"I don't do borough"

Normally my weekends are pretty predictable. I go to Happy Hour at Nacho's on Fridays, then out somewhere. Saturdays usually start late, heading away from the Upper West Side. This past weekend started out looking to be a typical weekend.
I went to Happy Hour at Nacho's. Soon I won't be able to go to the Happy Hour because I've decided to work on Friday afternoons, 3-7pm, missing the 4-7pm specials. I was excited about "my last Nacho's Happy Hour." (Of course, I'll be there next weekend when CT is in town.)
After 2 margaritas, it was time for Big Slice. The great thing about New York is big pizza slices for cheap prices. I'm sure there are better pizza places than this one, but like Nacho's it's convenient and it's tradition.
After the pizza, we were standing in the cold deciding where to go. Then drama began to occur. Issues needed to be resolved and for some reason, it was decided that then was a good time. I didn't want to deal with it. I left. I went home at 8:30pm on a Friday night. That never happens. I didn't go home early even when I had to work at 8:00am on Saturday morning. I was definitely in a weird mood. The rest of my evening was uneventful. I watched a movie that I slept through. I texted a boy. I couldn't sleep when I wanted. I worked on a job application and went to the grocery store at 2:30am.
After my non-eventful Friday night, I was looking forward to Saturday night. I was going to Brooklyn. Now normally, I don't do borough. Venturing to the Lower East Side seems far when you live on the Upper West Side. But leaving Manhattan...
The first thing I noticed about Brooklyn was that it seemed so spacious. The streets seemed wider. It also looked more like a neighborhood. I was going to a party at the house of a girl from my class. It was an actual house. 3 stories, several bedrooms, a big kitchen. It was the type of place where you could actually have a party. It was a good thing it was so roomy because at 8:00pm, the dance lessons started. That's right. There was dancing at this party. Salsa dancing. You should see my Latin moves... The party was a lot of fun. It was fun to go out with people from my classes. We danced, we ate, we drank. I'm glad I went to Brooklyn.
But I'm still a Manhattan girl. Once back on the island, I head up to the east side to meet my suitemate and her dramatic friends. Luckily everyone was getting along. They were all together to celebrate the engagement of a friend. The partying continued well past midnight. I'm glad my weird mood had passed. After all, the City and all of its boroughs offers a lot of opportunities for fun.

in a city that never sleeps

I can't sleep.

Embracing Indeed

I had a professor last semester who often said "indeed." Sometimes it was used to reaffirm her next statement, such as "Are you fortunate to have a world-renowned professor such as myself teaching you this semester? Indeed." Sometimes it was just to preface her comment or to sound intellectual and important, "Indeed, I was honored when you selected me to be your professor this semester." Everytime she said the word, it made her come across as pretentious and arrogant. Indeed.
Maybe I was never paying attention or maybe it was the overuse of this word that got my attention, but I don't recall too many people from Texas saying "indeed." Except for maybe my friend, suburban jesus. I can't help but wonder if it is a cultural difference. Perhaps Northerners simply use it more frequently.
Now there is the one who says "indeed" who is not at all pretentious or arrogant- the new guy I'm dating, Mr. Indeed. He responds to comments I say with "indeed." It is the reaffirming, very cute usage of the word. Mr. Indeed believes that I'll come to embrace the word. I responded with a smile and an "indeed."

cam confession #13

I am addicted to craigslist.

I go here several times a day. Sometimes I'm searching for jobs. Other times I'm looking to see what kind of apartments are available in the City. But usually I'm indulging in my guilty pleasure, missed connections. I was told about this feature of craigslist last Tuesday. And since that time I've checked it out everyday. In the spirit of movies such as Serendipity, missed connections is a venue to search for that person you think you made a fleeting connection with, say at a basketball game or on a subway train. So far no one is looking for me. Which is okay, because I'm not looking for anyone specifically either. Except for maybe that guy from the basketball game.
But considering I'm seeing a different guy from the same basketball game, maybe I didn't miss a connection. Only time will tell. But until then, I'm going to continue reading missed connections on craigslist.
Just in case.

the horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad day

Every once in a while, you encounter a day in which nothing seems to go right. From the trivial matters such as getting a poppyseed bagel when you asked for seasame seed, to the serious consequence of realizing you no longer have your wallet or your new digital camera. The day is filled with a series of unfortunate events. Your only hope is knowing tomorrow can't be any worse.

Today is a good day. It is full of hope. I still don't have my wallet or digital camera, but even in that loss I have hope. Perhaps they weren't stolen. Perhaps they fell out in a cab and will actually be returned to me. Regardless, yesterday is over. Today is a new day. Today is a good day.

And tonight I have a date.

when teaching coincides with the rich and famous

Today I had my first job interview since quitting the job I hated.
I've visited and revisited craigslist searching for jobs. I've sent numerous resumes. I got one response. It was from a company that contracts certified teachers to work with kids who are in or around the entertainment industry. It sounded promising and very interesting.
The interview was two part- first with a group, then individually. In the group interview the owner and founder of this education company told us his background and how we would fit into the company. Basically, we are contracted out to production companies. We would be teaching child actors, performers, etc. or the children of actors, performers, etc. In some cases, we might be hired to teach the child of someone who is just ridiculously rich and wants a private teacher. It all sounded so glamorous. Going to production sets or the theater, mingling with celebrities (or maybe he just said production people), flying to Europe with recording artists, traveling with the circus. It also sounded very unpredictable. I might get a call tomorrow morning asking me to work or I might get a call in 2 months. It all depends on the needs of these production people. I could be sent to tutor on the set of a commercial, in a trailer in Central Park, or in a theater. Each teaching gig could last anywhere from a few days to a few months, depending on the length and type of production. If I wasn't in school, I would have the option to go on tours- as a teacher. There was some name dropping. I have to admit, I was a little impressed and quite star-struck. I could be the one to teach Dakota Fanning to do long division.
I have no idea if I've been hired. I have no idea if I'll be given an assignment anytime soon. But I hope I get to work. I need money. After all, I'll need a nice dress to wear to the Oscars when the celebrities I meet make me their new best friend and invite me along.

first love and true love

I've been writing this post in my head for a while. Today seems like a good day to write it. Though I could just as easily write it tomorrow. But on a day when lots of people will be surrounded by talk and symbols of love, I might as well contribute my own thoughts.
I went on a date with a guy back in December. It was only our second date (which I quickly realized would be our final date). I had liked him a lot on our first date. He was interesting, acted interested in me, had the best manners I've ever known, and he knew good wine. I was disappointed when he had to go to London for a month, but we emailed some while he was gone then arranged another date after he returned. On our second date he was not the same guy I had liked so much. We talked, but without any of the connections we had made on our first date. I was surprised when he started telling me about other girls he'd dated. I don't believe that is second date conversation. Then he made a comment I haven't been able to forget. He told me he believes he has already experienced his first love and his true love. This left me to wonder, what else is there if you've already experienced your true love?
I began to reflect on my own past relationships. Have I experienced a first love and a true love? I began to realize maybe I have. My first love was exciting. It was everything I had hoped it would be. I didn't want it to end. They say you never forget your first love. It forever changes you. My first love was Bangkok. I moved there full of hope and expectations. I quickly fell in love with the pace of a big city. It had so much to offer. I felt like I fit there. I could have stayed there forever. But like all first loves, I knew it had to end. With some regret and sadness, I left my first love. The relationship may be over but it isn't gone. I'll visit and reminisce while I'm there, but it will never be the same. Bangkok continues to change, and I am not the same person I was when I lived there.
After Bangkok, I felt the loss as I lived in a city that offered me very little. After two years in a city I didn't love, I needed to leave. I needed to find a place that was right for me. I moved to New York City. It was love at first sight. When I went to visit in June, I just knew that I had found what I was looking for. It felt comfortable. It felt right. I love everything about the City. From the busy streets, to the many shops, to the subways and taxis and buses, to the parks. Places to eat, drink, dance, talk, sit, and be. New York is my true love. It reminds me of the things I loved in Bangkok, but offers me even more to love. People keep asking me if I'll ever leave New York. It takes me back to the question after my date. What else is there after you've experienced your true love? Maybe I could leave New York. I could find another city where I could be happy. I would find new things to love about it. But I think I would always feel a little bit of loss anytime I thought about my true love, and the happiness and completeness I felt.
Maybe I'm wrong. Just like in relationships with people, maybe New York is my true love for right now. There are a lot of cities out there. It's hard for me to believe only one will be my true love. In the same way that I realized Bangkok could not be long-term, I might realize New York is good only for this particular time in my life. If I leave, I want to believe that there is another city that I could love just as much if not more. Unfortunately, when you are in the relationship or even just after it ends, it is hard to believe you can ever find and experience that kind of love again.
I really love New York. I hope it doesn't end.

a midget among giants

In an effort to learn more about basketball, I went with my friend Mara to watch her team, Gonzaga (pronounced gahn-zay-ga) play Stanford in a rivalry week game featured on ESPN. Mara, another girl from our school, and I all headed to a sports bar in Hell's Kitchen. While three girls watching basketball is pretty cool, we weren't alone. Mara's friend from Gonzaga was in town and bringing 3 other guys to join us. She told us they were tall guys. This didn't mean much to me. When you are 5', everyone seems tall.
When they walked towards us, I realized my friend meant really tall. The "shortest" guy of the group was 6'6". Let me just tell you, 6'8" is very tall. Especially when you are 5-foot- even, looking up. After the sports bar, we went downtown for dancing. At one point, I was surrounded by all these giant guys. It was a very weird experience. People stared. These guys look like basketball players. In fact, they are all rowers- US Olympic hopefuls. They were good-looking, too. Yes, I liked the one who is 6'7". But it will never work. He lives in Philly...

I guess they were right

When I moved to New York, I brought a down comforter, electric blanket, 3 heavy coats, scarves, gloves and hats. I was dreading the Northern winters. After all, in Texas, when the weatherman thinks there might be snow, the cities shut down and declare "inclement weather day." I knew I was not prepared for a New York winter.
I had begun to believe that I overestimated the winters here. Two weeks ago, I was walking down the street with my sweater off, wearing just my tank top. It was definitely not necessary to wear one of the many sweaters I acquired in anticipation of the cold, snowy weather. A week ago, I took the kids I babysit to the park to play tag. I got hot running around. I began to wonder, "Why was I so worried? This winter isn't any worse than ours in Texas." Sure, we'd had one or two days of snow. But lately, even Texas gets one or two days of snow each winter.
But the experienced Northerners kept telling me not to think winter was over. I kept hearing, "It's going to get worse. It's going to get colder. It will snow again." That time has come. February really is the winter in New York. The rumors and weather reports began on Friday. It's going to snow. It's going to be a blizzard. Expect 10 inches of snow. I have no concept of any of this. It snowed in Texas, but 2 inches was a blizzard. What does a real blizzard look like?
The snow began last night around 6 pm. Light flurries, nearly like rain. By the time the Gonzaga v. Stanford basketball game ended, I couldn't see the streets. We headed downtown, but I didn't know where I was. The street signs were completely covered with snow. On our way back uptown, the cab slid a couple of times.
The snow continues to fall. The parked cars on the street below are hardly visible. Not only are the covered with snow, but the snow on the ground is nearly to the roof of the cars. Heavy snow is predicted by Yahoo! all day. At what point will I get to tell people I survived my first blizzard?

"you are mayor of the friend-zone"

I like this guy from one of my classes. I'm pretty sure he likes me, too. We've hung out a few times. That's the problem. "Hanging out." These two words spell trouble when you are wanting to be more than "just friends."
Plans have been made. Plans have been cancelled. There has been talking of actually going out for several weeks. I'm beginning to think- never going to happen.
Sure we get together for lunch. It's fun. We talk. But is it really a date? I don't think so.
He called tonight. He asked about class. This can't be good.
Can you go near the edge of the friend-zone without getting trapped? Is there still a possibility that this guy might actually ask me out?
He is driving me crazy...

education in museums: field trip #1

This semester I am taking a class that explores education in community settings, specifically museums. The class involves field trips. Even in grad school, field trips are a fun alternative to classrooms and lectures.
Today I went to a new area of New York City: Chelsea. My class was visiting the New York Museum School. It is a public school (grades 6-12) that incorporates museums into the curriculum. The students take the regular sort of classes- English, History, Biology, Algebra. But they also visit museums each week, participating in a module that integrates the classroom discussion with the field trips. For example, students learning about the American Revolution go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to study portraits that portray life during that time. The students develop projects to enrich their learning experience. In the age of education where school seems to be all about the "test," these teachers believe their students succeed because they aren't teaching to the test. Instead the students make connections to the content material that really allow them to fully understand the ideas and concepts they are learning.
Unfortunately, even with this school's student success rates, the political climate surrounding the testing movement is affecting even this school. The middle school classes are being phased out. The skills and knowledge these students acquire through the museum modules that synthesize learning and make education interesting are once again losing out to the only skill that counts: passing a standardized test.

"sometimes they come back on their own. but sometimes they are gone forever."

After my freak-out about losing my "quitter's remorse" post, I emailed several fellow bloggers to see if they had any suggestions for retrieving my lost post.
A good friend wisely told me, "Sometimes they come back on their own. But sometimes they are gone forever." While she was referring to the missing post, I couldn't help but reflect on the depth of her comment.
It's true of so many things, isn't it?

when you lose something you can't replace

In the process of writing my last post, I lost the one about quitter's remorse. I needed that experience documented. Since moving to New York, I often feel I am writing for an audience rather than for myself. But I wrote about quitting my job and wondering if I made the right decision as a way to deal with the stress of it all. When I began to doubt my decision, I could just reread what I had written and remember all the reasons I needed to quit. But now I can't. It's gone. Does anyone know if I can recover that post?

sometimes you still have to laugh

This morning I went to meet with my former boss at her request. I arrived only to be told she wasn't coming. I certainly didn't bother rescheduling our appointment. If she wants to meet with me, then she can reschedule. I went to the gym after my walk back to campus. After running, motivated by some Avril and Christina to run faster and faster, I'm feeling much better. Ironically, a little less angry.
I've been in the library sending out resumes. Then I was doing school work. I came across the picture of my regression teacher, and it reminded me of a blog I've been meaning to write.
My regression teacher looks (and acts) like Mr. Furley from Three's Company. Picture a female version of Don Knotts and you've got my regression teacher. She does this thing where she peers out at us from behind round glasses and after every point checks comprehension by saying, "Okaaay...?" Ever since my friend pointed out the similarities to Mr. Furley, I find myself laughing out loud as if I am in the middle of a Three's Company episode. I wish I could post the picture, but I believe that would be unethical. Trust me on this.
Not only am I taking regression "just because," I actually go and find myself laughing. It's okay, you can laugh at me...

quitter's remorse

I quit my job on Wednesday.
There wasn't a dramatic scene where I finally just say, "I quit" then storm out leaving the door to slam shut signalling my final departure. Trust met, if I had quit on Saturday that scene might have been real. But I try to be sensible, not reacting in the furor of the moment.
I've hated my job for a while. Correction- I mostly disliked the disorganization of my job caused by an ineffective boss. As a math tutor working with at-risk kids, the job was rewarding. I loved that aspect. I even liked the math sessions we conducted on Saturdays, though I didn't so much like waking up for work at 9am. Especially if I had been out having too much fun the night before...
I've been frustrated by the inefficiency of the program for quite some time. Perhaps I should have been forewarned of the inefficiency of this program from the beginning. I began working in September. I signed a contract in October. It was returned two weeks later, finally signed by my boss and with an addendum attached. After I had already signed it. Unprofessional? Yes. Illegal? Possibly.
Like the contract, I would be told one thing, only to have it change. At first, I accepted that this was natural with any pilot program. Yet this trend persisted. My boss was always changing her mind, and if we ever questioned her, she told us that the new plan was always the one she intended to use. Meaning- No, you are wrong. Stop making me look bad.
Then the abuse began. Abuse of our time. She began adding additional tasks, requesting us to arrive early on Saturdays, and holding us late. When I questioned her during a meeting about her requiring time and tasks outside the scope of our contracts, I received an email reprimanding me about the "appropriate venue of raising concern" and suggesting I might be too busy to continue as a tutor. We then tried unsuccessfully to schedule a meeting to discuss my concerns. It never happened. I began to look for a new job.
The problem was that in spite of how much I disliked aspects of my job, it paid well for a part-time job. When I finally got paid, that is. We weren't paid hourly, but instead received tuition credits. Being at a very fancy grad school, tuition credits add up quickly. My tuition credits were finally applied to my account just before Thanksgiving. I had been working since September. However, once I did get the check, it nearly seemed worth all the hell I had endured first semester. In addition to the tuition credits, I also got off easily for all school holidays- mine and the kids I tutored. It should have been a great job.
I did not find another job. I was told it was due to my availability. Whatever. In the end, I reapplied for the job I was starting to hate. Yes, I had to reapply for it. I reapplied because I was told I would have the option of working Monday-Friday only, no Saturdays. This was the only reason I decided to go back. I realized the Saturdays had become the part I hated most because that was when I had to endure my boss the most. One week back and everything changed. The new option disappeared. We would use the old format- 3 days in the school and Saturdays. I began going to our new school. Meeting the new kids I would tutor. The kids were great. Things seemed to be more organized. I thought that maybe things would be better this semester.
Then it came our first Saturday session. Friday afternoon at 3pm, I received an email that said: Saturday Session- Meet at 8am! This was a full hour earlier than we were supposed to start work. I was already in a resentful mood when I arrived at 8am Saturday morning after a late Friday night. Then I grew more irritable when I realized we were not there to plan anything for the Saturday session as the email led me to believe. Instead we analyzed a test we had already analyzed 2 days that very week. The time with the kids was great as usual. Then I heard a rumor that we would be staying until 2pm. This was a full hour later than we usually ended. By that point, I was ready to walk out. I had no contract protecting me from this time abuse. We had not been given anything outlining new work hours. This was unacceptable. I went straight home and searched for new jobs.
I tried to set up an appointment with my boss to voice my frustrations and concerns. She was unavailable until later in the week. Which meant in the meantime, I would have to continue working, knowing that if I quit I would not be compensated for any of the time I had already given. I was asked to email my thoughts. It was a full page, single spaced. She emailed back and told me she would like to meet at our main campus between 4-5 on Wednesday. I told her I could meet during that time, just let me know where to go.
No email back. Nothing to confirm or tell me where to go. I checked in the early morning, after tutoring, again at 1:25 before my class, and again at 4:00 after my class. By 4:30 I was shaking I was so mad. I couldn't believe she hadn't even bothered to email me anything. Then I started having chest pains. The anxiety of this job situation was causing me chest pains. I knew I would have no choice, but quit. I sent her an email to find out where she was. At 5:15, I got an email back saying she had been waiting for me over at her office (10 blocks away from campus). She had asked someone else to email me the location change- at 2:00pm. Only 2 hours before our meeting time. That was the last straw. I waited until I calmed down, then I composed an email in which I would quit. Then I walked away from the computer, knowing that once it was sent, I couldn't take it back. At 10:53pm, I quit my job.
I've been anxious ever since. Will I find another job that will allow me as much flexibilty around school holidays as this one? After all, I've got lots of people with plans to visit. What if a new job won't allow me time off to spend with them?
Then there is my boss who continues to cause anxiety. She sent an email back. This is it:
Since you are now free in the mornings, let's meet one morning so that I can hear you in person, and also help you understand some of the issues that have caused you concern.
I'll let you decide how you choose to read this email. But in my opinion she seems to be saying, "clearly you don't know how to understand your own concerns, so let me help you." We are supposed to meet Monday at 10am. Then I hope to be free of anxiety.
But I still can't help but wonder, did I quit too soon? Should I have tried to work things out first? Will I find a job that will pay as well and give me holidays off? This is why I suffer from quitter's remorse.

This post did not come back on its own. It was sent to me from someone who cares and believes what I blog is worth emailing to others.