Oh Christmas. The weirdest time of year for me because there's just so much family and so much suburbs. I am currently sitting in my father's living room drinking copious amounts of coffee, breathing in the second hand smoke from my father and step-mother's ciggarettes, and watching the soccer mom's section of the Today show.
Since my mother moved to Colorado, coming home to my dad's house is just... awkward. There's no place for me here. Each of the other kids has their own room in the house, but I'm the one that didn't grow up here. I am the odd one who came to MD and stayed at my mom's house which (while I hate everything about the Kentlands and Lakelands) was home. So here... I constantly feel like I'm imposing in some way. This isn't my home. This is my dad's house. Oh well. There's cable and internet, what else do I really need? Seriously.
In other news, I AM SO HAPPY THAT IT'S WINTER BREAK. I feel like I haven't been able to catch up this year. I am completely planned, but have no real clue how to stay on top of everything I've planned. It's very frustrating. It's like running on a tredmill. I keep going and going and going but really i'm in the same damn spot I was yesterday only now I'm exhausted. (Side note: I changed stations, and now I'm watching Love Actually. I love Alan Rickman.) Basically I really need these ten days off.
Sunnier topics... I've been running around the past month with fun social events as well. Post-Thanksgiving Potluck was a lot of fun. Though we played Apples to Apples with lots of people, which did not work out so well. Mad River Happy Hour was a lot of crazy dancing, cheap liquor, and general debauchery. Jess' play was fantastic. Delivering Operation Santa presents was heartwarming, and not the least bit scary :) (gotta love nicetown).
I'm a bit doofy over a new boy, but you know i get like that sometimes. It's good and grown up and I'm playing it cool, calm, collected... or so I'd like to think. (And that's all of the gossip you'll be allowed to get from me on that.)
My laptop is about to die, and so I am going to go.
More another time my loves.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Sunday, November 04, 2007
"And that creaking you hear... is my brain's overload."
I have lots of little things that I want to say, and none would be able to make it's way to a full entry... so I made a list.
1. If I time my morning commute right, I can watch the sunrise over the delaware river when the EL goes up to Spring Garden. The row homes are silouhetted in black against the bright oranges and purples of the morning sky. It's enough to make North Philadelphia and even New Jersey look beautiful.
2. A BNL song popped into my head for the first time in ages on Friday night. "Oh alcohol, would you please forgive me? While I cannot love myself, I use something else."
3. The amount of grading i have to do might make my head explode.
4. Three cops were shot in Philadelphia last week in three different situations. One passed away, the other two are recovering. It's a tragedy, and slightly unnerving that criminals are now fine with shooting law enforcement. It makes me mad though that it took these three shootings for people to begin getting worried about the crime in the city. Since January 1st, 2007 to October 18th, 2007 there were 318 murders. And in the past week, they have just now figured out that Philly has a problem? Oh the town I love so much...
5. I wish I remembered all the things I wanted to say when I started writing...
1. If I time my morning commute right, I can watch the sunrise over the delaware river when the EL goes up to Spring Garden. The row homes are silouhetted in black against the bright oranges and purples of the morning sky. It's enough to make North Philadelphia and even New Jersey look beautiful.
2. A BNL song popped into my head for the first time in ages on Friday night. "Oh alcohol, would you please forgive me? While I cannot love myself, I use something else."
3. The amount of grading i have to do might make my head explode.
4. Three cops were shot in Philadelphia last week in three different situations. One passed away, the other two are recovering. It's a tragedy, and slightly unnerving that criminals are now fine with shooting law enforcement. It makes me mad though that it took these three shootings for people to begin getting worried about the crime in the city. Since January 1st, 2007 to October 18th, 2007 there were 318 murders. And in the past week, they have just now figured out that Philly has a problem? Oh the town I love so much...
5. I wish I remembered all the things I wanted to say when I started writing...
Saturday, October 27, 2007
"Takes two beers to remember why, and five more to forget..."
A warning to those that read this: This entry is whiny. This entry is melodramatic. To all those who are going to read it, I am aware that i am being whiny and melodramatic. No, mom, i don't want to talk about it.
Moving on.
Halloween reminds me of him. It reminds me of the party where we got drunk and I made him pinky swear that when he was 26 and I was 30 that we would date "for real" as I called it. He laughed and kissed my cheek. I was dating someone else, and i knew deep down that it was going to end. It was the night we stayed up all night telling secrets. It was a night that we just knew. The next day we debriefed. I told him that I wanted to stay with the boy i was currently dating, and reminded him of our pinky swear. A week later, I had been dumped, he'd been mugged, septa was on strike and he held me tight on the futon in the living room of kellie's apartment. Between October 30th and November 6th, I just remember him.
I remember that he's gone and won't come back. This year I remember just how alone i really am. I remember that at 25, I have never held a relationship longer than 7 months. I remember the men who i've driven away for whatever reason, and all the faults and cynacism that I have towards relationships. I sit here alone in my halloween costume, thinking of him, thinking of "all the loves that could have been, if i'd only thought of something charming to say."
I feel like I've "gone long enough, waiting for wonderful."
Moving on.
Halloween reminds me of him. It reminds me of the party where we got drunk and I made him pinky swear that when he was 26 and I was 30 that we would date "for real" as I called it. He laughed and kissed my cheek. I was dating someone else, and i knew deep down that it was going to end. It was the night we stayed up all night telling secrets. It was a night that we just knew. The next day we debriefed. I told him that I wanted to stay with the boy i was currently dating, and reminded him of our pinky swear. A week later, I had been dumped, he'd been mugged, septa was on strike and he held me tight on the futon in the living room of kellie's apartment. Between October 30th and November 6th, I just remember him.
I remember that he's gone and won't come back. This year I remember just how alone i really am. I remember that at 25, I have never held a relationship longer than 7 months. I remember the men who i've driven away for whatever reason, and all the faults and cynacism that I have towards relationships. I sit here alone in my halloween costume, thinking of him, thinking of "all the loves that could have been, if i'd only thought of something charming to say."
I feel like I've "gone long enough, waiting for wonderful."
Sunday, October 14, 2007
"So in the end it's not just you with your memories and your scars..."
Jess stole my journal entry idea. I blame the fact that she can stay up after a concert to update her blog, whereas I turned into a pumpkin on the ride home. Actually, I just think she and I think very similarly and we both love the nathanson so much.
Quick concert review: fan-freaking-tastic. He played the best of the new album, "then I'll be smiling," "loud," "church clothes," his standards from beneath these fireworks, "answering machine," "don't stop believin'," "laid," "lucky boy," and then CAME BACK after his finale to do one more song "little victories." I love him.
Still, much like jess, I was thinking about music and it's affect on me. I have songs for everyone. I have a soundtrack to my life at all times. There are songs that I equate with myself, and lyrics that i think sum me up. Like everyone, I have lyrics that I wish I associated with myself.
When this entry was first concieved, I was going to go through a bunch of songs that had to do with my life (very much in the way Graham and I spent time talking about our autobiographical songs), but now I think I'm just going to pass on that idea.
I was laying in bed this morning thinking about autumn. I'm not going to elaborate. I'm just going to post the lyrics to the two songs that popped into my mind.
"5 am, undressed
In your static, in your mess
I don't need any new voices
I'm thick enough with superstitions and choices...
Sing me sweet
sing me low
say you'll never let me go
'cause I've gone long enough
waiting for wonderful...
Just to stay like this
In the give of your lips
In the dim half-light dawn
Pinned below your undertow
When everything meant everything again
------"Sing Me Sweet"
"Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall..."
------ "Autumn Leaves"
Quick concert review: fan-freaking-tastic. He played the best of the new album, "then I'll be smiling," "loud," "church clothes," his standards from beneath these fireworks, "answering machine," "don't stop believin'," "laid," "lucky boy," and then CAME BACK after his finale to do one more song "little victories." I love him.
Still, much like jess, I was thinking about music and it's affect on me. I have songs for everyone. I have a soundtrack to my life at all times. There are songs that I equate with myself, and lyrics that i think sum me up. Like everyone, I have lyrics that I wish I associated with myself.
When this entry was first concieved, I was going to go through a bunch of songs that had to do with my life (very much in the way Graham and I spent time talking about our autobiographical songs), but now I think I'm just going to pass on that idea.
I was laying in bed this morning thinking about autumn. I'm not going to elaborate. I'm just going to post the lyrics to the two songs that popped into my mind.
"5 am, undressed
In your static, in your mess
I don't need any new voices
I'm thick enough with superstitions and choices...
Sing me sweet
sing me low
say you'll never let me go
'cause I've gone long enough
waiting for wonderful...
Just to stay like this
In the give of your lips
In the dim half-light dawn
Pinned below your undertow
When everything meant everything again
------"Sing Me Sweet"
"Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall..."
------ "Autumn Leaves"
Monday, October 08, 2007
"Why do they do it? Show up anyway?"
I went back through my livejournal a few weeks ago. There are very few things that are more humbling than going back and reading about what a loser you were in college. One thing that stuck out from my whiny brat college life, was how much fun I had hanging out with Graham. Sure there were those brief periods of awkwardness when mistakes were made, but for the most part I really do love my graham-elah. So this weekend, I packed a backpack of clothing, hopped a train, and made my way to Manchester CT. Here's a breakdown of my weekend...
"I want to travel like Duke Ellington in my own railway car..."- Ani Difranco. "Self-Evident"
I would like to start with a big "fuck you very much" to Amtrak. My train which was traveling the northeast corridor from DC to Boston (Springfield to be technical) arrived to Philly on time. I found a seat and began my journey. A half hour into the journey, the train slowed to a crawl and stopped with a shudder and ka-thunk. The electricity on the train went out, and the conductor got on the emergency PA and announced that we were having "technical difficulties." 20 minutes later, the girl in front of me (who was an '05 tfa person who still teaches in Philly) noticed a crowd of people had gathered on the side of the tracks, with fire engines and police. The engine of our train was on fire. 10 minutes later the "rescue train" showed up and we evacuated on to that (yes I spent a half hour on a train with a burning engine). The "rescue train" was just an empty NJ transit train, and it took us another hour to get everyone off the original train and on to the "rescue train." Finally we get to New York Penn Station at 8:30 p.m. I was supposed to be in Hartford, CT by 9:30. The NJ transit train dropped all of us off at Penn Station and we were basically told to fend for ourselves. So naturally the mob of angry travelers descended upon the customer service booth, and Amtrak put us on the 9:07 train to Springfield. We boarded that train and all was smooth sailing until we got to New Haven at 11:00 p.m. The electricity turned off, the train stopped (engine off) and we didn't move for 10 minutes. I called graham and loudly exclaimed "Now I'm stuck in fucking New Haven..." the expletives continued until graham hung up and we started moving 5 minutes after that. I got to graham at 11:57 p.m.
"There's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends."- Ani Difranco "Good, bad, ugly"
I assumed that once I got back to Graham's apt, we would make small talk and then opt for sleep since we both worked all day. I was wrong. It had been two years since we'd seen each other, so we started talking. And talking. And talking. And finally at 4 a.m. we gave up and decided we should sleep. For the record, graham has a beautiful apartment. True it is in a rather yuppie dorm-esque apartment building, but it really is a beautiful place.
The next morning Graham made omelets and we sat around watching episodes of TV shows that I am going to have to start watching (Curb Your Enthusiasm and Entourage) and a great "horror movie" called Behind the Mask which was thoroughly enjoyable. It was a lazy day filled with the same types of conversations Graham and I had been having for years. We talked about movies, music and books. We reminisced about old times, he showed me clips of things on the web that he discovered and needed to share. Occasionally, he picked up his guitar and we sang like we used to. It was two years of hang out time that we felt we needed to catch up on in one day. Around 4, we decided to get ready to go out to dinner with graham's gf, my ex-bf (not too random he's good friends with graham), and this gentlemen's new gf.
"Here we are again and we're looking at each other as if each other were to blame. You think your smart, but I've seen you naked... if all else fails you can blame it on me."- BNL
One of the benefits of my dating career is that I tend to have relationships with men that plan on leaving the city of Philadelphia within a certain time period, or that live elsewhere and commute to see me (such as this case). I would say that this has just been a freaky coincidence, but since my MO is to seek men that are emotionally unavailable for whatever reason, I think my subconscious finds these men more attractive. Fascinating as this thought might be, however, it is not the point. The point is with almost all of my old relationships living in different states, I rarely have to deal with meeting an ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. When Graham asked if I would object to seeing this particular ex and his new girlfriend, I agreed because it had been two years and there were really no hard feelings between us. I assumed it would be slightly awkward, but again it had been two years, HE had dumped ME, and I was okay with it so why wouldn't the other girl be okay with it. Clearly, I forgot to take into consideration the female psychie. I will not go into detail with how painful this four hour dinner was, but I will say I have never in my life sat across from another woman that wanted to see me dead more. (And I have pissed off alot of women in my life.)
"Seems like so long ago when we were carefree..."- Jamie Cullum
The rest of Saturday night into Sunday was more of the same graham and I telling stories and goofing off. Graham's gf joined in the fun, commenting on our stories and sharing her own. I like her. She's good for him. Graham and her got me addicted to The Office, and I'll now be spending time on various illegal websites attempting to watch the seasons I've missed. I finally saw Borat and this weird Canadian feminist horror movie Ginger Snaps (highly recommend it).
I don't really know what else to say about my visit. Graham and I had this conversation once in college about the people in our lives that make us crazy. They frustrate us, they make us mad, they disappoint and leave us, but they are still people that we love no matter what. He thought that this one girl was his in college. I think though that we are starting to learn that we are that person for each other. Graham makes me crazy. He frustrates me. He has disappointed me. He has left me. He has broken my heart. He is still one of my favorite people. He is still someone that I do love having in my life.
(Thus ends the longest entry EVER)
"I want to travel like Duke Ellington in my own railway car..."- Ani Difranco. "Self-Evident"
I would like to start with a big "fuck you very much" to Amtrak. My train which was traveling the northeast corridor from DC to Boston (Springfield to be technical) arrived to Philly on time. I found a seat and began my journey. A half hour into the journey, the train slowed to a crawl and stopped with a shudder and ka-thunk. The electricity on the train went out, and the conductor got on the emergency PA and announced that we were having "technical difficulties." 20 minutes later, the girl in front of me (who was an '05 tfa person who still teaches in Philly) noticed a crowd of people had gathered on the side of the tracks, with fire engines and police. The engine of our train was on fire. 10 minutes later the "rescue train" showed up and we evacuated on to that (yes I spent a half hour on a train with a burning engine). The "rescue train" was just an empty NJ transit train, and it took us another hour to get everyone off the original train and on to the "rescue train." Finally we get to New York Penn Station at 8:30 p.m. I was supposed to be in Hartford, CT by 9:30. The NJ transit train dropped all of us off at Penn Station and we were basically told to fend for ourselves. So naturally the mob of angry travelers descended upon the customer service booth, and Amtrak put us on the 9:07 train to Springfield. We boarded that train and all was smooth sailing until we got to New Haven at 11:00 p.m. The electricity turned off, the train stopped (engine off) and we didn't move for 10 minutes. I called graham and loudly exclaimed "Now I'm stuck in fucking New Haven..." the expletives continued until graham hung up and we started moving 5 minutes after that. I got to graham at 11:57 p.m.
"There's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends."- Ani Difranco "Good, bad, ugly"
I assumed that once I got back to Graham's apt, we would make small talk and then opt for sleep since we both worked all day. I was wrong. It had been two years since we'd seen each other, so we started talking. And talking. And talking. And finally at 4 a.m. we gave up and decided we should sleep. For the record, graham has a beautiful apartment. True it is in a rather yuppie dorm-esque apartment building, but it really is a beautiful place.
The next morning Graham made omelets and we sat around watching episodes of TV shows that I am going to have to start watching (Curb Your Enthusiasm and Entourage) and a great "horror movie" called Behind the Mask which was thoroughly enjoyable. It was a lazy day filled with the same types of conversations Graham and I had been having for years. We talked about movies, music and books. We reminisced about old times, he showed me clips of things on the web that he discovered and needed to share. Occasionally, he picked up his guitar and we sang like we used to. It was two years of hang out time that we felt we needed to catch up on in one day. Around 4, we decided to get ready to go out to dinner with graham's gf, my ex-bf (not too random he's good friends with graham), and this gentlemen's new gf.
"Here we are again and we're looking at each other as if each other were to blame. You think your smart, but I've seen you naked... if all else fails you can blame it on me."- BNL
One of the benefits of my dating career is that I tend to have relationships with men that plan on leaving the city of Philadelphia within a certain time period, or that live elsewhere and commute to see me (such as this case). I would say that this has just been a freaky coincidence, but since my MO is to seek men that are emotionally unavailable for whatever reason, I think my subconscious finds these men more attractive. Fascinating as this thought might be, however, it is not the point. The point is with almost all of my old relationships living in different states, I rarely have to deal with meeting an ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. When Graham asked if I would object to seeing this particular ex and his new girlfriend, I agreed because it had been two years and there were really no hard feelings between us. I assumed it would be slightly awkward, but again it had been two years, HE had dumped ME, and I was okay with it so why wouldn't the other girl be okay with it. Clearly, I forgot to take into consideration the female psychie. I will not go into detail with how painful this four hour dinner was, but I will say I have never in my life sat across from another woman that wanted to see me dead more. (And I have pissed off alot of women in my life.)
"Seems like so long ago when we were carefree..."- Jamie Cullum
The rest of Saturday night into Sunday was more of the same graham and I telling stories and goofing off. Graham's gf joined in the fun, commenting on our stories and sharing her own. I like her. She's good for him. Graham and her got me addicted to The Office, and I'll now be spending time on various illegal websites attempting to watch the seasons I've missed. I finally saw Borat and this weird Canadian feminist horror movie Ginger Snaps (highly recommend it).
I don't really know what else to say about my visit. Graham and I had this conversation once in college about the people in our lives that make us crazy. They frustrate us, they make us mad, they disappoint and leave us, but they are still people that we love no matter what. He thought that this one girl was his in college. I think though that we are starting to learn that we are that person for each other. Graham makes me crazy. He frustrates me. He has disappointed me. He has left me. He has broken my heart. He is still one of my favorite people. He is still someone that I do love having in my life.
(Thus ends the longest entry EVER)
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Holding the Universe Together
In a given week I get about thirty to forty emails from my three closest friends. We hit reply all, and spend any free moment we get sending small details from our day across the internet to all parts of philadelphia, the burbs, and cleveland. We rant about our jobs, tell stories, and offer advice about current problems. It's the only way we can manage our crazy schedules to maintain the strong bond we created a long time ago.
The concept of Liquid Nails was a joke born out of Amanda's drunken declaration that after our college graduation we would never see each other again, and Angie's calming logic that our friendship was the strongest force on earth, kind of like Liquid Nails. (We, also, cause neurological damage in california apparently.) Graduation happened, our lives really began and in our fits of life and email the three of us developed another strong bond with the one that really keeps us together (because emailing is what she does best).
Now we are four. We each have a different thing that connects us to each other. For Jess and I, it is our ability to talk for hours. For Angie and I, it's our desire for something greater in our lives, and our slight bitterness (let's be honest). For Amanda and I, it's so many things and so much history (after all, she and I were friends first).
I bring them up now, almost four years after our first drunken declaration of friendship, because of their uncanny ways of knowing what i need in my life. From the emails that keep me sane between classes, the phone message that tells me that i didn't, in fact, embarrass myself while I was out at the bar, or just the acceptance of me when I need that love and acceptance the most. Thinking about it now, they really do hold my universe together.
"I act like I have faith, and like that faith never ends, but I really just have friends."
The concept of Liquid Nails was a joke born out of Amanda's drunken declaration that after our college graduation we would never see each other again, and Angie's calming logic that our friendship was the strongest force on earth, kind of like Liquid Nails. (We, also, cause neurological damage in california apparently.) Graduation happened, our lives really began and in our fits of life and email the three of us developed another strong bond with the one that really keeps us together (because emailing is what she does best).
Now we are four. We each have a different thing that connects us to each other. For Jess and I, it is our ability to talk for hours. For Angie and I, it's our desire for something greater in our lives, and our slight bitterness (let's be honest). For Amanda and I, it's so many things and so much history (after all, she and I were friends first).
I bring them up now, almost four years after our first drunken declaration of friendship, because of their uncanny ways of knowing what i need in my life. From the emails that keep me sane between classes, the phone message that tells me that i didn't, in fact, embarrass myself while I was out at the bar, or just the acceptance of me when I need that love and acceptance the most. Thinking about it now, they really do hold my universe together.
"I act like I have faith, and like that faith never ends, but I really just have friends."
Sunday, September 16, 2007
All we are we are.
I found a person on facebook who I hadn't talked to in almost seven years. Very common for facebook, we all find people here and there from our pasts, and "friend" them for no apparent reason. It's essentially a great big high school reunion, only less alcohol and less pressure to actually speak to people. It opens up a strange floodgate of emotion for me to re-meet people that I once knew so well. This person and I went to middle school together, and spent three or so years together in BBYO. We used to exchange writing, and occasional witty conversation. He was smarter than me (still is), but yet was rarely if ever the type of person to make me feel dumb. After reconnecting on facebook, he encouraged me to call him. So tonight, I did. Terrified, I dialed the number. I don't like the phone. I'm a writer by nature. I sound better on paper than I can ever express in words, and tonight the 20 minute conversation we had proved this point. It was, without a doubt, the most awkward conversation I have ever had.
We talked unelaborately about many things; college majors, writing, teaching, and americorps. (Side note: I am starting to embrace the semi-colon after years of hating it.) We touched lightly on my disdain for Gaithersburg and his love of it. We forced casual small talk, and at the end of the call I was left feeling... awkward and uncertain and somewhat embarrassed. I'm not necessarily sure why. I always feel weird when I talk to people I grew up with. It always leads me into a moment of asking myself: Who am I? Really? Am I the same person I've always been? Have I changed drastically? How do I define myself now? So here I am, about to tell you all (who know and love me on some weird level, or else you wouldn't read this) how I describe myself these days.
I walk when I'm contemplative; I clean when I'm sad; I sing when I'm angry; I sleep when I'm stressed. I drink too much coffee. I've been known to drink too much alcohol. I laugh at inappropriate jokes. I love my friends. I am terrible at keeping in touch. I believe education can be the great equalizer. I work a lot. I play a lot too. I love the ocean. I love books. I hate the phone. I have a cat, but no roommate. I am terrible in relationships. I find wisdom in songs. I don't dance, I bop. I can be catty. I, occasionally, have pedestrian rage. I am a forced extrovert. I love Philadelphia. I have a special place in my heart for broadway musicals. I daydream a lot. I sometimes feel like I ran away from home when I was 20. I want to see the world. I don't know how to drive. I'm an idealist, but not an optimist. I might be the same person that I was at 15, but I try really hard not to be.
And that's me.
We talked unelaborately about many things; college majors, writing, teaching, and americorps. (Side note: I am starting to embrace the semi-colon after years of hating it.) We touched lightly on my disdain for Gaithersburg and his love of it. We forced casual small talk, and at the end of the call I was left feeling... awkward and uncertain and somewhat embarrassed. I'm not necessarily sure why. I always feel weird when I talk to people I grew up with. It always leads me into a moment of asking myself: Who am I? Really? Am I the same person I've always been? Have I changed drastically? How do I define myself now? So here I am, about to tell you all (who know and love me on some weird level, or else you wouldn't read this) how I describe myself these days.
I walk when I'm contemplative; I clean when I'm sad; I sing when I'm angry; I sleep when I'm stressed. I drink too much coffee. I've been known to drink too much alcohol. I laugh at inappropriate jokes. I love my friends. I am terrible at keeping in touch. I believe education can be the great equalizer. I work a lot. I play a lot too. I love the ocean. I love books. I hate the phone. I have a cat, but no roommate. I am terrible in relationships. I find wisdom in songs. I don't dance, I bop. I can be catty. I, occasionally, have pedestrian rage. I am a forced extrovert. I love Philadelphia. I have a special place in my heart for broadway musicals. I daydream a lot. I sometimes feel like I ran away from home when I was 20. I want to see the world. I don't know how to drive. I'm an idealist, but not an optimist. I might be the same person that I was at 15, but I try really hard not to be.
And that's me.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Broke into the old apartment...
I live in chaos. I always have. I am not a neat person. I'm not a slob, I just creat clutter. That's what makes home to me.
I've been thinking recently about the places I've lived since I moved to Philadelphia after college three years go. (July 3rd marked the three year anniversary.) I've been thinking about my four apartments and five roommates. I loved the apartment on Christian St. with it's minimal furniture, and transient roommates. It's proximity to everything, and it's multicolored living room. I loved the front porch on Spruce St., but mostly loved the company I kept on that front porch. I loved Hazel Ave. though everyone makes fun of my time at "50th and shoot you in the face". It was a small apartment that had a lot of character. I think I just loved living with Elena.
Now, though, I actually feel at home in this fourth apartment.. I have pictures on the walls, and furniture from Gaithersburg. Three years, three apartments, five roommates later... I am comfortable saying that have found a home in Philly.
I've been thinking recently about the places I've lived since I moved to Philadelphia after college three years go. (July 3rd marked the three year anniversary.) I've been thinking about my four apartments and five roommates. I loved the apartment on Christian St. with it's minimal furniture, and transient roommates. It's proximity to everything, and it's multicolored living room. I loved the front porch on Spruce St., but mostly loved the company I kept on that front porch. I loved Hazel Ave. though everyone makes fun of my time at "50th and shoot you in the face". It was a small apartment that had a lot of character. I think I just loved living with Elena.
Now, though, I actually feel at home in this fourth apartment.. I have pictures on the walls, and furniture from Gaithersburg. Three years, three apartments, five roommates later... I am comfortable saying that have found a home in Philly.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
"They all think I'm easy, well I'm easy, 'cause I let them win..."
A month ago, Jess chastised me with, "Would you update your blog? You're a writer for christsake!" Well, better late then never I guess, but there's not a whole lot to report.
I have almost completed my first summer off. I did not work at all this summer, with the exception of some curriculum work that I did from home. I got to travel a little bit, and read books for fun for the first time in a long while.
I went to visit my mother in Colorado. A beautiful place of mountains and small towns. She's happy there, which makes me happy, though it's not as convenient to visit as Gaithersburg. A few weeks later I ventured down to North Carolina with my Dad, Step-Mom and the gaggle of stepsiblings and other related types. It astounds me how much Duck, NC has changed since I was a little kid, and yet it astounds me how it has stayed the same. I read books that week, and window shopped at the same places I did throughout elementary school.
Since I last wrote, I started and ended a relationship which was very "when it was good it was very very good and when it was bad it was horrid." It's over though, and now I'm convinced that I'm going to wind up alone with cats. I'm getting more okay with that.
On August 27, I go back to school and my students arrive a week later. Year #2 will begin as will my attempt to make year 2 better than year 1. I want to learn from my mistakes. I want to have classroom management (or something that resembles classroom management). I want my kids to actually read a book. Who knows? I just want to get back to work.
Some reviews (in case you care...):
Book:
The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen- I liked it, but not as much as I thought I would based on the reviews that I read of it. The characters are deep and complex, the family dynamics are very real, but the actually plot is... drawn out. It was a good read though. (Note: it makes
Heart Shaped Box by Joe Hill- No it's not about Kurt Cobain. Really quick read, but a good ghost story. Aging rock star (ala Ozzy Osborne) has a fetish for the occult and buys a "ghost" off ebay. Thinks it's a joke, but then weird things start happening. Seems contrite, but actually it's done well.
What the Dead Know by Laura Lippman- It's been a while since I went out and bought everything an author has written, but this chick rocks. Two sisters go missing one afternoon at the mall in Baltimore county. Thirty years later, long after they are presumed dead, a woman claiming to be the younger sister is involved in a hit and run accident. Good characters, good plot twists, all and all a great story.
Okay...
I have almost completed my first summer off. I did not work at all this summer, with the exception of some curriculum work that I did from home. I got to travel a little bit, and read books for fun for the first time in a long while.
I went to visit my mother in Colorado. A beautiful place of mountains and small towns. She's happy there, which makes me happy, though it's not as convenient to visit as Gaithersburg. A few weeks later I ventured down to North Carolina with my Dad, Step-Mom and the gaggle of stepsiblings and other related types. It astounds me how much Duck, NC has changed since I was a little kid, and yet it astounds me how it has stayed the same. I read books that week, and window shopped at the same places I did throughout elementary school.
Since I last wrote, I started and ended a relationship which was very "when it was good it was very very good and when it was bad it was horrid." It's over though, and now I'm convinced that I'm going to wind up alone with cats. I'm getting more okay with that.
On August 27, I go back to school and my students arrive a week later. Year #2 will begin as will my attempt to make year 2 better than year 1. I want to learn from my mistakes. I want to have classroom management (or something that resembles classroom management). I want my kids to actually read a book. Who knows? I just want to get back to work.
Some reviews (in case you care...):
Book:
The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen- I liked it, but not as much as I thought I would based on the reviews that I read of it. The characters are deep and complex, the family dynamics are very real, but the actually plot is... drawn out. It was a good read though. (Note: it makes
Heart Shaped Box by Joe Hill- No it's not about Kurt Cobain. Really quick read, but a good ghost story. Aging rock star (ala Ozzy Osborne) has a fetish for the occult and buys a "ghost" off ebay. Thinks it's a joke, but then weird things start happening. Seems contrite, but actually it's done well.
What the Dead Know by Laura Lippman- It's been a while since I went out and bought everything an author has written, but this chick rocks. Two sisters go missing one afternoon at the mall in Baltimore county. Thirty years later, long after they are presumed dead, a woman claiming to be the younger sister is involved in a hit and run accident. Good characters, good plot twists, all and all a great story.
Okay...
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Family rituals and fading memories
This morning I woke up, made coffee, toasted a bagel, and sat down to watch CBS Sunday Morning. As I sipped my coffee and learned about chuck close, the youngest big city mayor, david stienberg, and old people roller skating my mind began to wander and I started thinking about my grandma.
At some point in my childhood, my grandma put a little black and white TV in her kitchen so she could watch the news while she cooked. Soon after she complained that she needed a color TV for the kitchen so she could get the full effect of the nature scenes on Sunday Morning. (The "moment of zen" on the Daily Show is a parody of the end of Sunday Morning where they show nature scenes.) My grandma was a woman of rituals. CBS Sunday Morning was a ritual for her. She would get up, make her black coffee, and watch and learn about the world around her.
Most people would call her a woman of habit, but I like to think of her life as classier than just habit. She held everything together through her rituals. She made the same style of dinner for my pop-pop every night. A cup of canned fruit, the meal, and then ice cream in a custard dish. She told the same stories at the same time of the year; birthdays, holidays, summer vacations, election years, etc. She read me the same bedtime story until well into my elementary school years. She made the same date nut bread holiday season. This consistency I am convinced at this point in time held my father's family together. Even today, the holidays with them are not complete until someone makes candied yams in the blue pot like she did every year. When she died and no one was there to tell her stories, make her food, continue the traditions the way she did, my father's family couldn't deal with it. Grandma's rituals and her consistency stay with me, in a way that I desperately wish I could emulate. I long for the ability to oganize the way she did, and keep the same rituals alive. I just don't have that strength and that discipline.
The realization of exactly how much my family depended on her didn't hit me until I was sitting on the couch watching sunday morning smiling and wishing that I had a sunday copy of the Washington Post as well. The problem is that the aniversary of grandma's death is a little under three weeks away, and my memory of her house, her life, and my childhood is slowly fading. There are somethings I will never forget. But for as much as I remember, the edges are starting to get fuzzy. Her voice stays with me, but her apperance slowly blends into pictures that span decades. The layout of her house, the furinture, the smell all slowly melt and move together and I can't remember what was the most recent.
Grandma passed away from colon cancer on March 3o, 1998. I was 15. Her death was increibly hard for me to deal with. As I sit her now on this sunday morning, thinking about our rituals and stories I can't help but hope that where ever my grandmother is now that she can see me and is proud of the person I've become.
At some point in my childhood, my grandma put a little black and white TV in her kitchen so she could watch the news while she cooked. Soon after she complained that she needed a color TV for the kitchen so she could get the full effect of the nature scenes on Sunday Morning. (The "moment of zen" on the Daily Show is a parody of the end of Sunday Morning where they show nature scenes.) My grandma was a woman of rituals. CBS Sunday Morning was a ritual for her. She would get up, make her black coffee, and watch and learn about the world around her.
Most people would call her a woman of habit, but I like to think of her life as classier than just habit. She held everything together through her rituals. She made the same style of dinner for my pop-pop every night. A cup of canned fruit, the meal, and then ice cream in a custard dish. She told the same stories at the same time of the year; birthdays, holidays, summer vacations, election years, etc. She read me the same bedtime story until well into my elementary school years. She made the same date nut bread holiday season. This consistency I am convinced at this point in time held my father's family together. Even today, the holidays with them are not complete until someone makes candied yams in the blue pot like she did every year. When she died and no one was there to tell her stories, make her food, continue the traditions the way she did, my father's family couldn't deal with it. Grandma's rituals and her consistency stay with me, in a way that I desperately wish I could emulate. I long for the ability to oganize the way she did, and keep the same rituals alive. I just don't have that strength and that discipline.
The realization of exactly how much my family depended on her didn't hit me until I was sitting on the couch watching sunday morning smiling and wishing that I had a sunday copy of the Washington Post as well. The problem is that the aniversary of grandma's death is a little under three weeks away, and my memory of her house, her life, and my childhood is slowly fading. There are somethings I will never forget. But for as much as I remember, the edges are starting to get fuzzy. Her voice stays with me, but her apperance slowly blends into pictures that span decades. The layout of her house, the furinture, the smell all slowly melt and move together and I can't remember what was the most recent.
Grandma passed away from colon cancer on March 3o, 1998. I was 15. Her death was increibly hard for me to deal with. As I sit her now on this sunday morning, thinking about our rituals and stories I can't help but hope that where ever my grandmother is now that she can see me and is proud of the person I've become.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
"Nothing else makes such a desperate sound..."
I had a one on one with the principal today. We have to sit and talk about our year and what we'd like for the following year. Somehow we got on the topic of Americorps (i think because i was trying to explain how Americorps and La Salle are fucking me over), and I started talking about my experiences with CY. Suddenly I heard myself, rambling away with no real point. I felt 15 again. That awkward talking where you know that the person isn't really interested but you keep going. Cringe-worthy moment.
Ooooh good song just came on my playlist.
I was going to write more, but I think I am just going to post the soundtrack to life right now and let other people's words speak for me.
"I still love what I know/I love to ride alone and sing a song and listen to the radio/You can ride alone and if you change your mind, well, that's just fine/But there is somethin' that you got to know/Just don't ask me for the for the truth if you choose to lie honey/And don't try to open my door with your skeleton key/Some folks seem to think I only got one problem/I can't find nobody as crazy as me." (Crazy as Me - Alison Krauss)
"Baby said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine, and a fail to kiss is a fail to cope. I said, 'Honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel justified, come on put a little love here in my void.' He said, 'It's all in your head,' and I said, 'So's everything.' But he didn't get it." (Paper Bag - Fiona Apple)
"Cynical town can be tough on an angel, clips her wings baby 1, 2, 3..." (See Her Smile - Tick Tick Boom)
Ooooh good song just came on my playlist.
I was going to write more, but I think I am just going to post the soundtrack to life right now and let other people's words speak for me.
"I still love what I know/I love to ride alone and sing a song and listen to the radio/You can ride alone and if you change your mind, well, that's just fine/But there is somethin' that you got to know/Just don't ask me for the for the truth if you choose to lie honey/And don't try to open my door with your skeleton key/Some folks seem to think I only got one problem/I can't find nobody as crazy as me." (Crazy as Me - Alison Krauss)
"Baby said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine, and a fail to kiss is a fail to cope. I said, 'Honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel justified, come on put a little love here in my void.' He said, 'It's all in your head,' and I said, 'So's everything.' But he didn't get it." (Paper Bag - Fiona Apple)
"Cynical town can be tough on an angel, clips her wings baby 1, 2, 3..." (See Her Smile - Tick Tick Boom)
Monday, January 01, 2007
"And if the world decides to catch up with me, it's a little victory..."
Welcome to 2007. Out with the old in with the new... Or maybe a little bit of stability and status quo for the new year.
2006 was a year of transition for me. It was a year that was in flux from almost the moment it started.
January was packing up my little South Philly apartment and preparing to move to West Philly. I quit my lights of liberty job, and prepared to teach SAT Prep to high schoolers.
February, moving day, adapting to life in West Philly, planning CY projects.
March - April saw me working on two of the largest project I'd ever undertaken: The library rennaissance and the college fair. It also had me frantically searching for jobs.
May - The library project finally ended, and I got my first job. My little brother graduated from college.
June- Was on TRL (looking bored apparently). Two years at CY ended. Ended my first real functional relationship.
July- Terrible month of working at a day care, and getting ready to move again. Had a couple decadent weekends with Danielle in there though where we met a man with sandwiches tatooed on his arms and took fishtown by storm.
August- Moved again this time deeper into West Philly, started working at Mariana Bracetti.
September- December- First year teacher life. Constantly in flux.
December - Got Latina eyed for the Jewish Girl (Elena and i went shopping and i learned that there are clothes that actually look good on me!). Got a PA State ID. Got a philadelphia cell phone number (after a jackass stole my old phone at a party).
With a year of changes behind me, I would like my life to regain some sense of calm. I want to spend this year figuring things out. Getting my act together. I want to be organized. I want the messiness of my life to sort itself out. These aren't new year's resolutions per se. They are mearly my hopes for the upcoming year, along with the hope that we (friends, family, myself) will all be healthy and happy.
Happy new year.
2006 was a year of transition for me. It was a year that was in flux from almost the moment it started.
January was packing up my little South Philly apartment and preparing to move to West Philly. I quit my lights of liberty job, and prepared to teach SAT Prep to high schoolers.
February, moving day, adapting to life in West Philly, planning CY projects.
March - April saw me working on two of the largest project I'd ever undertaken: The library rennaissance and the college fair. It also had me frantically searching for jobs.
May - The library project finally ended, and I got my first job. My little brother graduated from college.
June- Was on TRL (looking bored apparently). Two years at CY ended. Ended my first real functional relationship.
July- Terrible month of working at a day care, and getting ready to move again. Had a couple decadent weekends with Danielle in there though where we met a man with sandwiches tatooed on his arms and took fishtown by storm.
August- Moved again this time deeper into West Philly, started working at Mariana Bracetti.
September- December- First year teacher life. Constantly in flux.
December - Got Latina eyed for the Jewish Girl (Elena and i went shopping and i learned that there are clothes that actually look good on me!). Got a PA State ID. Got a philadelphia cell phone number (after a jackass stole my old phone at a party).
With a year of changes behind me, I would like my life to regain some sense of calm. I want to spend this year figuring things out. Getting my act together. I want to be organized. I want the messiness of my life to sort itself out. These aren't new year's resolutions per se. They are mearly my hopes for the upcoming year, along with the hope that we (friends, family, myself) will all be healthy and happy.
Happy new year.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
"Cause you make such a beautiful wreck you do..."
One of the perks of teaching is that I am in the middle of my winter break. Sure I've got papers to grade, lessons to plan, and books to read, but I was actually able to go home to Maryland and stay for almost five days. Today I got to spend the day in the city running errands, seeing movies, and shopping for 8 dollar boob accentuating tops.
Typically I don't go home to reconnect with people I once knew. A lot of people that I once knew don't always understand or like who I've become, and I get tired of trying to explain my new life and new paths. This visit home though was filled with people I once knew and a life long since left behind. Tuesday, I went out with my friend Kalenn, her husband of five years Kris, and their 11 month old baby Liesel. It was surreal. We sat in the booth at the diner discussing the DC metro area, Utah, Philadelphia and diversity while the baby cooed and gnawed on crackers and fruit. I've known Kalenn since we were 9 years old and taking piano lessons. We'd gone exploring in creeks together, passed notes in English class, danced in theater dressing rooms, and giggled evenings away. We never really realized how different our lives were. She grew up a strict mormon, and I a reform Jew with an atheist father.
At one point we drove to Rajvi's house. We had been a bad joke growing up: A mormon, a Jew, and a Hindu (walk into a bar... OW!) We ran to the side door, the same way we had when we were in elementary school with the same question dancing on our lips "Is Rajvi home??" She wasn't.
Later that day, we met up with Katie who had spent the day trying on wedding dresses. We all chatted about our respective lives and perspective futures.
Wednesday, I met up with Rajvi finally. It had been maybe five years since I'd last seen her. We talked about her boyfriend who was expected to be her fiancee in a few months. We talked about school. We reminiced about our childhood.
I learned something very profound in my tine with these ladies. In a lot of respects I have things complete under control. I have a good job doing what I love. I have a great apartment. I have my friends that I love. In a lot of other ways I am a beautiful wreck.
Day to day, I get a little sappy about my lack of love life. My mother tries to ask me about my most recent failed relationship and smooths things over with "well at least you were in love" type sentiments. The big thing I realized is that I never thought about being in love until this week. At 24, with so many people around me in serious committed relationships (in this entry I have not mentioned spending two days with a good friend in committed relationship of 2 years, my step-sister's boyfriend of 2 years spending christmas with my family, and my cousin's girlfriend of... 2 years... spending christmas with my family) I realize that I... I never really think about love in the long term. I mean if my ex hadn't run off to North Carolina I think we'd probably still be together, but I never planned for it. When I plan for the future I never think about anyone being there with me. I never think about marriage or kids or even "living in sin" with another person. I wonder what is wrong with me. I had friends in college who used to talk about their ideal weddings, and I could barely participate expcept to say that I like the outdoors and roses because they're my birth flower. My grandmother always told me not to get married until I had my life figured out. As my life slowly works its way into figured out, have I wasted too much time to get the love part figured out too?
Typically I don't go home to reconnect with people I once knew. A lot of people that I once knew don't always understand or like who I've become, and I get tired of trying to explain my new life and new paths. This visit home though was filled with people I once knew and a life long since left behind. Tuesday, I went out with my friend Kalenn, her husband of five years Kris, and their 11 month old baby Liesel. It was surreal. We sat in the booth at the diner discussing the DC metro area, Utah, Philadelphia and diversity while the baby cooed and gnawed on crackers and fruit. I've known Kalenn since we were 9 years old and taking piano lessons. We'd gone exploring in creeks together, passed notes in English class, danced in theater dressing rooms, and giggled evenings away. We never really realized how different our lives were. She grew up a strict mormon, and I a reform Jew with an atheist father.
At one point we drove to Rajvi's house. We had been a bad joke growing up: A mormon, a Jew, and a Hindu (walk into a bar... OW!) We ran to the side door, the same way we had when we were in elementary school with the same question dancing on our lips "Is Rajvi home??" She wasn't.
Later that day, we met up with Katie who had spent the day trying on wedding dresses. We all chatted about our respective lives and perspective futures.
Wednesday, I met up with Rajvi finally. It had been maybe five years since I'd last seen her. We talked about her boyfriend who was expected to be her fiancee in a few months. We talked about school. We reminiced about our childhood.
I learned something very profound in my tine with these ladies. In a lot of respects I have things complete under control. I have a good job doing what I love. I have a great apartment. I have my friends that I love. In a lot of other ways I am a beautiful wreck.
Day to day, I get a little sappy about my lack of love life. My mother tries to ask me about my most recent failed relationship and smooths things over with "well at least you were in love" type sentiments. The big thing I realized is that I never thought about being in love until this week. At 24, with so many people around me in serious committed relationships (in this entry I have not mentioned spending two days with a good friend in committed relationship of 2 years, my step-sister's boyfriend of 2 years spending christmas with my family, and my cousin's girlfriend of... 2 years... spending christmas with my family) I realize that I... I never really think about love in the long term. I mean if my ex hadn't run off to North Carolina I think we'd probably still be together, but I never planned for it. When I plan for the future I never think about anyone being there with me. I never think about marriage or kids or even "living in sin" with another person. I wonder what is wrong with me. I had friends in college who used to talk about their ideal weddings, and I could barely participate expcept to say that I like the outdoors and roses because they're my birth flower. My grandmother always told me not to get married until I had my life figured out. As my life slowly works its way into figured out, have I wasted too much time to get the love part figured out too?
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
I found Amy's Blog
So I rarely do shit like this anymore... but it's more interesting than grading...
If your life was a movie, what would the soundtrack be?
How to do it:1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc).2. Put it on Shuffle.3. Press Play.4. For every question, type the song that's playing.5. When you go to a new question, press the next button.6. Be honest.
My life is: Heaven Help Me
OPENING CREDITS
Cyndi Lauper- "Time After Time"
I picture bad 80's hair do's and diary writing. Oh yeah, and there's rain, lots and lots of rain.
WAKING UP
Howie Day- "She Says"
Okay so the beginning of the song is about waking up, but so far my movie is really freakin' whiny.
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Pat McGee Band- Runaway
It could be worse i guess.
FALLING IN LOVE
The Bloodhound Gang- "Lift your head up high and blow your brains out."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA... wow. I have nothing else to say to this.
FIGHT SONG
Fiona Apple- "Fast as you can"
Okay this is kinda cool.
BREAKING UP
Sarah Mclachlan- "Terms of Endearment"
I would be with the guy who doesn't really want to be with me, but won't tell me so we wind up having a really fucked up break-up. (There's a bitter joke to be made here about my relationship senior year at la salle...)
PROM
Tori Amos- Mother
I can dig this. It's very a melancholy coming of age song... just very final. Not very happy "yay prom."
LIFE IS GOOD
Rolling Stones- Wild Horses
Umm... okay?
MENTAL BREAKDOWN
Halifax- Snow in Hollywood
The lyrics totally don't fit with a mental breakdown, but I can totally see myself going stark raving mad and breaking shit to this song.
DRIVING
Eddie From Ohio- Clear and Present Danger
I don't know.
FLASHBACK
Deana Carter- "We danced anyway"
This fits! YAY! It's actually a song about flashbacks.
GETTING BACK TOGETHER
Goo Goo Dolls- Iris
Yes I do have the sappiest music collection known to human kind.
WEDDING
Cake- Short skirt, long jacket
There's something really cool about this being the wedding song. Short white dress, long black jacket... very mod.
FINAL BATTLE
Counting Crows- A Murder of One
Nice :)
DEATH SCENE
Matt Nathanson- Sad Songs
I just love this song... and if I had to pick a song for my death scene, i think this would be nice.
FUNERAL SONG
BoDeans- Naked
Um.... I hope not.
END CREDITS
Guster- Two Points for Honesty
This was a productive way to spend my night... ha.
If your life was a movie, what would the soundtrack be?
How to do it:1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc).2. Put it on Shuffle.3. Press Play.4. For every question, type the song that's playing.5. When you go to a new question, press the next button.6. Be honest.
My life is: Heaven Help Me
OPENING CREDITS
Cyndi Lauper- "Time After Time"
I picture bad 80's hair do's and diary writing. Oh yeah, and there's rain, lots and lots of rain.
WAKING UP
Howie Day- "She Says"
Okay so the beginning of the song is about waking up, but so far my movie is really freakin' whiny.
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Pat McGee Band- Runaway
It could be worse i guess.
FALLING IN LOVE
The Bloodhound Gang- "Lift your head up high and blow your brains out."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA... wow. I have nothing else to say to this.
FIGHT SONG
Fiona Apple- "Fast as you can"
Okay this is kinda cool.
BREAKING UP
Sarah Mclachlan- "Terms of Endearment"
I would be with the guy who doesn't really want to be with me, but won't tell me so we wind up having a really fucked up break-up. (There's a bitter joke to be made here about my relationship senior year at la salle...)
PROM
Tori Amos- Mother
I can dig this. It's very a melancholy coming of age song... just very final. Not very happy "yay prom."
LIFE IS GOOD
Rolling Stones- Wild Horses
Umm... okay?
MENTAL BREAKDOWN
Halifax- Snow in Hollywood
The lyrics totally don't fit with a mental breakdown, but I can totally see myself going stark raving mad and breaking shit to this song.
DRIVING
Eddie From Ohio- Clear and Present Danger
I don't know.
FLASHBACK
Deana Carter- "We danced anyway"
This fits! YAY! It's actually a song about flashbacks.
GETTING BACK TOGETHER
Goo Goo Dolls- Iris
Yes I do have the sappiest music collection known to human kind.
WEDDING
Cake- Short skirt, long jacket
There's something really cool about this being the wedding song. Short white dress, long black jacket... very mod.
FINAL BATTLE
Counting Crows- A Murder of One
Nice :)
DEATH SCENE
Matt Nathanson- Sad Songs
I just love this song... and if I had to pick a song for my death scene, i think this would be nice.
FUNERAL SONG
BoDeans- Naked
Um.... I hope not.
END CREDITS
Guster- Two Points for Honesty
This was a productive way to spend my night... ha.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
"You're only as loud as the noises you make."
Tonight I saw a play. I've seen a number of plays in my life. Community, high school, professional you name it... I've never had this reaction to a play before. Even my first show ever, Crazy For You, while it sparked a love of theater that exists today, it did not invoke this kind of stay up past bed time thought process that i am getting through right now.
I just saw My Children! My Africa! by Athol Fugard at the Wilma. The acting was great, but the script is what has captured my thoughts. It was a play about South Africa in 1984. It was about substandard racist education in a society that needed change. There were three characters; three opinons on how that change needed to come about. The teacher looked at education as the way for change. To teach students the language and the words they needed to create change. He makes this beautiful speech about the gift of language and oration. There's the black student who is angry and sees change occuring only by protest and force. There's the privleged white student who looks at change as happening by forming friendships and seeing things from the other perspective. She's naive and somewhat ignorant to the world around her. These characters resonated with me. Within them I saw so much of current philadelphia. The substandard education that essentially makes sure that our students will never rise to the place they can go. The teachers like myself who want to work within it because we keep the hope that education can be the great equalizer. Believing somehow that if our students learn the language of change that they can become the change they want to see. Knowing deep down that the lessons they are learning are not about them, and struggling to show them why they should know it. The naive people who don't truely understand what is going on, but know a change should occur. And in the student that believed that the substandard education and inequality could only be erased by protest and fighting I see so many of my students.
I want to bring them to see this show, I want to make them read it, to show them all the sides. To let them see and compare these students' lives to their own. I want to make the teachers i work with read it and discuss it. I want others to see the sides of an argument that people ignore in this city.
Never in the 12 years that I have been in love with the stage, and the 19 years I've been in love with the written word have I felt this... engulfed... by a play.
More after I buy the play tomorrow and read it over and over again.
I just saw My Children! My Africa! by Athol Fugard at the Wilma. The acting was great, but the script is what has captured my thoughts. It was a play about South Africa in 1984. It was about substandard racist education in a society that needed change. There were three characters; three opinons on how that change needed to come about. The teacher looked at education as the way for change. To teach students the language and the words they needed to create change. He makes this beautiful speech about the gift of language and oration. There's the black student who is angry and sees change occuring only by protest and force. There's the privleged white student who looks at change as happening by forming friendships and seeing things from the other perspective. She's naive and somewhat ignorant to the world around her. These characters resonated with me. Within them I saw so much of current philadelphia. The substandard education that essentially makes sure that our students will never rise to the place they can go. The teachers like myself who want to work within it because we keep the hope that education can be the great equalizer. Believing somehow that if our students learn the language of change that they can become the change they want to see. Knowing deep down that the lessons they are learning are not about them, and struggling to show them why they should know it. The naive people who don't truely understand what is going on, but know a change should occur. And in the student that believed that the substandard education and inequality could only be erased by protest and fighting I see so many of my students.
I want to bring them to see this show, I want to make them read it, to show them all the sides. To let them see and compare these students' lives to their own. I want to make the teachers i work with read it and discuss it. I want others to see the sides of an argument that people ignore in this city.
Never in the 12 years that I have been in love with the stage, and the 19 years I've been in love with the written word have I felt this... engulfed... by a play.
More after I buy the play tomorrow and read it over and over again.
Monday, October 23, 2006
"The hardest to learn was the least complicated..."
I officially started teaching on September 5th. Since that point my life has been a series of misadventures, mistakes, and mis-steps. Last week I only really had to teach two days out of the week due to state mandated testing, yet that week was the first week that I actually felt confident in the school. For the first time in a month and a half I actually believed that I belonged there. This was only complicated by my increasingly complicated personal life.
"I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy/What is closer to the truth/That if I lived till I was 102/I just don't think I'll ever get over you."
I had a visitor last week, he spent it sleeping on my couch. We spent it making the same jokes we'd made for two years. Playing skip-bo and watching tv, running to catch busses, playing quizzo, talking about life, sharing silly stories on the porch while he smoked and I sat breathing in the cool night air and the acrid smell of nicotine. Occasionally our hands would touch and we'd retract them quickly, or let them linger with a tired sigh. It was comfortable to have him here, yet simultaneously frustrating and emotionally draining. Not enough time had passed to dull the ache, and yet so much time had passed that we couldn't go back to where we'd been. I cried alot this week, because I'm a silly girl. In a moment of clarity mixed with red wine, I walked him to the trolley. My goodbye was more final than I had intended the week to end. He's still going to be the first person that i've ever said "I love you" to and meant it. He's still going to be the only person I can share my bucket of crazy with, but it's time to let go of the hope that I'm going to get a call in a year to move to detroit. He's going to go back and live his life, and I am going to start re-living my life here. I will still call every so often to make sure that he's still alive, but once a week is too much too soon. So in this walk to the trolley, I kissed him goodbye. Our first kiss of the week, and the last for who knows how long. And with that, I am going to close that chapter.
"Stones taught me to fly/Love taught me to cry/So come on courage/Teach me to be shy/'Cause it's not hard to fall/And I don't wanna lose/It's not hard to grow/When you know that you just don't know"
There's so much more to say about the state of my life right now. Teaching, learning, and growing up. My kids teach me new things everyday. My fellow teachers constantly teach me new things about myself, and my new found career path. For everyday I grow up, I grow down ever so slightly. It's far to difficult to get into at this point in time.
I'm not unhappy, I'm just still learning.
In other news... if you were still wondering if santorum was an ass... here's some more proof.
http://www.phillyburbs.com/pb-dyn/news/111-10172006-728120.html
goodnight.
"I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy/What is closer to the truth/That if I lived till I was 102/I just don't think I'll ever get over you."
I had a visitor last week, he spent it sleeping on my couch. We spent it making the same jokes we'd made for two years. Playing skip-bo and watching tv, running to catch busses, playing quizzo, talking about life, sharing silly stories on the porch while he smoked and I sat breathing in the cool night air and the acrid smell of nicotine. Occasionally our hands would touch and we'd retract them quickly, or let them linger with a tired sigh. It was comfortable to have him here, yet simultaneously frustrating and emotionally draining. Not enough time had passed to dull the ache, and yet so much time had passed that we couldn't go back to where we'd been. I cried alot this week, because I'm a silly girl. In a moment of clarity mixed with red wine, I walked him to the trolley. My goodbye was more final than I had intended the week to end. He's still going to be the first person that i've ever said "I love you" to and meant it. He's still going to be the only person I can share my bucket of crazy with, but it's time to let go of the hope that I'm going to get a call in a year to move to detroit. He's going to go back and live his life, and I am going to start re-living my life here. I will still call every so often to make sure that he's still alive, but once a week is too much too soon. So in this walk to the trolley, I kissed him goodbye. Our first kiss of the week, and the last for who knows how long. And with that, I am going to close that chapter.
"Stones taught me to fly/Love taught me to cry/So come on courage/Teach me to be shy/'Cause it's not hard to fall/And I don't wanna lose/It's not hard to grow/When you know that you just don't know"
There's so much more to say about the state of my life right now. Teaching, learning, and growing up. My kids teach me new things everyday. My fellow teachers constantly teach me new things about myself, and my new found career path. For everyday I grow up, I grow down ever so slightly. It's far to difficult to get into at this point in time.
I'm not unhappy, I'm just still learning.
In other news... if you were still wondering if santorum was an ass... here's some more proof.
http://www.phillyburbs.com/pb-dyn/news/111-10172006-728120.html
goodnight.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
All this talk of getting older is getting me down my love
It's a strange feeling to suddenly think of myself as an adult. I still feel like a child in so many ways. I look at people I work with as so much older, so much more mature when half of them are younger than i am. I still have silly conversations on the phone with my girlfriends about the men in our lives. I still have a myspace account. I still have drunken crazy pictures on my wall. I still feel like ice cream and melodramatic television shows make a great night. I have never held a romantic relationship for longer than 7 months. I still get great enjoyment out of stickers and puzzles. I still dance like an idiot around my room when the mood strikes me. Yet... somehow... somewhere... I got a grown up job, and more responsibility than i've ever had in my life.
I teach 10th grade. Over two days, I see 180 students for hour and a half blocks. I get up at 5:15/5:30 every morning, depending on the day I get home between 6 and 10:30 every night. I spend my weekends getting ready to teach the next week. I make a real salary. I have a real apartment and real bills. Somewhere along the way, I became an adult and I want to know when the fuck that happened?
"Life just keeps getting harder, and it just keeps getting harder to hide."
I teach 10th grade. Over two days, I see 180 students for hour and a half blocks. I get up at 5:15/5:30 every morning, depending on the day I get home between 6 and 10:30 every night. I spend my weekends getting ready to teach the next week. I make a real salary. I have a real apartment and real bills. Somewhere along the way, I became an adult and I want to know when the fuck that happened?
"Life just keeps getting harder, and it just keeps getting harder to hide."
Thursday, August 03, 2006
"When I said I'd take, I meant as is..."
"And I've got no illusions about you, guess what I never did. When I said, when i said i'd take it, I meant as is."
The first time my mother and I drove down north Broad street on our way to visit La Salle University, we were silent as we passed the decaying shops and dirty streets. Finally she turned to me and said, "you're not going to school here." Following the admissions office's directions we passed the Central High School football field with Central in front of us. "If that's La Salle," my mom said with panic in her voice, "we're turning around right now and going home."
It turns out we didn't turn around and go home, and I spent four years at La Salle. My mother never grew to like the city any more though, constantly complaining about the dirty streets and worrying about bad neighborhoods. I still don't think she really understands why I love this city so much.
Here I am, almost exactly six years since I first arrived in Philadelphia, and madly in love with a hopelessly imperfect city.
I have espoused before about the beautiful tapestry that is Philadelphia, the old and new weaving together to create intricate patterns. But it's not just the old and new, not just the old south philly men with sandwiches tattooed on their arms (a story for another time) drinking with 20 year old hipsters, or the Penn students living next door to the west philadelphia family that's lived there for 30 years. The tapestry is so much more complex than I can ever fully grasp.
Frequently students at La Salle rarely leave the campus. The neighboring Mt. Airy, Olney, and Logan prove a little to scary for the typical white suburban Lasallian. If they do leave the campus, they take a shuttle to the sub and go straight to Center City. So, it wasn't until I ventured out on my own that I really saw the city. The past two years, I have walked through or visited almost every neighborhood. I have worked 7 blocks from Penn and been in a different world. Walked through sidestreets in Kensington, and recently been to bars in Fishtown. I have picked up trash in West Philadelphia, and played games with kids from Olney. And there's beauty in areas that people forget about. There's crime and drugs, and kids who grow up way too fast. But then again there is still a little 6 year old boy who puts together a car out of legos and giggles with the wonder of creating something, there is still a mosaic of angles on a church that's lot is covered in trash. On a block where teenagers deal with the death of friend, there are still old men and women who sit outside and yell a hello to passersby.
The real tapestry of Philadelphia accepts the littered streets and urban decay. The personality of Philadelphia is dirty, crass and yet at the same time oddly beautiful.
My purpose here, I still don't quite understand. But while I'm living and working in areas of the city that most of my friends are afraid to go, I will embrace this city for all of its little beauties.
The first time my mother and I drove down north Broad street on our way to visit La Salle University, we were silent as we passed the decaying shops and dirty streets. Finally she turned to me and said, "you're not going to school here." Following the admissions office's directions we passed the Central High School football field with Central in front of us. "If that's La Salle," my mom said with panic in her voice, "we're turning around right now and going home."
It turns out we didn't turn around and go home, and I spent four years at La Salle. My mother never grew to like the city any more though, constantly complaining about the dirty streets and worrying about bad neighborhoods. I still don't think she really understands why I love this city so much.
Here I am, almost exactly six years since I first arrived in Philadelphia, and madly in love with a hopelessly imperfect city.
I have espoused before about the beautiful tapestry that is Philadelphia, the old and new weaving together to create intricate patterns. But it's not just the old and new, not just the old south philly men with sandwiches tattooed on their arms (a story for another time) drinking with 20 year old hipsters, or the Penn students living next door to the west philadelphia family that's lived there for 30 years. The tapestry is so much more complex than I can ever fully grasp.
Frequently students at La Salle rarely leave the campus. The neighboring Mt. Airy, Olney, and Logan prove a little to scary for the typical white suburban Lasallian. If they do leave the campus, they take a shuttle to the sub and go straight to Center City. So, it wasn't until I ventured out on my own that I really saw the city. The past two years, I have walked through or visited almost every neighborhood. I have worked 7 blocks from Penn and been in a different world. Walked through sidestreets in Kensington, and recently been to bars in Fishtown. I have picked up trash in West Philadelphia, and played games with kids from Olney. And there's beauty in areas that people forget about. There's crime and drugs, and kids who grow up way too fast. But then again there is still a little 6 year old boy who puts together a car out of legos and giggles with the wonder of creating something, there is still a mosaic of angles on a church that's lot is covered in trash. On a block where teenagers deal with the death of friend, there are still old men and women who sit outside and yell a hello to passersby.
The real tapestry of Philadelphia accepts the littered streets and urban decay. The personality of Philadelphia is dirty, crass and yet at the same time oddly beautiful.
My purpose here, I still don't quite understand. But while I'm living and working in areas of the city that most of my friends are afraid to go, I will embrace this city for all of its little beauties.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
This entry brought to you by a broken heart and Matt Wertz
"And I don't think that I can even remember/Why it was that i came to this town"
Every guy I've ever dated has hated my taste in music. There's just something about sensitive (read: whiny) emotional lyrical acoustic music that just never did it for any of them. Funny though when the time comes for the relationship to end and I am left with my thoughts I turn to this emotional lyrical acoustic music and listen to songs on a loop. I pick a theme and run with it.
Well here I am, left with my thoughts... I have a broken heart. It's so cliche, but so true.
"This is me on the eve of an ending/To what I've known's been constant for a year/And I'm so scared of this pain that I'll be sending/Sometimes I just want to run away in fear"
It's not just this break-up that has me torn up. I don't deal well with change. City Year was my life for two years, and now I am about to embark upon a career as a teacher. Seriously? What the fuck do I know about teaching? I am terrified. And... as uneloquent as this sounds... this whole relationship ending thing... isn't helping!
"No, I haven't heard your voice in two weeks now/And anticipation's been wearing me thin/And I just can't help but wonderin' baby if somehow/We could tear these pages out and begin again"
I would like to clarify something, with 2000 miles between us, I wasn't expecting any great romance to endure. It's the loss of my friend that hurts the most. It's the lack of contact... not a phone call, an email, a fucking text message. It's the loss of one of my best friends.
Whatever, all I know anymore is...
"I don't want to be lonely tonight."
Every guy I've ever dated has hated my taste in music. There's just something about sensitive (read: whiny) emotional lyrical acoustic music that just never did it for any of them. Funny though when the time comes for the relationship to end and I am left with my thoughts I turn to this emotional lyrical acoustic music and listen to songs on a loop. I pick a theme and run with it.
Well here I am, left with my thoughts... I have a broken heart. It's so cliche, but so true.
"This is me on the eve of an ending/To what I've known's been constant for a year/And I'm so scared of this pain that I'll be sending/Sometimes I just want to run away in fear"
It's not just this break-up that has me torn up. I don't deal well with change. City Year was my life for two years, and now I am about to embark upon a career as a teacher. Seriously? What the fuck do I know about teaching? I am terrified. And... as uneloquent as this sounds... this whole relationship ending thing... isn't helping!
"No, I haven't heard your voice in two weeks now/And anticipation's been wearing me thin/And I just can't help but wonderin' baby if somehow/We could tear these pages out and begin again"
I would like to clarify something, with 2000 miles between us, I wasn't expecting any great romance to endure. It's the loss of my friend that hurts the most. It's the lack of contact... not a phone call, an email, a fucking text message. It's the loss of one of my best friends.
Whatever, all I know anymore is...
"I don't want to be lonely tonight."
Editor's note: The song in purple is "Lonely Tonight" by Matt Wertz
Friday, July 21, 2006
"Monica, remember that it's food... not love" or the first pseudo-personal entry with no intellectual value.
**Editor's Note: In an effort to not embarrass or incriminate anyone else in my life with this journal, anytime that I write about anyone else I will only be using the first initial. If you know who I'm talking about, mazel tov you win, but they don't need to be "put out on front street" if you know what I mean.**
I think I seek out people in my life who turn to food when life takes a turn to the worse. Maybe I do it to make myself feel less weird, when I crave a cup of coffee, ice cream, or cookies when I'm feeling crappy. Maybe people just like the fact that I'll cook for them when they're feeling down. Either way, it is the reason why when E was sounding sad on the phone yesterday night that I suggested we make dinner tonight and watch bad (but oh-so-great) movies. It was also the reason why she invited C to join when she learned that C had just been dumped by her significant other.
So there we were, three "classy" ladies eating chips and drinking Pabst, when the following conversation occured:
C: I can't even go on myspace, I just keep thinking that I'll have to change my relationship status.
Me {throwing my hands up in agreement}: It's the last remaining piece of my relationship! He hasn't changed his profile yet, and I refuse to do it first, because I know how upset I'll be if he notices and changes his.
E {chuckling}: I don't think I'll ever be able to change that status box. It's like a big step in a relationship, I'll just be thinking, like, 'I like you, but I don't know if I'm ready for all that.'
Me: Seriously, I remember that I didn't change my status until he changed his, and then I decided to do it.
E: I remember that!
C: Yeah well made me change mine to "in a relationship"...
Looking back on this conversation has brought me to two important conclusions-
First: Wow my friends and I are so fucking lame. I mean people are getting bombed, living without food or water, getting sub-par educations, etc and I'm sitting around eating chicken and scalloped potatoes talking about fucking myspace. I'm such a loser.
Second: When the hell did myspace start dictating our lives?? We check it religiously, put scandelous pictures of ourself on it, we use it to send messages to each other, and apparently to define our relationship status. It's the modern equivelent to getting "pinned." You'd think the three small words that would declare to the world that you're in a relationship would be "I love you," instead we get "In a relationship". How sad has this culture gotten? And why can't I pretend to be immune to it like so many of my friends are? Even my older campers are talking about it. Today the girls talked about how when they're older they're going to get a myspace page. They traded possible songs they could download and what pictures they'd put on it. THEY'RE 10! They should be decorating binders and lockers, not parts of the web where scary men can come find them! Sheesh.
I need to get off this computer... myspace is calling.
I think I seek out people in my life who turn to food when life takes a turn to the worse. Maybe I do it to make myself feel less weird, when I crave a cup of coffee, ice cream, or cookies when I'm feeling crappy. Maybe people just like the fact that I'll cook for them when they're feeling down. Either way, it is the reason why when E was sounding sad on the phone yesterday night that I suggested we make dinner tonight and watch bad (but oh-so-great) movies. It was also the reason why she invited C to join when she learned that C had just been dumped by her significant other.
So there we were, three "classy" ladies eating chips and drinking Pabst, when the following conversation occured:
C: I can't even go on myspace, I just keep thinking that I'll have to change my relationship status.
Me {throwing my hands up in agreement}: It's the last remaining piece of my relationship! He hasn't changed his profile yet, and I refuse to do it first, because I know how upset I'll be if he notices and changes his.
E {chuckling}: I don't think I'll ever be able to change that status box. It's like a big step in a relationship, I'll just be thinking, like, 'I like you, but I don't know if I'm ready for all that.'
Me: Seriously, I remember that I didn't change my status until he changed his, and then I decided to do it.
E: I remember that!
C: Yeah well
Looking back on this conversation has brought me to two important conclusions-
First: Wow my friends and I are so fucking lame. I mean people are getting bombed, living without food or water, getting sub-par educations, etc and I'm sitting around eating chicken and scalloped potatoes talking about fucking myspace. I'm such a loser.
Second: When the hell did myspace start dictating our lives?? We check it religiously, put scandelous pictures of ourself on it, we use it to send messages to each other, and apparently to define our relationship status. It's the modern equivelent to getting "pinned." You'd think the three small words that would declare to the world that you're in a relationship would be "I love you," instead we get "In a relationship". How sad has this culture gotten? And why can't I pretend to be immune to it like so many of my friends are? Even my older campers are talking about it. Today the girls talked about how when they're older they're going to get a myspace page. They traded possible songs they could download and what pictures they'd put on it. THEY'RE 10! They should be decorating binders and lockers, not parts of the web where scary men can come find them! Sheesh.
I need to get off this computer... myspace is calling.
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