It took me exactly eight hours to clean my classroom yesterday. Eight hours to clean up two years of work. Eight hours, to remove every trace of my being from a place where I cried with my students as they shared their personal narratives, a place where I begged students not to give up on themselves, a place that taught me about the world and myself. I gave away everything, which is generally painful for a pack-rat like me. My classroom library was mostly distributed amongst three new teachers, along with all my files, posters and other teachery items I accumulated. I managed to fit the things I wanted to keep down to three crates, two plastic boxes, and one laundry basket.
It is funny how your senses become heightened when you are at a turning point in your life. After I had loaded the last box into my car and turned in my pink sign-out sheet, I just began wandering around the school. If anyone asked, I had a purpose; I was looking for one of the plant managers to ask him if I could borrow a rolly trashcan to throw out the buffalo-sized bag of trash that was consuming the middle of my room. But even as I was walking around, I realized that was silly -- I didn't even have the keys at that point, and I had no real intention of entering that room again. I just wanted to see the place, as an insider, one last time. So I walked around, and smelled everything. I archived the smell of the disenfectant they use to clean the floors. The faint smell of the rosebushes that surround the small parking lot. That weird, indescribable smell of the hallway, it just smells like school. And I listened to the defeaning silence of the school, and the quiet buzz of the people who were finishing up for the day. I watched the pidgeons fight over a forgotten piece of bread, and coo in contempt after losing ground. I looked for a long time at the way the blue and white buildings cut into the clear blue sky.
And I guess when I walked out, and got into my car, I expected it all to stop, because for me, this was it. This was the end of teaching, the end of being a part of the community, the end of my first real job. I drove away, feeling like I just broke up with somebody. I was, and am still, heartbroken. Not because I want to go back to teaching, but just because it is no longer a part of my reality. I think I am afraid to fail, or afraid I am making the wrong decision. I think I stayed after, walking around, because I expected some internal neon sign to start blinking and screaming, 'you're doing the right thing! run! run now!'
I do feel like I am doing the right thing, but internally, I am only 90 percent convinced. How that other 10 percent is going to be converted is beyond me right now.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On a completely different note, Boy #4 will no longer appear in the blog. Too many people know who he is, and for the first time that I know of, someone gave him shit about it the other day. When boy #4 tried to play it off, the person said, 'guess you don't really like having your personal life broadcasted, huh?' (or something to that affect). I'm kind of pissed about that, but I guess it is inevitable with things like this. Why that person would feel the need to bring up the blog to Boy#4 is beyond me. I feel incredibly guilty for putting Boy #4 anywhere close to that situation. Even though it is June 30, I am going to start working on that forgiveness thing early. I am going to forgive that person for making fun of Boy#4's involvement in the blog, and I am going to forgive myself for making the mistake of forcing Boy #4 to be OK with this situation. It sucks that I will no longer be able to write about him here, because I actually think this medium was helping my relationship with him. If it is hurting him though, it is just not worth it.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Mr. Byrne, you can sing Beyonce anytime
Wow, so it's been a few days since I have blogged. Bad self. Bad baddy bad bad. Here's what's been happening:
1. I had to go in for a colonoscopy on Friday, which sort of sucked. The prep went OK, as did the procedure. Actually it was kind of scary to be in that situation alone. They don't let visitors back into the recovery/prep area, so you are just waiting there, with the IV in your arm, hooked up to the heart monitor for about 30 minutes before you go on. There were a bunch of old ladies waiting to get theirs done too, and they were all moaning about being too cold or waiting too long. Nonetheless, during the time before my procedure, I was amazed by how diverse the staff was. If you ever question the multiculturalism of America, take a nice little trip down to Cedar Sinai. I think you will be pleasantly suprised. The staff was comprised of all races, nationalities and sexes. The team that took care of me was comprised of a Korean lady, a Filipino man, a Jamaican woman and a Japanese man. My anesthesiologist was also Asian, although I could not nail down whether she was Korean or Chinese, or even Taiwanese (je suis un Americane stupide, je sais, je sais). The whole room could have been a corporate promotional video, everybody working together, side by side, la da dee da dododo goulet...!
2. Before an after the procedure, Boy #4 was incredible. He took such good care of me, I am not sure I deserved it. We went to eat at the Newsroom Cafe and then went to see Rize at the Mann Chinese Theater. I think the movie was good, but to be honest, I was still in a drug haze, so I don't remember much. After the movie Boy #4 took me back home and I slept until morning. (Ps. thank you, Jrey, CelinaBeena, PrincessRockstar and Mia for the texts, they made me smile until my cheeks fell off.)
3. On Sunday, Boy #4 and I joined Toddykins and VivaciousVanessa for the David Byrne/Arcade Fire show at the Hollywood Bowl. When we finally arrived at the bowl, we felt extra confident and began to look for the will call line. When we approached the ticket windows, we saw a large line. Now, when I say large, I don't just mean 30 or 40 people. No, no, my friends, this line wrapped clear around to the edge of the parking lot. Needless to say, we were a bit peeved, but we followed the evil snaking mass of concert goers around the path until we found the end. We tried to distract ourselves by playing "line games" and making T-dogg dance, but no amount of sidesteps could distract us from the blatant inefficieny of the will call system. Next time, we WON'T call, thank you very much.
(Still 3) Eventually, we did make it into the bowl, which is HUMONGUS yet very beautiful. It is nestled in the valley of the large hills/mountains of Griffith Park. The sound was incredible - you could actually hear every instrument, including the often inaudible violins. I must admit that my appreciation for arcade fire grew incrimentally as the show went on. They are really talented musicians, and basically rock the f out of every song they play. Their album is definitely going to rotate in my car this week. David Byrne knocked my socks off. Both pairs. And I wasn't even wearing socks. He played a bunch of Talking Heads songs, including "Home" and "Psycho Killer." He has a funny little dance he does with his hips, which was really quite cute. You can always tell who has real vocal talent by how much an artist dances on stage. For example, Britney Spears has to dance a lot to make up for the fact that she sucks, whereas David Byrne can just sort of scoot around and still have the audience in the palm of his hand.
(Yep, 3) The real tofutti cutie of the night was when Mr. Byrne brought out the Extra Action Marching Band to join him for his last song. Now, you might be thinking, what could possibly add extra action to a marching band? I'll just give you this image and let you figure the rest out: the flag girls (and not all of them were girls) incorporated a move into their routiene where they pretended to masturbate using their flags. You with me now? Tremendous. So what does he do, now that he has a full band and erotic dancers to back him up. HE FUCKING COVERED 'CRAZY' BY BEYONCE! The whole bowl went nuts. It was, quite possibly, the best cover I have ever seen live. I hate that stupid song, but with the Extra Action Band in the background and Byrne holding down the vocals, it was heaven.
1. I had to go in for a colonoscopy on Friday, which sort of sucked. The prep went OK, as did the procedure. Actually it was kind of scary to be in that situation alone. They don't let visitors back into the recovery/prep area, so you are just waiting there, with the IV in your arm, hooked up to the heart monitor for about 30 minutes before you go on. There were a bunch of old ladies waiting to get theirs done too, and they were all moaning about being too cold or waiting too long. Nonetheless, during the time before my procedure, I was amazed by how diverse the staff was. If you ever question the multiculturalism of America, take a nice little trip down to Cedar Sinai. I think you will be pleasantly suprised. The staff was comprised of all races, nationalities and sexes. The team that took care of me was comprised of a Korean lady, a Filipino man, a Jamaican woman and a Japanese man. My anesthesiologist was also Asian, although I could not nail down whether she was Korean or Chinese, or even Taiwanese (je suis un Americane stupide, je sais, je sais). The whole room could have been a corporate promotional video, everybody working together, side by side, la da dee da dododo goulet...!
2. Before an after the procedure, Boy #4 was incredible. He took such good care of me, I am not sure I deserved it. We went to eat at the Newsroom Cafe and then went to see Rize at the Mann Chinese Theater. I think the movie was good, but to be honest, I was still in a drug haze, so I don't remember much. After the movie Boy #4 took me back home and I slept until morning. (Ps. thank you, Jrey, CelinaBeena, PrincessRockstar and Mia for the texts, they made me smile until my cheeks fell off.)
3. On Sunday, Boy #4 and I joined Toddykins and VivaciousVanessa for the David Byrne/Arcade Fire show at the Hollywood Bowl. When we finally arrived at the bowl, we felt extra confident and began to look for the will call line. When we approached the ticket windows, we saw a large line. Now, when I say large, I don't just mean 30 or 40 people. No, no, my friends, this line wrapped clear around to the edge of the parking lot. Needless to say, we were a bit peeved, but we followed the evil snaking mass of concert goers around the path until we found the end. We tried to distract ourselves by playing "line games" and making T-dogg dance, but no amount of sidesteps could distract us from the blatant inefficieny of the will call system. Next time, we WON'T call, thank you very much.
(Still 3) Eventually, we did make it into the bowl, which is HUMONGUS yet very beautiful. It is nestled in the valley of the large hills/mountains of Griffith Park. The sound was incredible - you could actually hear every instrument, including the often inaudible violins. I must admit that my appreciation for arcade fire grew incrimentally as the show went on. They are really talented musicians, and basically rock the f out of every song they play. Their album is definitely going to rotate in my car this week. David Byrne knocked my socks off. Both pairs. And I wasn't even wearing socks. He played a bunch of Talking Heads songs, including "Home" and "Psycho Killer." He has a funny little dance he does with his hips, which was really quite cute. You can always tell who has real vocal talent by how much an artist dances on stage. For example, Britney Spears has to dance a lot to make up for the fact that she sucks, whereas David Byrne can just sort of scoot around and still have the audience in the palm of his hand.
(Yep, 3) The real tofutti cutie of the night was when Mr. Byrne brought out the Extra Action Marching Band to join him for his last song. Now, you might be thinking, what could possibly add extra action to a marching band? I'll just give you this image and let you figure the rest out: the flag girls (and not all of them were girls) incorporated a move into their routiene where they pretended to masturbate using their flags. You with me now? Tremendous. So what does he do, now that he has a full band and erotic dancers to back him up. HE FUCKING COVERED 'CRAZY' BY BEYONCE! The whole bowl went nuts. It was, quite possibly, the best cover I have ever seen live. I hate that stupid song, but with the Extra Action Band in the background and Byrne holding down the vocals, it was heaven.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
So this is the new year
Tonight was another affirmation of the idea that a trip to the gym always provides clarity. Whenever I am not sure what to do about something, or upset about something, or what have you, I am going to head directly to the gym. When I was running tonight, I had an epipheny. Actually, it was probably due to the multitude of deep conversations I had today, but it seemed to all come together in the middle of the second uphill mile.
Now is my chance to start over.
For the past few weeks, I have been looking at the end of everything. It is the end of my TFA committment. The end of teaching. In four weeks, the end of Boy#4. The end of life in WeHo with Alekandrizx.
I keep forgetting to see the beginning that comes after the end. It is the beginning of a new job, with new challenges that will most likely shape my life. It is the beginning of being single again, scary, but exciting at the same time. It is the beginning of a time when I can work on myself, so I am better in the next relationship that may come along. It is the beginning of life in Los Feliz/Silverlake, in my own apartment, where I can walk around naked if I want. It is the beginning of having a vacation home in Long Beach. It is the beginning of me calling my friends when I want to see them, and being OK if they don't call me.
Therefore, I am throwing out my January 1, 2005. On July 1, I begin my new year, starting with my new job. I am going to make a conscious effort to be better, in all aspects of my life. Fortunately, I have a blog to keep me in check. ;)
Now is my chance to start over.
For the past few weeks, I have been looking at the end of everything. It is the end of my TFA committment. The end of teaching. In four weeks, the end of Boy#4. The end of life in WeHo with Alekandrizx.
I keep forgetting to see the beginning that comes after the end. It is the beginning of a new job, with new challenges that will most likely shape my life. It is the beginning of being single again, scary, but exciting at the same time. It is the beginning of a time when I can work on myself, so I am better in the next relationship that may come along. It is the beginning of life in Los Feliz/Silverlake, in my own apartment, where I can walk around naked if I want. It is the beginning of having a vacation home in Long Beach. It is the beginning of me calling my friends when I want to see them, and being OK if they don't call me.
Therefore, I am throwing out my January 1, 2005. On July 1, I begin my new year, starting with my new job. I am going to make a conscious effort to be better, in all aspects of my life. Fortunately, I have a blog to keep me in check. ;)
And this is why I love YA fiction..
Some people make fun of me for liking YA lit so much. You know what I say to them? POOP! Young adult fiction can oftentimes be superior to adult fiction. Here is a perfect example from the book I just finished, entitled "A Great and Terrible Beauty" by Libba Bray:
"But forgiveness..I'll hold on to that fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there's an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light all of the time."
Fucking brilliant, I say. I know it is not an original idea, but it is well-timed. The idea of forgiveness. Forgiving yourself for being both good and bad, and realizing the importance of that equillibrium.
And perhaps, in regards to our most recent blogs, we can forgive ourselves for our mistakes in relationships. Wanting too much or not wanting enough, wavering between the player and the played, being the giver and the taker. I think, Machellian, in regards to your question earlier ('but what IS love?'), THAT is what love is. The "something solid" we hope to emerge into. Everything we are doing now is just an illusion.
"But forgiveness..I'll hold on to that fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there's an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light all of the time."
Fucking brilliant, I say. I know it is not an original idea, but it is well-timed. The idea of forgiveness. Forgiving yourself for being both good and bad, and realizing the importance of that equillibrium.
And perhaps, in regards to our most recent blogs, we can forgive ourselves for our mistakes in relationships. Wanting too much or not wanting enough, wavering between the player and the played, being the giver and the taker. I think, Machellian, in regards to your question earlier ('but what IS love?'), THAT is what love is. The "something solid" we hope to emerge into. Everything we are doing now is just an illusion.
Monday, June 20, 2005
If you blog it..
Here is solid evidence that if you blog it, it will come. Yay.
So remember that blog I wrote today, about Boy #4 not fulfilling my romantic needs? Yeah, well, you can forget that. He is wonderful. I am swooning.
Today I found out that I have to go to the hospital for a procedure on Friday. They are knocking me out completely, so I need someone to take care of me. Immediately, I thought of him, and not just because he is on summer vacation and has a vehicle. OK, maybe it had a little to do with that, but I like to think I that there are only a few people I would trust with my care after heavy doses of morphine (sp?).
I was nervous to ask him, afraid of his reaction. Was this something only serious friends do for each other? Would he be freaked out? Then I thought, well, i would do it for him in a heartbeat, so why wouldn't he do it for me?
Not only was he absolutely willing to drive me, he was not at all freaked out by my condition. Thank kittens. See? It's the little things that get me. The fact that he is willing to help me through a really yucky experience is enough to make me stay up past 11 pm.
So remember that blog I wrote today, about Boy #4 not fulfilling my romantic needs? Yeah, well, you can forget that. He is wonderful. I am swooning.
Today I found out that I have to go to the hospital for a procedure on Friday. They are knocking me out completely, so I need someone to take care of me. Immediately, I thought of him, and not just because he is on summer vacation and has a vehicle. OK, maybe it had a little to do with that, but I like to think I that there are only a few people I would trust with my care after heavy doses of morphine (sp?).
I was nervous to ask him, afraid of his reaction. Was this something only serious friends do for each other? Would he be freaked out? Then I thought, well, i would do it for him in a heartbeat, so why wouldn't he do it for me?
Not only was he absolutely willing to drive me, he was not at all freaked out by my condition. Thank kittens. See? It's the little things that get me. The fact that he is willing to help me through a really yucky experience is enough to make me stay up past 11 pm.
If it's just your heart, talkin', I don't mind
I must be insane. I'm talking utterly, completely and totally insane. Just as things are going well, my heart goes a different direction. Am I bipolar? It's possible.
A few posts ago, I wrote about how I was craving a romantic situation, despite the fact that Boy #4 should have been filling that need. In the end, it is my misstep, not his that is leaving me unsatisfied. He's right, really, I do want to be swept off my feet, but it doesn't take much for that to happen. I just want to be suprised I guess, by something. Is that unreasonable? Perhaps it is, for our situation. Perhaps it is better that things are stagnant and predictable, because of the time limit.
But I never liked stagnant and predictable. I want volatile and unpredictable. I want to drive down to his house and have my jaw hit the floor because of something he does or says. I want to find him sitting on my doorstep after a hard day at work. And maybe, if I do these things, he will reprocate. However, according to JummyRay, that would not be playing the game right. If I did those things, I would seem desparate, which is a very unattractive quality in a woman.
Oh, and the other thing I realized on Saturday, but couldn't quite get it out, is that I really hate that he pegs me as a "girly" girl. He and his friend (who was TREMENDOUS, by the way, except for this little incident) said some shit-ass comment on Sunday that just pissed me off so badly I wanted to run screaming from the restaurant. Granted, I peg him quite often as a "dude," but come on, he is a dude. Keg stands and all. And I accept him for that. I am NOT a girly girl. Yes, I like to talk shit with my friends, because let's face it, that is fun. Yes, I like it when my toes look pretty, because well, it looks like I take care of myself. But I cannot take the stereotyping. I pride myself on being different. One of my worst fears is becoming someone with no suprises. I can't be that, I refuse. I know I am not that.
And maybe that is how he deals with me. I fit into a category for him, so it is easy for him. No suprises.
A few posts ago, I wrote about how I was craving a romantic situation, despite the fact that Boy #4 should have been filling that need. In the end, it is my misstep, not his that is leaving me unsatisfied. He's right, really, I do want to be swept off my feet, but it doesn't take much for that to happen. I just want to be suprised I guess, by something. Is that unreasonable? Perhaps it is, for our situation. Perhaps it is better that things are stagnant and predictable, because of the time limit.
But I never liked stagnant and predictable. I want volatile and unpredictable. I want to drive down to his house and have my jaw hit the floor because of something he does or says. I want to find him sitting on my doorstep after a hard day at work. And maybe, if I do these things, he will reprocate. However, according to JummyRay, that would not be playing the game right. If I did those things, I would seem desparate, which is a very unattractive quality in a woman.
Oh, and the other thing I realized on Saturday, but couldn't quite get it out, is that I really hate that he pegs me as a "girly" girl. He and his friend (who was TREMENDOUS, by the way, except for this little incident) said some shit-ass comment on Sunday that just pissed me off so badly I wanted to run screaming from the restaurant. Granted, I peg him quite often as a "dude," but come on, he is a dude. Keg stands and all. And I accept him for that. I am NOT a girly girl. Yes, I like to talk shit with my friends, because let's face it, that is fun. Yes, I like it when my toes look pretty, because well, it looks like I take care of myself. But I cannot take the stereotyping. I pride myself on being different. One of my worst fears is becoming someone with no suprises. I can't be that, I refuse. I know I am not that.
And maybe that is how he deals with me. I fit into a category for him, so it is easy for him. No suprises.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
In the south bay. FOr the second saturday in a row.
Yes. Insanity rules. Blogging drunk. yay.
Michael J. Surrago, Esq says you gotta take the tuna cap to the ketchup in batuplico. You're doctoring the magic, he says, you;'ve perveted my words to change my perverted dreams!I dont want to be a hero right now.
Realistic, she is. She healthy? She's pretty Ok. She is healthy enough to be like fuckit, I'm traveling. - A conversation by boys at Boy#4's party.
Actually I think that it would be nice if the lunchy clubby faccey was here. I could use some advice on things. And stuff. And other things I cannot mention because there are at least 1 - 3 watching me do this blog.
Michellian, I hope you are revolutionizing your night tonight.
Jayna, I hope you found and conquered butter.
:)
Michael J. Surrago, Esq says you gotta take the tuna cap to the ketchup in batuplico. You're doctoring the magic, he says, you;'ve perveted my words to change my perverted dreams!I dont want to be a hero right now.
Realistic, she is. She healthy? She's pretty Ok. She is healthy enough to be like fuckit, I'm traveling. - A conversation by boys at Boy#4's party.
Actually I think that it would be nice if the lunchy clubby faccey was here. I could use some advice on things. And stuff. And other things I cannot mention because there are at least 1 - 3 watching me do this blog.
Michellian, I hope you are revolutionizing your night tonight.
Jayna, I hope you found and conquered butter.
:)
Friday, June 17, 2005
Are teachers crazy?
Next topic. If we weren't teachers, do you think we would worry as much about our relationships? Like if we were in an emotionless job, like a professional telemarketer or rodeo poop-scooper, would we talk as much about how dysfunctional we all are in our relationships?
I truly believe that this job magnifies every little emotion you have, because you have to be 'on' all the time. It is stressful. You are constantly asked to reflect on your teaching, your practice, etc. etc. etc. What effect does that have on the way you live your life? Is it better to be completely distracted from performing any type of metacognition?
I would also submit that hanging around with middle school kids escalates our need for drama.
I truly believe that this job magnifies every little emotion you have, because you have to be 'on' all the time. It is stressful. You are constantly asked to reflect on your teaching, your practice, etc. etc. etc. What effect does that have on the way you live your life? Is it better to be completely distracted from performing any type of metacognition?
I would also submit that hanging around with middle school kids escalates our need for drama.
Jayna's perfect man
I think for our first post, we should tackle one of the great mysteries of life. Who. Is Jayna. Actually. Attracted to?
This question has eluded me for many (ok, two really) years. I have consulted many parties on this. Now I put it to you, lunch club. What do you think?
Yes Jayna, you can comment too. :)
This question has eluded me for many (ok, two really) years. I have consulted many parties on this. Now I put it to you, lunch club. What do you think?
Yes Jayna, you can comment too. :)
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
If I had an Alex romance
Sigh. Alishmandro's blog is beautiful. Did you read his post about his date last weekend? Holy crap, it's amazing. He can just let himself go and this girl freaking responds. It is a drastic change from the last two, for the better, undoubtedly. I am so so so so so so so so happy for the boy. I think he has met his match.
And Celina, holy fish fry, that comment about being able to breathe out, very profound. I am glad that we have come to the part of the cycle where all of my friends are happy in relationships. Everyone is generally in a better mood when the pendulum swings this way.
I wish I could write about someone that way. I know it is incredibly selfish to think that, but I really do envy Alex and Celina and all you other happy campers (you are not excluded, Stefffony, Toddykins and Chewy). I just keep waiting, to feel that thing that you all have. But I can't help thinking that I really will end up alone, with cats. And in the end, it is my dysfunction(s) that keep me from finding what I am looking for, not the boys. As one fine friend said, the common factor is you, not the boys.
I prohibit myself from thinking about Boy#4 the way Allio thinks about his lady, because boy #4 is on the out. In my brain, I am already saying goodbye to him, so that when the day comes I'll be ready. Detach detach detach is my mantra, whenever I begin thinking about him. Like when I am driving home, and thinking about him, I try to actively switch my thoughts to something else, usually work stuff.
It's like this:
La dee da, listening to Jon Brion, Oh, I wish I could see Boy #4 tonight, wouldn't it be fun to play Boggle with him, I want to drive down and get that CD from him...NO NO NO NO...WHAT AM I DOING? WHAT WORK DO I HAVE TO DO TONIGHT? NEWSLETTER? OH YES, NEWSLETTER! I HAVE TO DO THE NEWSLETTER!
and so on and so forth until I am completely focused on work. It's a great method I call the 'distraction' method. It is great if you want to put a lot of energy and passion into your job. I mean, think about it, you get all those feelings stirred up and then redirect them. The product is always going to be high quality.
(Ok, I'm deluding myself, but let me have it, just for a minute)
In other news, my apartment search is proving quite taxing. Any advice agent Forman? I found a beautiful apartment just two blocks north of Vermont and Franklin, but the security deposit is huge and they want someone to move in on July 1. Arg.
Hopefully my next post will be about how in love I am with my new place. I promise to use at least 3 to 5 metaphors.
And Celina, holy fish fry, that comment about being able to breathe out, very profound. I am glad that we have come to the part of the cycle where all of my friends are happy in relationships. Everyone is generally in a better mood when the pendulum swings this way.
I wish I could write about someone that way. I know it is incredibly selfish to think that, but I really do envy Alex and Celina and all you other happy campers (you are not excluded, Stefffony, Toddykins and Chewy). I just keep waiting, to feel that thing that you all have. But I can't help thinking that I really will end up alone, with cats. And in the end, it is my dysfunction(s) that keep me from finding what I am looking for, not the boys. As one fine friend said, the common factor is you, not the boys.
I prohibit myself from thinking about Boy#4 the way Allio thinks about his lady, because boy #4 is on the out. In my brain, I am already saying goodbye to him, so that when the day comes I'll be ready. Detach detach detach is my mantra, whenever I begin thinking about him. Like when I am driving home, and thinking about him, I try to actively switch my thoughts to something else, usually work stuff.
It's like this:
La dee da, listening to Jon Brion, Oh, I wish I could see Boy #4 tonight, wouldn't it be fun to play Boggle with him, I want to drive down and get that CD from him...NO NO NO NO...WHAT AM I DOING? WHAT WORK DO I HAVE TO DO TONIGHT? NEWSLETTER? OH YES, NEWSLETTER! I HAVE TO DO THE NEWSLETTER!
and so on and so forth until I am completely focused on work. It's a great method I call the 'distraction' method. It is great if you want to put a lot of energy and passion into your job. I mean, think about it, you get all those feelings stirred up and then redirect them. The product is always going to be high quality.
(Ok, I'm deluding myself, but let me have it, just for a minute)
In other news, my apartment search is proving quite taxing. Any advice agent Forman? I found a beautiful apartment just two blocks north of Vermont and Franklin, but the security deposit is huge and they want someone to move in on July 1. Arg.
Hopefully my next post will be about how in love I am with my new place. I promise to use at least 3 to 5 metaphors.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Validation should always come in stamp form
Today I was at the verizon store, getting a new phone (yay! It's a camera phone), and someone next to me asked for validation. Sure, the store clerk said, here you go. And with one quick motion, she stamped the customer's ticket, and they were validated.
For some reason, the phrasing got me thinking. Wouldn't it be nice to be validated, for everything you do, with a stamp? Like everyone could just walk around with their own validation stamp, and whenever someone wanted validation from them for something, they could just stamp the person and the person would walk away happy.
For example, if you wanted validation for putting your life into teaching, your students could just stamp your hand on the way out of the classroom. Or if your significant other does some nice random thing, and you don't know how to thank them, you could just stamp their cheek (butt or face, it does not matter). I am certain this system would eliminate a lot of unnecessary hard feelings.
Believe it or not, I have found a new way to publicly humilate myself. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the drunk dialing of the 21st century...DRUNK BLOGGING! The last post was an example of how blogging while drunk is generally a bad idea. Fortunately, the post was not that damaging, but the fact that I had the urge to do that while drunk scares me. I am going to make every effort to make sure that I am not near a computadora with internet access while under the influence. (Look at that, the "whiles" line up. That's snappy).
An update on the Boys. Or Boy, considering the fact that I have not seen Boy #3 in weeks, Boy #2 and I are friends again, and Boy #1 is non-existent. Boy #4 has been making some strategic moves lately, despite his behavior early last week. On Wednesday, we hashed things out one last time, and he suggested he come up to my house to play scrabble. Needless to say, I melted. We had talked about playing scrabble, but never actually made it happen. I was insanely happy that he brought up the idea, and followed through on it.
So we played. And I kicked. His. Assssss! Ha! I don't win at scrabble very often, so it is very gratifying to triumph occasionally. The odds were really against Boy #4, because I have so much scrabble experience, and he was slightly frightened by the intensity with which I played the game. I apologized for my extreme focus, and promised that next time we would play something less serious like Boggle. Or drunk Boggle. Or coloring. (Ok, I didn't really suggest coloring, but you know...)
Things with Boy #4 are just plain good now, it is almost a shame that he is leaving in a month and a half. At least that won't give me time to fuck it up further. But then again, there is always tomorrow. And the next day. And then the one two days after that. Hm.
For some reason, the phrasing got me thinking. Wouldn't it be nice to be validated, for everything you do, with a stamp? Like everyone could just walk around with their own validation stamp, and whenever someone wanted validation from them for something, they could just stamp the person and the person would walk away happy.
For example, if you wanted validation for putting your life into teaching, your students could just stamp your hand on the way out of the classroom. Or if your significant other does some nice random thing, and you don't know how to thank them, you could just stamp their cheek (butt or face, it does not matter). I am certain this system would eliminate a lot of unnecessary hard feelings.
Believe it or not, I have found a new way to publicly humilate myself. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the drunk dialing of the 21st century...DRUNK BLOGGING! The last post was an example of how blogging while drunk is generally a bad idea. Fortunately, the post was not that damaging, but the fact that I had the urge to do that while drunk scares me. I am going to make every effort to make sure that I am not near a computadora with internet access while under the influence. (Look at that, the "whiles" line up. That's snappy).
An update on the Boys. Or Boy, considering the fact that I have not seen Boy #3 in weeks, Boy #2 and I are friends again, and Boy #1 is non-existent. Boy #4 has been making some strategic moves lately, despite his behavior early last week. On Wednesday, we hashed things out one last time, and he suggested he come up to my house to play scrabble. Needless to say, I melted. We had talked about playing scrabble, but never actually made it happen. I was insanely happy that he brought up the idea, and followed through on it.
So we played. And I kicked. His. Assssss! Ha! I don't win at scrabble very often, so it is very gratifying to triumph occasionally. The odds were really against Boy #4, because I have so much scrabble experience, and he was slightly frightened by the intensity with which I played the game. I apologized for my extreme focus, and promised that next time we would play something less serious like Boggle. Or drunk Boggle. Or coloring. (Ok, I didn't really suggest coloring, but you know...)
Things with Boy #4 are just plain good now, it is almost a shame that he is leaving in a month and a half. At least that won't give me time to fuck it up further. But then again, there is always tomorrow. And the next day. And then the one two days after that. Hm.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Oh Blind Date!
So the girl that Todd was paired up with was awful. I am talking terrible, I want to smack her down terrible.
His quote: She was bitchy, but she was not awful.
Mmmhm. Yea.
And now back to my cranberry vodka.
His quote: She was bitchy, but she was not awful.
Mmmhm. Yea.
And now back to my cranberry vodka.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Who's sorry now?
This morning, on Democracy Now (www.democracynow.org), they said that a new Washington Post - ABC poll showed that Americans no longer feel that the war in Iraq made the US a safer place. The poll also said that 75 percent of people feel the number of US causalties in Iraq is unacceptable.
To that I say a big FAT, WELL WELL WELL, I TOLD YOU FREAKING SO YOU STUPID STUPID PEOPLE WHO VOTED FOR BUSH!
Why are people suddenly coming to this realization?
Last night, I went motorcycle riding with one Miss C, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s friend. Again, it was an incredible experience. Hollywood boulevard and the sunset strip have never looked so beautiful. Riding a motorcycle is like getting your prescription changed (or, as I would imagine it feels, because I have never had this exact experience. Go eyes!). The world looks sharper, colors are brighter, the sounds more intense (even though you are essentially deaf inside that helmet).
Similies aside though, we got into a very interesting conversation during our stop at Swingers. Somehow, we started talking about the government and money, and Miss C’s boyfriend brought up the fact that his brother went to Vietnam. He (Miss C’s boy) said that his brother realized, after three tours, that he was being forced to fight for all the wrong reasons. When his brother first went to Vietnam, he sincerely believed he was fighting for democracy and the end of communist regimes. But as he returned, he began to understand that the war was essentially for nothing. Money maybe. Political power maybe. But not freedom and democracy.
It occurred to me, as I am certain it did to everyone else at the table, that I had heard this same tale recently, over and over again. Soldiers, who committed to defend America and spread democracy, come back from Iraq damaged by the realization that they were used. They were used to secure American power across the region. They were used to make sure Halliburton would make bank this year, and for years to come. They were used to make sure the Bush Administration could still have access to valuable oil reserves. Democracy? I think they forgot to include that in the plan. And it makes me incredibly angry that soldiers die every day fighting a losing battle.
And there’s my rant for the day. Sorry to get all serious on ya.
I did my best to avoid contact with Boy #4 yesterday, and I think I am going to continue on this past for the next few days. He texted me, I texted back, small talk mostly. Ug, I think we broke when he came to the realization that he could not handle me being with other people. I want to be with him, but now when I think about seeing him, I get nervous about what I am going to say to him that is going to be offensive, or wandering into dangerous territory. I don’t like the part of the relationship where I get quiet. The part when I stop being myself. I don’t want to stop being myself.
The stace-meister and I have had a lot of conversations about the fine line between totally abandoning your single self and being a “_____friend.” You should not have to give up being yourself to be in a relationship, but I think that you do it involuntarily anyways. You have to be more conscious of your actions and your feelings. It has to do with vulnerability – you are vulnerable to being hurt by your partner’s actions, and vice versa.
I think I am just getting the distinct feeling that Boy #4 would not be nearly as hurt by my actions as I would by his. It’s an imbalance, you know? Everyone struggles with the scales.
To that I say a big FAT, WELL WELL WELL, I TOLD YOU FREAKING SO YOU STUPID STUPID PEOPLE WHO VOTED FOR BUSH!
Why are people suddenly coming to this realization?
Last night, I went motorcycle riding with one Miss C, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s friend. Again, it was an incredible experience. Hollywood boulevard and the sunset strip have never looked so beautiful. Riding a motorcycle is like getting your prescription changed (or, as I would imagine it feels, because I have never had this exact experience. Go eyes!). The world looks sharper, colors are brighter, the sounds more intense (even though you are essentially deaf inside that helmet).
Similies aside though, we got into a very interesting conversation during our stop at Swingers. Somehow, we started talking about the government and money, and Miss C’s boyfriend brought up the fact that his brother went to Vietnam. He (Miss C’s boy) said that his brother realized, after three tours, that he was being forced to fight for all the wrong reasons. When his brother first went to Vietnam, he sincerely believed he was fighting for democracy and the end of communist regimes. But as he returned, he began to understand that the war was essentially for nothing. Money maybe. Political power maybe. But not freedom and democracy.
It occurred to me, as I am certain it did to everyone else at the table, that I had heard this same tale recently, over and over again. Soldiers, who committed to defend America and spread democracy, come back from Iraq damaged by the realization that they were used. They were used to secure American power across the region. They were used to make sure Halliburton would make bank this year, and for years to come. They were used to make sure the Bush Administration could still have access to valuable oil reserves. Democracy? I think they forgot to include that in the plan. And it makes me incredibly angry that soldiers die every day fighting a losing battle.
And there’s my rant for the day. Sorry to get all serious on ya.
I did my best to avoid contact with Boy #4 yesterday, and I think I am going to continue on this past for the next few days. He texted me, I texted back, small talk mostly. Ug, I think we broke when he came to the realization that he could not handle me being with other people. I want to be with him, but now when I think about seeing him, I get nervous about what I am going to say to him that is going to be offensive, or wandering into dangerous territory. I don’t like the part of the relationship where I get quiet. The part when I stop being myself. I don’t want to stop being myself.
The stace-meister and I have had a lot of conversations about the fine line between totally abandoning your single self and being a “_____friend.” You should not have to give up being yourself to be in a relationship, but I think that you do it involuntarily anyways. You have to be more conscious of your actions and your feelings. It has to do with vulnerability – you are vulnerable to being hurt by your partner’s actions, and vice versa.
I think I am just getting the distinct feeling that Boy #4 would not be nearly as hurt by my actions as I would by his. It’s an imbalance, you know? Everyone struggles with the scales.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Suddenly everything has changed
This morning I was singing, out loud, in front of my students. Yes, I have lost my mind. Completely. Actually it is not as bad as you may think, because it was only in front of two students, and I was helping them practice for their audition for graduation singer. The whole process is messed up really, because the students have no choice in what they are allowed to sing. They are required to sing "Graduation Song" by Vitamin C, which if you have ever heard the song, is not one easily done by 13 year old girls. Plus it is an awful bastardization of the pachebell canon. I was pushing for them (aka the administration) to let me help the girls pick another song, just so they could have the opportunity to perform. No no, that was out of the question of course. We find out the results tomorrow. Cross your fingers for little Carla and Rocio.
Matters of the heart are, as usual, in tumult (hey, that is one of our vocab words this week). Boy #4 was extremely offended by the blog yesterday, so much so that he made sure to block it from his browser. To that I say snap crackers don't pop! I was being honest. I said I was sorry, and pleaded (pled? plod? did done pleaded?) with him to forgive me for my literary transgressions. I was venting, I said, I was frustrated. I guess the "you're not a man" comment was a bit harsh, but it's true, and not directly a dig on him. I think that is what separates the men from the boys, or the women from the girls, or what have you.
The lunch club has varying opinions as to how to handle this situation. One particularly wise woman suggested I take a minute and think rationally, evaluate logically, and listen carefully. THen she heard he was leaving in two months. Her advice, after that, was to kick all this shit to the curb, and just have fun. Another lovely lady said it was time to end it altogether. Why not tonight? she asked, and promised she would have her motorcycle waiting so we could joy ride afterwards.
Not tonight though, wise lady one is right. The thought makes me sad, so I know I don't want to end it. When the thought of ending it does not make me sad, that will be the time to say peace out. But I'll still take a ride on the bike.
Matters of the heart are, as usual, in tumult (hey, that is one of our vocab words this week). Boy #4 was extremely offended by the blog yesterday, so much so that he made sure to block it from his browser. To that I say snap crackers don't pop! I was being honest. I said I was sorry, and pleaded (pled? plod? did done pleaded?) with him to forgive me for my literary transgressions. I was venting, I said, I was frustrated. I guess the "you're not a man" comment was a bit harsh, but it's true, and not directly a dig on him. I think that is what separates the men from the boys, or the women from the girls, or what have you.
The lunch club has varying opinions as to how to handle this situation. One particularly wise woman suggested I take a minute and think rationally, evaluate logically, and listen carefully. THen she heard he was leaving in two months. Her advice, after that, was to kick all this shit to the curb, and just have fun. Another lovely lady said it was time to end it altogether. Why not tonight? she asked, and promised she would have her motorcycle waiting so we could joy ride afterwards.
Not tonight though, wise lady one is right. The thought makes me sad, so I know I don't want to end it. When the thought of ending it does not make me sad, that will be the time to say peace out. But I'll still take a ride on the bike.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Motorbikes and emotional mechanics
(This blog was written over two days. Here is the entry from Friday)
I truly am a despicable individual.
Today I skipped school to hang out with Alex's friend who is visiting from Missurah. And I just got home from spending the night at Boy #4's house. I believe the term 'playa playa' fits me like a new cotton sock. (Mmmm, new cotton socks)
I actually think karma made its way around to me, because I contracted a minor cough on Wednesday, and now I am ACTUALLY sick instead of just pretending to be sick while I take a sick day from school. Heh.
This week at school has been rather entertaining actually, because my student teacher started his observations and we started using the ISIS (scary computerized attendance/grading system) at school. Suprisingly, the first day with the system went flawlessly. How's that for progress? You impliment a new program, and it actually works? That does not seem to follow the LAUSD precedent. Perhaps things are looking up. The only pain in the ass part of this program is the grade book part, because it is nowhere near as efficient as our old system. I guess I should be thankful though, because Shmaleepoo still has to pencil in his grades on a bubble sheet. That is so, like, 1970.
And now its time for the segue.
Trusty rustry RainyDaySteph brings up several good points. Yes, it's true, the whole point of bringing Boy#2 a CD would be a mistake. And it's true, I am trying to sabotage things with boy #4, because he is __________________ (fill in the blank).
(And now, for Monday's entry)
First and foremost, I have to say that I am now addicted to motorcycle riding. I participated in Celina's poker ride by riding on the back of a motorcycle as we coasted around Los Angeles. It was a tremendous experience. I was scared shitless for the first few minutes, but I definitely got more comfortable as the ride went on. It is so exciting to feel that one second of intensity when the rider accelerates. I cannot even compare it to anything else I have done. I almost felt like I was in a foreign country as we rode around, because I got a chance to see parts of Los Angeles I have never seen. We went through some sort of canyon, and there were huge red tailed hawks everywhere, swooping down right next to us. At one point we stopped at Cook's Corner, which was, I kid you not, the quintessential biker bar. Hundreds of bikes were crowded into the dirt parking lot outside this dive of dives. There was grafitti on the ceiling that included key phrases like "Jim was here" and "F U Daisy!". All kinds of people were sitting around in their leather and sport bike gear, talking shop and smoking up a storm. Outside the bar, vendors were selling all sorts of biking items, such as sparkley fringe things and leather vests. Right before the end of the ride, we had a chance to drive down the coast and see the ocean. It was intense. I have had dreams about it for the past two nights. I cannot wait to go again.
The next day, I successfully proceeded to completely ruin any normalcy with Boy #4. I went down to his hood on Sunday, to say hello and drop off vairous items I had for him. At some point in our conversation, he told me he knew I was keeping something from him (not in those exact words, but that was the gist). I outright told him about Boy #5 (who is going to remain extremely anonymous), assuming it was ridiculous to try and hide it, and about how Boy5 and I stopped anything before it could go anywhere. Welp, I am dumb. That was outright sabotage. That was the complete wrong thing to say. To make a long story (that is still going on) short, we ended up in a conversation about the state of our relationship. I decided that, in order to avoid sticky situations like this in the future, that I would be willing to put down my dating shoes for a while. I mean, really, why do I need to mess around with anyone else right now? Boy #4 and I said we would keep an open relationship, but I feel like at this point, it is ridiculous to do something that just makes more problems.
We have come to a crossroads, I suppose, and it is one I have visited before. Usually, this ends in me getting hurt, because the boy is still a boy, and not yet man enought to accept some sort of responsibility for my feelings. I am not one to jump into a committed relationship (as indicated by my inability to stay with one person for more than 6 months). But even so, my idea of a committed relationship differs drastically from the traditional definition that I think Boy #4 is holding onto. The next level here, for me, is just not hooking up with anybody else. It does NOT mean we need to talk on the phone every day. It does NOT mean I am going to start introducing boy #4 as my boyfriend, nor do i expect him to introduce me as his girlfriend. It does NOT mean that we are going to start spending every waking moment together, or that I expect him to check with me before he goes out, because lord knows I would never be able to do that. At this point, I just want to be in a relationship where we are a little more careful not to hurt each other's feelings. There's nothing scary about that, is there?
And then my other question, is this completely ridiculous? Perhaps I should just run away? Do I keep on fighting a losing battle?
I truly am a despicable individual.
Today I skipped school to hang out with Alex's friend who is visiting from Missurah. And I just got home from spending the night at Boy #4's house. I believe the term 'playa playa' fits me like a new cotton sock. (Mmmm, new cotton socks)
I actually think karma made its way around to me, because I contracted a minor cough on Wednesday, and now I am ACTUALLY sick instead of just pretending to be sick while I take a sick day from school. Heh.
This week at school has been rather entertaining actually, because my student teacher started his observations and we started using the ISIS (scary computerized attendance/grading system) at school. Suprisingly, the first day with the system went flawlessly. How's that for progress? You impliment a new program, and it actually works? That does not seem to follow the LAUSD precedent. Perhaps things are looking up. The only pain in the ass part of this program is the grade book part, because it is nowhere near as efficient as our old system. I guess I should be thankful though, because Shmaleepoo still has to pencil in his grades on a bubble sheet. That is so, like, 1970.
And now its time for the segue.
Trusty rustry RainyDaySteph brings up several good points. Yes, it's true, the whole point of bringing Boy#2 a CD would be a mistake. And it's true, I am trying to sabotage things with boy #4, because he is __________________ (fill in the blank).
(And now, for Monday's entry)
First and foremost, I have to say that I am now addicted to motorcycle riding. I participated in Celina's poker ride by riding on the back of a motorcycle as we coasted around Los Angeles. It was a tremendous experience. I was scared shitless for the first few minutes, but I definitely got more comfortable as the ride went on. It is so exciting to feel that one second of intensity when the rider accelerates. I cannot even compare it to anything else I have done. I almost felt like I was in a foreign country as we rode around, because I got a chance to see parts of Los Angeles I have never seen. We went through some sort of canyon, and there were huge red tailed hawks everywhere, swooping down right next to us. At one point we stopped at Cook's Corner, which was, I kid you not, the quintessential biker bar. Hundreds of bikes were crowded into the dirt parking lot outside this dive of dives. There was grafitti on the ceiling that included key phrases like "Jim was here" and "F U Daisy!". All kinds of people were sitting around in their leather and sport bike gear, talking shop and smoking up a storm. Outside the bar, vendors were selling all sorts of biking items, such as sparkley fringe things and leather vests. Right before the end of the ride, we had a chance to drive down the coast and see the ocean. It was intense. I have had dreams about it for the past two nights. I cannot wait to go again.
The next day, I successfully proceeded to completely ruin any normalcy with Boy #4. I went down to his hood on Sunday, to say hello and drop off vairous items I had for him. At some point in our conversation, he told me he knew I was keeping something from him (not in those exact words, but that was the gist). I outright told him about Boy #5 (who is going to remain extremely anonymous), assuming it was ridiculous to try and hide it, and about how Boy5 and I stopped anything before it could go anywhere. Welp, I am dumb. That was outright sabotage. That was the complete wrong thing to say. To make a long story (that is still going on) short, we ended up in a conversation about the state of our relationship. I decided that, in order to avoid sticky situations like this in the future, that I would be willing to put down my dating shoes for a while. I mean, really, why do I need to mess around with anyone else right now? Boy #4 and I said we would keep an open relationship, but I feel like at this point, it is ridiculous to do something that just makes more problems.
We have come to a crossroads, I suppose, and it is one I have visited before. Usually, this ends in me getting hurt, because the boy is still a boy, and not yet man enought to accept some sort of responsibility for my feelings. I am not one to jump into a committed relationship (as indicated by my inability to stay with one person for more than 6 months). But even so, my idea of a committed relationship differs drastically from the traditional definition that I think Boy #4 is holding onto. The next level here, for me, is just not hooking up with anybody else. It does NOT mean we need to talk on the phone every day. It does NOT mean I am going to start introducing boy #4 as my boyfriend, nor do i expect him to introduce me as his girlfriend. It does NOT mean that we are going to start spending every waking moment together, or that I expect him to check with me before he goes out, because lord knows I would never be able to do that. At this point, I just want to be in a relationship where we are a little more careful not to hurt each other's feelings. There's nothing scary about that, is there?
And then my other question, is this completely ridiculous? Perhaps I should just run away? Do I keep on fighting a losing battle?
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