Random List

Tagged by Maita

1. GRIPES and RANTS

What can I say. Up until 2 years ago my life had always been a charmed existence. I was at the brink of imagined greatness. I was at the cusp of true self-discovery. I was happy just looking into the horizon because I seemed to hold such promise (whether real or not).

I gripe a lot about a lot of things because I'm disappointed that a hefty chunk of charm has fallen from my life. It's my first taste of my own mediocrity, my own blandness. It's a shocking, jolting experience. It's a painful realization. And I find that every fiber of my being is rebelling against the notion that I can be ordinary. Even as my daily life proves it, almost without a shadow of a doubt.

2. My MP3 PLAYER

I'm not quite sure that I like the idea of hearing my life constantly accompanied by some randomly chosen soundtrack. Although I do admit to looking at things in novel ways because of the hum in the background. A corner suddenly becomes a part of my daily cinematography. A pair of lovers become my extras. It's me on my personal music video channel and suddenly I'm that much more conscious of my life being on display, even if it really is just me watching.

I'm self-centered enough as it is. Do I really need this extra layer of conceit?

3. My MP3 PLAYER PART 2

The other thing with my MP3 Player is I can't help but feel like I'm pushing away the silence that coaxes my thoughts to unravel and stretch out. I'm crowding my mind with somebody else's epiphanies. Someone else's love story. Someone else's pain. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. On one hand, it's respite from my narcissism. On the other, I've always loved myself.

4. I'M ONLY HAPPY WHEN IT RAINS

I have a soft spot for misery. I don't know why.

5. MY SKIN FANTASY

My dream girls are always mestizas. Not because I think mestizas are all beautiful, but because I like the blur of ethnicities stamped in their faces. I like that their origins are a little undecipherable. I like seeing the pull of two cultures etched in their skin. I like the loss of delineation, the quiet understanding that two people stepped outside some invisible line so that this person can exist. I like the idea of constantly hovering in la frontera, the borderlands.

6. COWBOY BOOTS

It's boot-hunting season and this year my obsession has a western theme. I'm over the fur.

Tagging everyone who reads this blog.

TAXES

I am already getting taxed a little over 40% of my annual income and apparently, that still isn't enough. I just found out that I may actually be UNDERpaying my taxes and that I may owe Uncle Sam a hefty chunk of change come April. My God. It's not like I'm earning THAT much money. I'm a lowly teacher, for pete's sake!

***

Today was a miserable day. I feel like a teaching failure. Hold your sympathy, though. I'm not stupid and I know that this shall pass. And if it doesn't, well, there are other jobs.

***

I'm in a bad mood. Leave me alone.

DREAM JOB

DREAM JOB: Novelist, Travel Writer, career student, lottery winner

It's not too late, the little voice in my head tells me. You can still quit the fellows program, quit your job, get an EFL certificate, and start teaching English in some interesting nook of the world.

Help me out here

John surprised me with a nifty little MP3 Player last night. It's called an m:robe, made by Olympus.

John's sweet like that. Gifts from out of nowhere, for no occasion. I'm uploading all the audio files and Mp3's that I have on hand right now. Yay me!

***

I want to quit teaching already, but I promised myself I'd hang in there for as long as I can. A bunch of fellows quit only two weeeks in. Special Ed is tough enough. Special Ed in a hard-to-staff school... oh man, oh man.

Understand that I am not talking sweet withdrawn loner kids or even over-energetic but otherwise polite children. Most of the time I'm talking people with anger management issues, psychological problems, the intensely disturbed. I'm talking rude, arrogant, obnoxious students out to prove that they can make you cry. Being in front of kids who have no intrinsic motivation, who don't feel they belong in school, who basically just don't want to learn, who have been told that they can't learn -- it's an exhausting job. The learning/emotional/behavioral disabilities aren't even the main problem, they're almost just incidental. The REAL problem is the circumstances the kids are in. And it's sad, but I don't blame the teachers for being jaded.

You give it your all and you don't get any tangible results. You discover that your best student has a court date next week, or is a potential gang member, or whatever else. You keep pumping and they don't seem to care. You call their parents and the parents slap you with fake charges. It's tough, especially when the people you want to help don't want to be helped. Instead, they're cursing you out and giving you the middle finger. It's a tough, tough job.

***

So for our next great vacation, which will probably happen next summer, John and I will be doing a little backpacking across the Southeast Asian Peninsula with the final stop being Manila (of course).

I know it's early yet, but I feel certain that planning this trip will be my salvation this year. I need something to look forward to, after all. And I've been wanting to do ASEAN ever since I was in high school. So it makes perfect sense.

This is definitely going to be a nature/beach trip. So far, I know I want to go to Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, PALAWAN, and maybe Cambodia or Laos or Vietnam.

In Thailand: Koh Samui or Phuket? In Malaysia: Penang or Langkawi? And in Indonesia: Bali or Lombok or Java?

What I'm looking for: A NICE beach, not too many tourists, culture, nature, away from the beaten track but NOT too hard to access. Any suggestions?

It's not easy because it wasn't meant to be.

It wasn't meant to be anything but what it is.

***

It's so weird to read about everyone's drama right now. Weird because a part of me is reading and thinking that I'm beyond and past all of it while another part of me is nostalgic and jealous and wondering if I every really got there.

***

If I could I would quit my job right now. If I could I would pack my bags and leave. If I could I would be on a plane to anywhere-but-here. Panama. Mallorca. Madagascar. Switzerland. Anywhere. I want to wake up and feel like the world is mine for the conquering again. I want to wake up and feel like the world is worth it, worth the energy and the time and the heartache. I want to wake up without the bitter taste of recycled jadedness in my mouth. I'm tired of New York. I feel defeated and exhausted and ordinary.

***

I'm not sure I'm where I'm supposed to be. I'm scared that in a few more years I won't even care.

Like most teachers, I came with good intentions. With idealism and noble thoughts. I'm not even into my first month and I already know that this is not something I will be doing for a long time. At least not where I am. I'm already questioning their capacity for change. I'm already preparing for a year of going through the motions.

***

Maybe I'm just not cut out for continuity and a life of pre-planned days. Maybe that's just not the way I'm configured. Every little sign of stability inspires a sort of inner rebellion. I start squirming. I start looking for exit signs. I start feeling the restlessness creep up though my veins.

I know I've changed. I'm not the same and that saddens me because I truly liked who I once was. I miss myself.

I miss all the visions of me that I used to have. I'm a little nostalgic for the person I thought I would be by now. Sometimes I think that I'm not supposed to be here. That somehow, the real me has lost her rightful place in the world, that the cosmos bungled up and mixed up all my visions of myself with who I really am and now the real me is trapped in my imagination. She'll never really exist. Not anymore.

***

I'm an alien to myself sometimes.

I'm a teacher.

For Real.

It was Math and my co-teacher was up in front, explaining whatever it was the kids were supposed to do. As the special ed inclusion teacher, my job is to make sure the kids were on task and they were getting what they needed to understand the lesson - modifications in teaching technique, no distractions from their classmates, the kids are all where they're supposed to be, they're doing the work, all that crap. Since a lot of my kids have emotional issues PLUS ADD and numerous learning disabilities, it can be an incredibly frustrating job.

Well, one of the kids was just being a pain. He's generally a good kid, but I guess the heat and his short attention span coupled with his aversion to the subject matter just got to him. He started making LOUD burping sounds. I told him to stop. He did. After 5 seconds he started again. I told him to stop. Same thing happens. Finally I told him that the next time I hear anything from his table, I was calling the dean. I heard another burp and I just went, "that's it". I think he was a little shocked that I actually followed through since I've always been a pretty cool teacher. But I'm PMS-ing and he was just really getting to me, so there you go.

Dean comes in and ohmygod. The poor kid got shouted at and had to go to the dean's office. He probably also got detention. And then the other two deans also went in the classroom to do their spiels just to make sure that the whole class got the message.

Now I am not the type to rat kids out. I don't usually give my kids detention, I don't call their parents, and I cut them a lot of slack. As long as they're in class and they're not doing anything stupid, we were fine. It's a special education class. They have issues and I know that. I respected my kids. I guess I may have respected them a little too much.

I treated my kids like little adults. I expected them to know and understand their situation as much as I did. I expected them to be mature about it. I gave them too much freedom and too much credit and too little boundaries. And you know what? I realize now that doing that was a mistake. They're kids and I have no right to expect them to be otherwise. They aren't capable of making certain decisions -- they don't want to, and they shouldn't have to. I can still be my cool teacher self (hehe) but I shouldn't forget that being the adult in that room means that I'm responsible for setting the limits, for control, for authority. I have to lay down the law. That's my job.

Next class, which I have to teach alone by the way, I was in total teacher mode. I even did the "I want everyone sitting quietly in their seats NOW" thing and it freaking worked. I'm still in a state of disbelief. I mean my kids are no angels. These are inner city kids. Hell, two of my kids look like they can be members of a gang. And I've seen some of the more seasoned teachers just throw their hands up in exasperation whenever they're called to cover/sub for my kids. So the idea that they do actually listen to me still seems a bit surreal.

Ohmygod, I'm a teacher. Who would've thunk?

I'm sick!

I must've picked up a dozen little viruses from all those grubby kids in school! Ack. I hate being sick, especially since I don't really have any sick days... well, I do, but I'm saving them for my long vacation in Manila next summer.

Loads of Stuff

First of all, today was my first day of actual "teaching". It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, considering everyone was telling me I had a pretty rough class. I guess my summer placement was enough preparation... hehe. Now THAT was ROUGH.

Still, I know I'm definitely going to get a lot of grief this year. Just today I had two visits from the house dean because of one of my student's... errr.. misadventures. And it's only the first day! Oh well. Que sera, sera.

Hah. I'm a certified teacher. Who would have thunk? It feels so strange to think that just five days ago I was still on reckless vacation mode, sipping a glass of vino by the window in Frankfurt, watching an incredibly raucous party wend its way across the street from our hotel.

Speaking of which, Europe was amazing. I absolutely loved it. I didn't go east as I had originally planned (Latvia, Slovenia, etc) but I don't regret a minute of it. So anyway, here's a quick rundown of my trip. Pictures to follow (when I get them from JC, that is).

Frankfurt, Germany
It's a nice enough city. I'm not sure that I would go back, but I'm glad I got to see it at least this once. The shopping was great (or so my friends tell me; I was too poor to buy anything myself). We had the best Turkish meal at one of the little restaurants that lined the way to our hotel.

Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Ohmygod, do I love Amsterdam. Fantastic architecture, beautiful streets, friendly people (and they speak english!), and the craziest nightlife. Between our new Danish "friends" and their offers of absinthe, the coffeeshops with their marijuana menus, the redlight district and their aquariumed prostitutes, the Icelanders and the phallus by the bar... ohmygod. (The mornings weren't bad either. We hit the Van Gogh museum and that in itself was fabulous.)

Brussels, Belgium
We mainly just pigged out in Brussels (or Bruxelles, as the locals spell it). The land of sinful chocolates and scrumptious waffles.

Paris, France
Frankly, I was a little disappointed with Paris, probably because I had built it up in my head as the most romantic city on Earth (Before Sunrise). We hit all the usual spots - The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysee, Le Arc de Triomphe, Jim Morrison's grave.

Our hostel was nice though. We met a lot of nice people. Jesse, from Canada, our new French-speaking friend, was a ton of fun (Treaty of Paris!). The Germans and the Brazilian in our room were nice. Our receptionist/bartender/manager, Vincent (Vaun-saun), was pretty cool too. (Free beers are always cool in my book.)

My problem with Paris is that it just didn't seem as exotic as I thought it would be. Drinking in one of the bars along Rue Oberkrampf in the 11th Arrondisement felt just like drinking at any open air bar in Greenbelt or Katipunan. Eating dinner in a sidewalk cafe along Champs Elysee was just like eating dinner at any sidewalk cafe anywhere. It didn't feel romantic. It didn't feel surreal. It didn't really feel all that special.

Paris had its moments ofcourse, and it is beautiful in bits and pieces, but I didn't really feel that it was anything extraordinary.

Barcelona, Spain
Adoro Barcelona! I can absolutely live in Barcelona. It's just my kind of town. It's so familiar and exotic at the same time.

Our hostel was right on La Rambla, Barcelona's main street (and said to be one of the liveliest streets in the world!). The people who were running our hostel were supremely cool. The people who were staying at our hostel were nice and laidback and extremely friendly. The food was excellent. (My grandmother's paella still beats all, but Barcelona's Paella Marisco comes a close second.) The language is familiar and I know that if worse comes to worse, I'll still be able to communicate. Plus I really love the idea that I can just throw on a bikini when I wake up in the morning, go to the beach, sit on the sand, take a little dip, towel off, walk a few minutes to the main street, sit at a bar, eat my tapas and sip a glass of good sangria all before lunch. Barcelona is a city after my own heart.

La Rambla 42, The New Hostel. Regresaré!

I had so much fun on this trip, words cannot describe. I love feeling so connected to the world. I love being with people of my own tribe. I couldn't care less that I had to share a bathroom with half a dozen young men. It didn't matter that the guy who had the bed above mine in Barcelona staggered in drunk at half past three, swung himself violently onto the top bunk, peeled of his clothes like a maniac so that the floor was littered with his discarded things, and continually groaned to himself throughout the remainder of the night. It didn't matter that we had to run from train to train and stop to stop like Amazing Race rejects. It didn't matter that we were travelling on nearly empty wallets. The time I spent in Europe has made me feel alive again. I was with one of my closest friends in the world, who knows about all my quirks and lets them be; I indulged my multiple lunatic moments (which I haven't been able to do in a while); and I got a decent tan to boot!

I love it when I know that my wanderlust has been satiated, even if only for a moment.

There's so much more to say, but reality beckons.

I'm back!

Europe was great! Backpacking was incredibly fun! Details to follow. Sleep's first on the agenda, ofcourse.

Hasta luego!


Cimetière Père Lachaise, Paris, France. En route to Jim Morisson's grave.