to his advantage this time, because I am not playing the doting lady in the wings. I want him to come after me if he wants me, because that’s the way it should be, right? (Any advice here would be great)
Boy #3, yeah, still good to play with. Although he did get a call from his ex-girlfriend, saying she wanted to get back together with him. He hasn’t made any final decisions, but if I lose him to her, I will be happy for him. He was very happy with her before, and I am pro-happiness.
Alejandro the great says I need to stop fucking around with all these people, and find someone more my speed. I agree of course, but I do not think that person exists. That’s why I’m sticking to cats. ;)
So it has been five days since I last updated this thing. I am already falling behind. Bad bad self.
And so much has happened. I became a master. Of education that is, not really at anything else. It was a fun ceremony, because I got to sit next to the marvelous Maggie, and she cracked me up throughout the whole procedure. Our graduation speaker left us all speechless, because we could not quite figure out what he was trying to say. We did decipher however, that somewhere in his speech, he mentioned something about the Rolling Stones and the Highway Act of 1956 (or was it ’63?). Isn’t the connection obvious?
Well, it wasn’t to us, smartypants.
Right now, I feel like I am about to burst, because I am going in 30 different directions. I would like to smack that stupid part of me that said I could take on two jobs at once. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I just want to sleep.
As for the boys 1, 2 and 3, things are developing in weird ways.
I am still completely baffled by boy #2, although I feel like that situation is going to be resolved soon. I have been “playing it cool” with him, although it is taking a great amount of willpower to do so. We are supposed to hang out this weekend. I guess we’ll see.
Boy #1, ah boy oh boy. The ex-boy, ex-love. I think I am starting to understand why we broke up. At this point, I think we are both playing the same side of the “play it cool” game, because both of us kept coming up with excuses as to why we could not see each other. It’s not quite working to his advantage this time, because I am not playing the doting lady in the wings. I want him to come after me if he wants me, because that’s the way it should be, right? (Any advice here would be great)
Boy #3, yeah, still good to play with. Although he did get a call from his ex-girlfriend, saying she wanted to get back together with him. He hasn’t made any final decisions, but if I lose him to her, I will be happy for him. He was very happy with her before, and I am pro-happiness.
Alejandro the great says I need to stop fucking around with all these people, and find someone more my speed. I agree of course, but I do not think that person exists. That’s why I’m sticking to cats. ;)
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Me vs. Me
Hypothesis #2: Overexposure to hormonal teenagers results in the mimicking of teenage dramas in your own life.
Perhaps that is it.
Today, one of my brilliant colleagues said, “Amy, you cannot figure out matters of the heart with your brain. You have to figure them out with your heart.” Well, OK, I said, but what the hell does that mean?
If I left everything to my heart, I don’t think I would have any heart left. It would probably be a tiny shard of nothing after being broken so many times.
If I let my heart dictate my course of action right now, I would probably drive straight over to Boy #2 (the childhood friend) and confess my love. After that, since it is not too far away, I would likely drive to Boy #1’s house and say goodbye for good.
Another profound comment came from my roommate yesterday, as he was talking about one of his old mix CDs from a few years ago. “I wonder if the me then would like the me now,” he said.
In the current state of things, I think the me of sophomore year of college would probably get into a straight out brawl with the me of today. Sophomore Me would most likely call Now Me names like “Lame-o” or “Boyfriend Girl,” and remind the Now Me about our promise to never care so much about a boy/girl that it would distract us from being happy. Now Me would cower and admit her wrongdoings.
The fact is that I do want to chill out about this, I do want to forget about this, I do want to have the power to make it all go away. But no matter how hard I try, it just keeps getting worse. I get sick thinking about the moment when I see Boy #1 again. It angers me to think that he has the power now, as does Boy #2. And that is the most maddening thing; the loss of power. I should be able to dictate how I feel on a given day, and I know I can.
But not today.
Perhaps that is it.
Today, one of my brilliant colleagues said, “Amy, you cannot figure out matters of the heart with your brain. You have to figure them out with your heart.” Well, OK, I said, but what the hell does that mean?
If I left everything to my heart, I don’t think I would have any heart left. It would probably be a tiny shard of nothing after being broken so many times.
If I let my heart dictate my course of action right now, I would probably drive straight over to Boy #2 (the childhood friend) and confess my love. After that, since it is not too far away, I would likely drive to Boy #1’s house and say goodbye for good.
Another profound comment came from my roommate yesterday, as he was talking about one of his old mix CDs from a few years ago. “I wonder if the me then would like the me now,” he said.
In the current state of things, I think the me of sophomore year of college would probably get into a straight out brawl with the me of today. Sophomore Me would most likely call Now Me names like “Lame-o” or “Boyfriend Girl,” and remind the Now Me about our promise to never care so much about a boy/girl that it would distract us from being happy. Now Me would cower and admit her wrongdoings.
The fact is that I do want to chill out about this, I do want to forget about this, I do want to have the power to make it all go away. But no matter how hard I try, it just keeps getting worse. I get sick thinking about the moment when I see Boy #1 again. It angers me to think that he has the power now, as does Boy #2. And that is the most maddening thing; the loss of power. I should be able to dictate how I feel on a given day, and I know I can.
But not today.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Is it true?
Is it true that if one part of your life is going really well, the other part goes to shit? I wonder if anyone has done research on that. I think I would make a good case study. Hey, I could even publish the results on this blog. Yeah. This is almost like a prestigious medical magazine.
Stethoscope.
See? That was a medical word.
Hypothesis: All things being equal, if Ms. O's career is going well, her love life (ug, I hate that phrase).
Method: Watch that chick.
Results: Test subject employs herself in various tasks, including teaching small children, fighting for social justice and generally saving the world. In these professions, she does well enough to not harm anyone. A natural cause compelled the subject to seek other employment, which led her to another, more fulfilling career. Test subject is confident on the job, and enjoys working to improve her skills.
It seems as though we are watching an entirely different subject altogether as we examine her in romantic interactions. She seems to have three difficult situations plaguing her all at once:
1. Her former interest, to whom she is very much still attached, has returned after a six-month absence. She said she worked hard not to think about him during those months. She would reward herself mentally if she went several days without thinking about him. She even tried listing his bad qualities, so she could attempt to rationalize the situation. His return, although she has not seen him yet, is troubling her greatly. She has trouble figuring out how she can be so confident on the job, and yet such a "stupid" female in this situation.
2. She believes she is misinterpreting signs from another male whom she has feelings for. This male seems to call at extremely opportune times. She is afraid of pursuing this interest, despite advice from her peers.
3. She is feeling guilty about another male subject, whom she has no real feelings for. She says she "keeps this one around to play with." On multiple surveys, she indicated that sex/sexual acts are very important to her. She also noted that she was tired of having "loveless" physical contact.
Conclusion: Our recommendation to this woman is that she should "chill the fuck out." She is most likely blowing things out of proportion, a behavior typical of many females in her position. She welcomes any additional recommendations from other professionals.
Note: She promises to stop writing about this soon, as she is sure her audience is bored already.
Stethoscope.
See? That was a medical word.
Hypothesis: All things being equal, if Ms. O's career is going well, her love life (ug, I hate that phrase).
Method: Watch that chick.
Results: Test subject employs herself in various tasks, including teaching small children, fighting for social justice and generally saving the world. In these professions, she does well enough to not harm anyone. A natural cause compelled the subject to seek other employment, which led her to another, more fulfilling career. Test subject is confident on the job, and enjoys working to improve her skills.
It seems as though we are watching an entirely different subject altogether as we examine her in romantic interactions. She seems to have three difficult situations plaguing her all at once:
1. Her former interest, to whom she is very much still attached, has returned after a six-month absence. She said she worked hard not to think about him during those months. She would reward herself mentally if she went several days without thinking about him. She even tried listing his bad qualities, so she could attempt to rationalize the situation. His return, although she has not seen him yet, is troubling her greatly. She has trouble figuring out how she can be so confident on the job, and yet such a "stupid" female in this situation.
2. She believes she is misinterpreting signs from another male whom she has feelings for. This male seems to call at extremely opportune times. She is afraid of pursuing this interest, despite advice from her peers.
3. She is feeling guilty about another male subject, whom she has no real feelings for. She says she "keeps this one around to play with." On multiple surveys, she indicated that sex/sexual acts are very important to her. She also noted that she was tired of having "loveless" physical contact.
Conclusion: Our recommendation to this woman is that she should "chill the fuck out." She is most likely blowing things out of proportion, a behavior typical of many females in her position. She welcomes any additional recommendations from other professionals.
Note: She promises to stop writing about this soon, as she is sure her audience is bored already.
Monday, May 02, 2005
New New Year's Resolution
I tried to keep a blog in Europe, and I think did a pretty good job. That is, until I got to Hungary. It all went to shit in Budapest.
Oh well. This time, I'm really gonna do it. Seriously. Don't make that face.
I suppose I feel a little selfish doing this, like who the fuck would want to hear about the ups and downs of my life. I am hoping this will be theraputic during this time of extreme confusion. And maybe I'll magically become a better writer. Nah.
Things feel a little surreal right now, what with going back to teaching after two months of vacation, trying to do work for the job I will start July 1, my ex-boyfriend coming back from South America after six months, and one of my long-time friends getting ultra-weird around me.
It is great to be with my students again, I could hardly keep a straight mean face today when I saw them standing outside the door. (They aren't nearly as insane as your munchkins Mags, but hey, they're only in middle school). I am slightly stressed out by this new job though, because I cannot do my best at that job and teach at the same time. It's overwhelming. I hope they don't fire me before I start. Perhaps I need performance enhancers. Does viagra work for that too?
Speaking of performance, onto the mysterious boys in my life. Yes, the juicy part of the blog, the stuff I really need to get out. Ew. I'm not sure that came out right. Wait. Double Ew.
Anyway, ex has returned to the states, sans the mass email he said he would send before he returned. All I got was a mass invitation to the "supper club" he had formed before he left. I am wondering if he included me in that email by mistake, and possibly sent out another mass email to the group (minus me) announcing his return. I emailed him to ask him if he was really coming home this time (last time he said he was coming home, it was an April Fools Joke). He said yes, and asked if I was coming to dinner. I told him I wasn't sure, but asked if we could hang out later next week. I hope that is the right course of action. Am I in love with him still? Yes, perhaps, but I think that feeling intensified because he has been gone for so long.
Now this other mysterious friend, one of three people I have been in love with, is acting really strange. He is a strange kid to begin with, and has known me since I was just an awkward teenager fumbling around in Cleveland. A few weeks ago we had a, um, well "moment" after some sake. Logic took hold quickly and nothing happened, but the last time I saw him he was a bit jumpy. And now every time we are on the phone, he gets all nervous. I could be jumping to conclusions, which is entirely possible, since there is that little screaming part inside me hoping that it all does mean something. But then there's that pesky logic again. It says, 'oh for the love of green tomatoes amy, please find yourself a more stable partner.'
I say stability is for the eels.
Oh well. This time, I'm really gonna do it. Seriously. Don't make that face.
I suppose I feel a little selfish doing this, like who the fuck would want to hear about the ups and downs of my life. I am hoping this will be theraputic during this time of extreme confusion. And maybe I'll magically become a better writer. Nah.
Things feel a little surreal right now, what with going back to teaching after two months of vacation, trying to do work for the job I will start July 1, my ex-boyfriend coming back from South America after six months, and one of my long-time friends getting ultra-weird around me.
It is great to be with my students again, I could hardly keep a straight mean face today when I saw them standing outside the door. (They aren't nearly as insane as your munchkins Mags, but hey, they're only in middle school). I am slightly stressed out by this new job though, because I cannot do my best at that job and teach at the same time. It's overwhelming. I hope they don't fire me before I start. Perhaps I need performance enhancers. Does viagra work for that too?
Speaking of performance, onto the mysterious boys in my life. Yes, the juicy part of the blog, the stuff I really need to get out. Ew. I'm not sure that came out right. Wait. Double Ew.
Anyway, ex has returned to the states, sans the mass email he said he would send before he returned. All I got was a mass invitation to the "supper club" he had formed before he left. I am wondering if he included me in that email by mistake, and possibly sent out another mass email to the group (minus me) announcing his return. I emailed him to ask him if he was really coming home this time (last time he said he was coming home, it was an April Fools Joke). He said yes, and asked if I was coming to dinner. I told him I wasn't sure, but asked if we could hang out later next week. I hope that is the right course of action. Am I in love with him still? Yes, perhaps, but I think that feeling intensified because he has been gone for so long.
Now this other mysterious friend, one of three people I have been in love with, is acting really strange. He is a strange kid to begin with, and has known me since I was just an awkward teenager fumbling around in Cleveland. A few weeks ago we had a, um, well "moment" after some sake. Logic took hold quickly and nothing happened, but the last time I saw him he was a bit jumpy. And now every time we are on the phone, he gets all nervous. I could be jumping to conclusions, which is entirely possible, since there is that little screaming part inside me hoping that it all does mean something. But then there's that pesky logic again. It says, 'oh for the love of green tomatoes amy, please find yourself a more stable partner.'
I say stability is for the eels.
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