Not Your Regular Girl

Don't know what to call it :(

2012-02-10T00:10:00.001-05:00

I'm sitting on a very clean, carpeted floor of a private college, where I go to school. We're done with the class, but I'm sitting in a little secluded hallway, trying to sort out my thoughts. I feel hurt. More than anything now I want to be with my mom, holding her as tight as I can and not letting her go for the longest time. I would slowly rock her in my arms, humming a tune of a lullaby she sang when I was little.

Earlier this evening I had a mistake of checking my e-mails right before the class started, while being in the room with other students. Two of the e-mails were from my mom. The subject line read "Don't know what to call it :(". The other one was titled "Your room". My parents were in the process of giddy preparations for their third child. They were going to move my brother into my old room, so I didn't think much of the title. Nothing was suspicious when I opened one of the e-mails. Usual hello's followed by an update on my mom's pregnancy. "On February, 6th" , she writes "dad and I went to the clinic for an ultrasound and found out that my pregnancy is still".

In English it's called blighted ovum - one of the most common types of miscarriage when for whatever reason an embryo stops developing. My dad had to continue the e-mail since my mom apparently started crying and couldn't finish it. She had to undergo a surgery to stop developing an infection inside of her and was now recovering at home.

The e-mail wasn't over, yet I realized that for a while now I've been sitting with my hand covering my mouth in disbelief. Tears were falling down my cheeks and I had to just leave the classroom with my phone, attempting to dial my husband. It was too late to call my parents with the time difference. Or maybe it wasn't. I didn't know.

My heart goes out to my parents. I don't even know well how to express exact same feeling in Russian any more. Truthfully, it is not as much the grief over loss as sadness of knowing that people you love are deeply hurt by the event. Only now I notice that my parents found out a few days ago. It certainly was not an easy bit to share. I feel for them so much. My mom must be devastated.

Yet I've said nothing. I don't know what to say. I only wish they could feel my tight embrace. I wish it wasn't true what I read.

"Streat"

2012-01-23T00:44:00.000-05:00

Screw everything

2012-01-22T23:59:00.004-05:00

Worthless pursuits of a lifestyle or people who are never attainable.

Perchance, it's not what I really want.

Empty worries of money, or mostly opinions

That belong to others and shouldn't be on my mind.

Ever.

This blog has proven itself quite worthless. Given I used that word twice in the last minute or two, it must be significant to me at the time...or I might want to increase my vocabulary. Either way, this place is getting stale and I keep wanting to be somebody else.

Those in whom I wish to confide some of my inner ponderings come here at most once or twice. I suppose they stop by to be polite after I invite them or in order to satisfy their initial curiosity of what I might have on the blog that's anonymous. Once it's done it's done. Accidental visitors or those who come back with surprising consistency seem to merely scan the content, like a google bot simply taking note of my post being there. Click. Like a two-dimensional picture. And it's out there for another lost soul...or maybe for nobody.

Another Man's Gold

2012-01-21T16:16:00.002-05:00

"Caught selling spoiled fish, he had some of his stinking goods hung round his neck like a necklace...Children and even some vengeful housewives followed along, throwing sticks and mud and garbage at the wagon. One old woman threw rotten carrots and onions while another gathered them up in her apron and hurried off to make soup."

From "Catherine Called Birdy" by Karen Cushman

Confused

2012-01-03T02:08:00.003-05:00

Inside joke:

Husband kissing me: You are such a good kisser.

Me: That's what she said.

---

I don't know what's going on. In the past couple of days I've said and felt more "I don't know's" than I have in a while. Stupefied, embarrassed, happy, obsessed, ashamed, upset. The most powerful feeling I can actually define was confusion.

I can't get her out of my mind.

Everything I do somehow reminds me of the night, her soft skin, her smell, the way she talked and smiled. I want to talk to her again, see how she's doing. Tell her she was everything I could wish for that night and that I can't be more grateful for her reaction when I freaked out at one point and called it quits. Can't believe I said no when she asked for my number in the end.

Even if I never speak to her again, I wish her all the best and hope everything works out with that guy of hers.

Sisters

2011-12-05T02:33:00.002-05:00

"I don't want a hug now! I don't want a hug," repeated Lizzy with Maddy forcefully trying to wrap her arms around her sister, "kiss me." Both girls suddenly got serious and Madelyn kissed Lizzy on the cheek. They hugged.

It lasted for the longest time with the girls playing with each other's hair, completely oblivious to their surroundings. If I didn't know better I'd think they were french kissing.

"What are you doing, Lizzy?" I suddenly realized I wasn't the only spectator glued to the strange scene as Lizzy's boyfriend disturbed the silence. He didn't say anything else and we proceeded watching Lizzy slowly take off her sister's band exposing her long ravishing hair.

I didn't know what to make of it. It was intimate and lovely and a little strange. Yet another slow sip of hot cider went down my throat. Both sisters were utterly gorgeous in their own ways.

You know it all

2011-11-20T02:44:00.010-05:00

I wonder if people

who tell you to be more assertive

realize that if you actually went ahead

and followed their advice,

they would be the ones

getting that first, savored "FUCK YOU".

Support

2011-11-07T00:39:00.005-05:00

I love my job! It makes sense. It's safe. It fulfills me. It pays the bills.

If we run out of chalk - I know to go to the supply guy. If there is a medical emergency - I call the nurse. There is security, tech people, my department, the entire staff supposedly working for the same goal, administration making sure that we are indeed pushing for the same goal, janitors, social workers, coordinators, payroll people, HR. I even have a mentor. When there is a big issue - I have my union. It's clear. There are rules and procedures. They make sense. They should.

I feel like I'm much better at figuring out the supports I have available at work than outside of it.
It's almost Monday.

About Me

2011-10-31T03:20:00.003-04:00

Female, 23, married. What else do you want to know?

Contrary to the title of the blog, I don't think I'm any more special than you. The name is almost a joke, an attempt in self-persuasion of a sort. Just like billions of people all over the world, I have my own petty problems, which seem giant and uber-important to me at the time.

I was born in the USSR. Ukrainian by citizenship, Tatar and Russian by ethnicity, and American by spirit, I'm quite confused with my national identity.

People fascinate me. I like listening to their stories and trying to figure out how they think. Sometimes my questions are like shooting stars, without any particular order or direction. I'm looking for something, yet I'm not sure what it is. I'm always trying to learn.

I admire people who live selflessly, who persevere through difficulties, and love without fear. Intelligence, confidence, and ability to do what's right regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, is irresistibly hot.

I'm constantly trying to change myself around, because I'm rarely content, but the whole "be OK with who you are" thing is a work in progress in itself.

I love life!

Occasionally I get into depressive moods, leading me down the road of self-depreciation and other pretty messed-up thoughts. That's when I come here. Don't judge.

Tying my life with my husband was the best and most important decision I've ever made. ~~I'm in an open relationship.~~

I'm a long-distance runner. Take it however you want. I may be slow, but I'll do my thing and will get there.

Expression of love in ANY form or shape is strikingly beautiful. It makes me smile even when no one else is around. I don't care. Thought-provoking short films, random acts of kindness, intimate bonds, and rainy days that seem to bring everyone closer, are rather enjoyable as well.

I believe in God.

Ideally I want to care less about stuff, be stronger in spirit and more open to new experiences. In reality thought I'm just a regular girl: boring, self-conscious, unorganized, impulsive, and all-around hard-to-handle when close, but oh so special to the ones who love me.

Thug life. Hood...or how come it used to be so much easier

2011-10-01T04:10:00.004-04:00

A: It's so much easier to be a good person in small-town Indiana than here, in our hood.

B: Oh no, it's easier here. There's a lot more good that needs to be done.

It's difficult to figure out what's right. You can live in white suburbia and pretend that all the shit outside of it doesn't exist, you might just not know about it. You can do it all your life, never confronted with the issues hitting and kicking you, often literally, right in your smiling face.

Ethical questions have been concerning me ever since we moved here. "Am I doing the right thing?" Or the one that's way more common, "What the fuck is going on and why am I here?"

Just the other night I was out on the street at night and police stopped me, suspecting I was a prostitute. I was wearing sweats and tennis shoes. They couldn't believe I lived here. "This is a really rough neighborhood", one of them said...as if I didn't notice.

Real shit is happening here. It gets nearly impossible to not get in it.

There's always police here. They never go alone. Usually at least 2 to 5 officers keeping together. I'm white and I wear nice clothes for work. I often get the "good guy" card just because. I also get asked for change, bus tickets, phone, laptop, real money...also, just because a.k.a an affluent white young female with license plates not from around here. I used to feel like we stood out too much. "Ahem....Did you just get off the bus, darling?" Now I'm concerned we're well too adjusted.

The clouds around my husband and me seem so thick I can barely breath. It's almost humorous when I go to work or grad school classes, immersing myself in a completely different world. They don't understand. I'd never share. I don't know nothing anyway, right?

Half of the time I sincerely don't understand the way the people speak around here.

I can tell by your accent.

2011-09-02T20:36:00.002-04:00

We've been talking for a few minutes by now. "Are you from Germany?" "No, Ukraine". The guy smiled and added with what seemed like a little bit of pride, "I've noticed by your accent". I didn't know what to say next, so I tried remaining neutral and proceeded with a brief "Okay".

This wasn't anything new. I've had exchanges just like that many, many times
before. "Sorry" - to my great surprise he appologized. I wasn't sure if he figured out that his pointing out about my accent reminded me once again of my "foreignness" and made me a bit insecure. Perhaps, he sensed some sort of slight awkwardness and dropped his "sorry" just in case, but we both kept quiet for a bit before I shrugged, "That's okay".

I sense that there is something wrong with me thinking this way, but the talk I described above reminds me of a situation when a person asks someone else "Hey, do you have Tourette's?" And after they respond positively that person would gladly add,
"I can tell by your tics".

Give in to be a "fun girl"

2011-08-15T03:49:00.004-04:00

I'm tired of this place. I am. I am sick of the highlight of every evening with a free morning turning into some party in a stale basement filled with sweaty fucking guys handing you cheap beer in the company of slutty little girls with smudged mascara and bruised knees trying to walk strait as they go up a flight of stairs to find a line to wait in for the bathroom so they can take 5 mintues re-applying their rail-road eyeliner that sweated off while they were bumping into other people, letting them grab their ass and laughing it off feeling lucky they were cute enough for some drunken guy to actually get up the nerve to feel them up..

The sweat, smoke and loud, shitty music with bad dancing and drunk conversations. There's always some frustrated guy who's being a dick about the fact you have a boyfriend and you're not willing to fuck him anyway for reasons of self-respect and image...some girl who's cried off all her make-up, who's lost her phone and purse all because she had some bad drunk dial with her boyfriend who goes to a completely different college....and who's already fucked someone else...and she knows this because because he got mad enough to tell her he did after calling her a bitch.

There'll always be some kid explaining to a girl that he's in college and doesn't want a relationship but goes on and on about how good she'd be to sleep with. Her only assets are her tits and ass and if she shakes it all up just right, she'll be lucky enough to get some stupid little fuck to neck her in the corner as he grinds his hard on into her back while she tries to keep her balance, dancing as horribly as she can.

Then she'll get back to his room or hers. Then it begins and there's no turning back without frustration and anger- so she'll give in to be "a fun girl". Inhibitions lost and the thought of how convientient it was that she shaved just 6 hours ago when she got ready for that stupid fucking party.She'll act like she doesn't want a thing. She's good and sloppy now, all over him, looking like shit until he finally turns out the lights...And they'll both ignore the liquor on their breaths and all you can hear over the emptiness of that room is the friction and the heaving breathing that will be done and over with as soon as he comes, and she'll hope that that precious little piece of latex didn't break THIS TIME...because no one likes being nausous for 12 hours... just to avoid making the call to planned parenthood when your period didn't come on the 12th like it did every other month.

The night before is all that matters. The morning after smells of stale beer and vomit and all you can think about is what today is going to be like now that you're good and hung over. You can tell everyone how hung over you are. How hard it was to get out of bed. How smashed you got the night before and awesome it fucking was.

From a Facebook note "ITS ALL BULLSHIT" by Rachael Bell

2011-08-04T01:42:00.001-04:00

"I dream of a better day when chickens can cross the road and not have their motives questioned..."

Caricature of Intimacy

2011-07-13T01:21:00.000-04:00

That feeling

2011-07-11T02:45:00.004-04:00

It's like the dreadful longing you'd get when you're a kid and one of your parents drops you off at pre-school. Now they are gone and you gotta stick around all day without them whether you like it or not.

I miss my husband so much. Because of the way our living situation worked out, we have to live apart for at least three more weeks. I hate saying "have to", there is always a choice to do things differently, but that's what we, OK, I decided.

It's pathetic, but sometimes I just lay in bed and cry. We'd talk on the phone for a little bit almost every day. He'd be kind and caring, asking about my day and saying things like "Baby, I love you and miss you". It all seems fine, but I want more.

Things have been hard and very stressful with my training here. I want him to come, wrap me in his arms and make it all right...just like the last time. I want him to call more often, leave numerous voice-mails, reach out for me on Facebook, Skype, AIM. I want to fall asleep listening to his voice on speaker phone and get sweet as hell e-mails when I wake up in the morning. I want him.

We don't talk much about important issues any more. Things like what our descendants would show in museums after we're all long dead, or how it's so strange that we're often drawn to people that we're not most comfortable with. Random, stupid stuff that I could always share with him.

I'm feeling too needy, clingy, seeking out attention just for the sake of it. Hey, I'm here. It's sick. It's like I'm going through some sort of obsessive head-over-heels in love, desperately crushing on my own husband stage. I try thinking about it rationally and feel like I'm being infantile, mentally demanding him to drown me in his attention. I get upset at myself, feel absolutely stupid and of course it just makes everything worse.

Hate that feeling.

Measuring Up

2011-06-28T01:49:00.001-04:00

A: They all seem to have their shit together.

B: And?

A: And I don't.

B: Why are you trying to measure up to other people's shit?

The H-word

2011-06-12T05:38:00.005-04:00

Does 'hopeless' have a set limit?

Where it bumps into a sticky bottom

Reluctantly acknowledging

that its meaning is exhausted in its full entirety?

Would it matter if it hurt so much

You kind of wished you ached a bit physically

To match at least one ounce

of what you're plunging through internally?

Ice-cold eyes, like a piece of glass,

Staring right though you

Are you even there?

Your tears are sure funny.

Funny as hell.

Help. Why is it never there?

When every grown back bone is broken

You're crushed, wailing, chewing on snot,

Saying His name

In vain.

What did you even expect?

A pair of caring arms

Taking you out of it,

Singing a song, helping you close your eyes

For a while?

Real while

Till you're ever able to say the H-word

The silent word,

making you want to slam your fists

Right into the mirror

to not ever face that face again?

No, it's not "hurt"

or "hate" or "hopeless",

"happy", "hungover"

It's "HU-MI-LI-A-TION".

Writing "failure" and "weakness"

all over your back.

And you're back

With your multiple 'WHY's

Trying to rescue "respect", "worth, "dignity"

And you know

that they'll never be answered.

Why do you even ask?

Venom

2011-06-11T21:00:00.000-04:00

It's like hot tar, a dark viscous fluid, drop by drop flooding my mind and thoughts. It tightens my entire body with each breath now weighing a thousand pounds. Slowly, from the inside out...it destroys me. I can't believe I have so much anger inside.

How far are you from them?

2011-05-22T16:50:00.000-04:00

In the midst of this end-of-the-world craze, so graciously spread by Harold Camping and his followers, it's hard to not smile at the sight of some people taking that seriously. In the last few days I saw and heard more from the people ridiculing the prediction than from those who caused a stir to begin with.

I laughed and shook my head as well. One of the videos showed a family that had their kids pulled out of school, so they can travel and spread the news. There were many more outlandish stories like that.

What's really not funny is that those people sincerely believed that they were right. Millions of dollars blown, lost time that could've been spent on something way more productive, didn't seem to them like a waste at all. They unquestionably believed their "truth", their made-up facts, and thought it was a right thing to do.

Maybe they are not the only ones to laugh at? How far are we from them at times?

2011-05-21T02:48:00.001-04:00

"Come rain or Rapture, postal carriers will deliver mail", - Postmaster Cecilia Luebke

Opening up

2011-05-21T00:13:00.001-04:00

Bram paced the classroom, asking students if anyone knew how to fix that certain part of a car I've never heard of before. He seemed pretty desperate, making calls whlie on the job, searching through car articles online and seeking advice from people who clearly didn't have much to offer. I felt bad for the guy, but there really wasn't anything I could do.

Bram and I have been working together for a month or so. He's a few years older than me, a registered Republican, a former frat boy, now going through a quarter-life crisis. Today on top of all of his perceived troubles he learned that his car needs a serious repair.

When someone jokingly brought up Harold Camping's prophecy, Bram simply added "I wouldn't care if the world ended tomorrow. I might as well die".

After classes were over, as we were pushing chairs under the desks, Bram got back on the topic of his car, sliding on the slippery slope of how downright-pathetic his life is."I live with my mom. I don't have a job. My degree gave me nothing. Now my car...Nothing to live for...Do you ever get suicidal thoughts?" He asked it so as-a-matter-of-fact-ly, that I plainly responded, "I do".

Apparently that wasn't the right answer, according to Bram. He turned around, froze for a second, and asked once again, "YOU DO?" At this point I could've backed down and generalized that most everyone at one point or another at least mildly played around with the idea in their head, but I didn't see any incentive to hide the truth, so - "Yes".

I found it a little funny the way he put me on the spot. My life has been going great, and especially at work I can't help it but act as everything is always in control. His question picked up something long-forgotten and honestly admitting it felt so easy as if it wasn't part of me any more. I hope he understood it right. Before I could open my mouth again, someone else walked in and we moved on.

Better Book Titles

2011-05-14T20:41:00.014-04:00

One of my friends shared a link to Better Book Titles, a pretty sweet blog, parodying...well, book titles. Below are some of my favorites:

Keyed

2011-05-12T01:08:00.000-04:00

Someone keyed my car today. I'm not sure if it happened at school or somewhere else, but the nasty long scratch on the driver's side of our aging sporty car is out there now, shamelessly making its Blue Book value even more modest than it already is. I want to believe that it was just a random jerk with nothing better to do, but something inside of me sadly knows that it was one of my students.

Pushing

2011-05-09T00:48:00.004-04:00

What sort of love would it be if it came easy and gave immediate fruits and gratitude in return?

Facing another week of struggles with my kids. And no, I don't envision myself as a Mother Teresa type. I'm a wannabe teacher, figuring it all out on the go. The "all" part including whether I want or should be a teacher at all. Yet I persevere.

We are closed

2011-05-09T00:20:00.001-04:00

Any closure beats no closure. Then again, wouldn't a "no closure" scenario still be some form of closure? Maybe it did happen, but you didn't like it, so it's a "no closure" now?

As you wish

2011-05-08T01:06:00.001-04:00

A: That reminds me of Princess Bride. Last time I had a manic episode, I was at work, playing a game with a girl I had a crush on. When she asked me something, I responded with "as you wish". She laughed and asked "Tim, do you love me?". And I said "I probably do but if I told you that, it would make you too uncomfortable".

B: What did she say?

A: She knew I wasn't mentally sound at the time. She was the one who called the cops, so I could get off work and go to the hospital to get medication.

C: Women can make you feel quite insane.

2011-05-04T00:45:00.000-04:00

"...and totally scheduled to cry wine tears over guys that just want to do me...even though I'm flattered and may miss the offers in my 40's..."

FAIL

2011-04-30T17:12:00.001-04:00

"Look at me, look at me!" <<-- the epitome of pathetic...

After hours of moping, staring at the wall, binge eating, crying and occupying myself with other unproductive activities, I finally decided to pour out my heart onto paper and move forward.

About a month ago, after a rigorous selection process and several rejection letters from teaching programs, I finally got accepted to a teaching fellowship. Perhaps, I don't do justice to my small everyday accomplishments, but it seemed like it was my first big victory in the past 7-8 years, since I won a scholarship to study in the US in high school. For once I felt again like I'm on a roll. My marriage, our social life, church, my productivity at work, everything seemed to be getting better. In a couple of months I would start my training, be enrolled in a master's program, and would have a full-time job with benefits already in august. I would...

Here's the catch. In order to retain my status as a fellow, I had to pass some standardized tests for teachers. With the dates lining up the way they did, I only had one opportunity to take the test for my subject at the last possible time before the deadline.

Fast forward four weeks later - I fail the test. We are not moving to a much bigger city. I'm not getting a job doing what I want. I'm out. Fail...not.

I don't know yet if I passed or not. The test was today. Feeling way too uneasy about it with so much being at stake.

We are the Queer. We are the Whore.

2011-04-28T23:59:00.002-04:00

http://networkedblogs.com/hbVeY

"I am the queer. I am the whore. and I’m desperate for someone with eyes and arms of grace to truly see me and to hold me into a second chance. and a third, and a fourth, and a fifteenth chance. and I want to be the scandalous grace-giver of eleventy-two chances to others who also need them. like me."

My hair smells with incense

2011-04-22T00:37:00.005-04:00

This entire week has been what seems like a never-ending 'work-church-sleep' marathon. My husband and I are observing Holy Week with the Orthodox Church that we've been attending for about half a year now. We are not members, yet I was never that much accepted and at ease with organized religion as I am with this church.

Peace be to all.

Agape

2011-04-18T01:24:00.002-04:00

If I could wish you one thing, I would hope that you find your soulmate. The people by my side, especially my husband, never stop reminding me with their actions how generous God's love is.

Ain't fair, you know

2011-04-15T00:27:00.006-04:00

How often do we do something knowing darn well that it's bad for us in the end? My friend shared a video, where Jamie Oliver was trying to show to kids how unhealthy processed foods are by demonstrating the way chicken nuggets were made. Despite the fact that the youngsters agreed that the ingredients looked disgusting, they all eagerly volunteered to taste Jamie's food afterwards.

I feel like I'm the same way with her. I look through her polished pictures, marvel at how well she can present herself, how outgoing/fun/creative she is, and inevitably start feeling worse about myself. No rational thinking that points at my life being pretty kick-ass as well (if not more) doesn't help. And unlike the kids, who actually get temporary enjoyment from eating nuggets, my hook is not even that fun. Why can't she just be less attractive?...So I can feel insecure about my smarts.

2011-04-13T01:30:00.007-04:00

It is official. Good moods and plenty of social interaction make me completely forget the road to this blog.

Wasted some more time on the design and extended my "About Me" page from one sentence to a few dozen now.

Knock on my door

2011-04-12T01:17:00.001-04:00

Knock on my door

I've been waiting for you

What is your name?

You look awfully tired

Tell me your story

I've heard many more

The one just like yours

Is a loner

Cover your eyes

I don't care how it looks

Forget what they said

It don't really matter

No longer just yours

Are the breaths that you share

I will help you get up

In the morning.

2011-03-29T23:01:00.003-04:00

"The mirror is a funny thing: it never shows you the way you are, it shows you the way you feel about yourself."

"You're a prolific author, Ray Bradbury"

2011-03-27T16:55:00.003-04:00

Rain drops for the first time

2011-03-20T15:48:00.004-04:00

After I first got lost and was late to a very important to me event, then spectacularly bombed the sample lesson I was preparing for for days, and finally got back to my car to find my first ever parking ticket on the windshield, a bit of encouragement -- even cheesy encouragement -- didn't seem bad at all.

I roamed through the bookshelves marked "Inspirational" while waiting for my interview at a nearby bookstore. GMH (Gives me Hope), a positive alternative to FML, looked rather appropriate for the moment. One of the pages described a girl who woke up to a sound of rain drops and her mom fixing breakfast. "She never cried harder in her life", it continued. Apparently, the girl was deaf from birth.

The story was too simplistic for my liking, but it made me wonder how it would be to hear a sound of someone cracking open an egg if you've never heard it before. What would it be like to start perceiving noises as an adult? I think I would cry too...because I'd be scared.

This too shall pass

2011-03-18T01:13:00.003-04:00

It's so good that high school doesn't last forever. One of my very old friends from the time I was an exchange student, found me at our little downtown bar tonight. He knew me at the time when I really sucked in life. The word "rough" doesn't do justice to how bad my first semester as an exchange student was.

The dude who found me tonight wasn't exactly a part of the cool crowd either. Skinny little freshman with the 'Beatle' hair, cracking voice and bad jokes. Now he is a fucking hot tattoo artist who plays in a band, goes to college, and savors life with his awesome girlfriend.

Things change. It's good to know that there are always people to walk with you through the bad changes to see the good ones come in the end.

2011-03-17T21:13:00.003-04:00

I need prayer but I usually don't feel comfortable asking people. Tomorrow is a very important day. I am capable of doing extremely well but ...there is always this 'but'. Please pray for me.

2011-03-13T01:22:00.002-05:00

2011-03-11T16:23:00.003-05:00

It's the last day for yet another teaching fellowship to either accept or reject my candidacy. When you're looking for a job, it's not uncommon to never hear back if you weren't selected. I used to hate it. It created false hope and made it harder to move on to another opportunity. This time I know for a fact that every candidate who got to the final stage will hear back within a two-week period. My two weeks should be over in a couple hours and I'm not at all anxious to get an e-mail that will pretty much rub my nose into my own mess, "Sorry..."

----------

Nope, the e-mail read "Congratulations..." :-)

2011-03-10T00:07:00.002-05:00

via The Lost Thing

2011-03-07T23:04:00.002-05:00

When you think you're stressed to the top, life throws more lemons, and you realize you were just fine.

Forgive me

2011-03-06T21:41:00.004-05:00

Today, in preparation for the Great Lent, Eastern Orthodox Church observed Forgiveness Sunday. The first time I heard about it was in one of my favorite movies, The Barber of Siberia.

Wikipedia explains that:

"Lent itself—begins on the preceding (Sunday) night, at a special service called Forgiveness Vespers, which culminates with the Ceremony of Mutual Forgiveness, at which all present will bow down before one another and ask forgiveness. In this way, the faithful begin Lent with a clean conscience, with forgiveness, and with renewed Christian love."

Today was my first experience of actually participating in the service. People would hold hands, look each other in the eyes and ask for forgiveness. A very tight hug came afterwards. With people I didn't know well or with those who were still young, it didn't have much of an effect. It was incredibly powerful to ask for forgiveness and give it when people genuinely meant it. My eyes got watery when I did it with my husband.

I wish I could practice the ritual -- maybe at least only in my mind -- with some people outside of the church. It brings a lot of peace to know that something you feel bad about is forgiven. One might feel even more relieved letting go and forgiving someone else. It is easier to live and love this way.

I am someone who has trouble letting go, perhaps more so than others, and know way too well that holding a grudge is like tying a rope over your own neck. There are a few people from my past and present, who I wish I could face, give them a firm hug and say with all sincerity, "I forgive you".

2011-03-05T13:10:00.006-05:00

2011-03-03T00:11:00.000-05:00

Somehow being aware of your cravings not coinciding with your needs does not change the fact that they are still there.

2011-02-27T23:29:00.001-05:00

In the light of recent disappointments in my life, instead of doing my work, I decided to get on Gmail and search my e-mails for "hold you". The idea, obviously, was to get a pick-me-up. One of the first e-mails read "Your language skills hold you back". Yeah. That's just what I needed.

Ramblings

2011-02-23T01:42:00.006-05:00

Am I the only one who ever pretended to be waiting on someone else while playing with her phone in public? What's worse, I don't even have texting.

My former best friend reemerged out of nowhere after us not talking for 6 years and her getting off the radar for pretty much everyone I knew. She said she was afraid I was rightly so too upset at her. I'm still puzzled about what she meant or what happened during those years. Not really my business any more. We moved on.

I think we never truly get over people, at least if it was something real and meaningful. Not just talking about romance. You can live perfectly fine, not ever worrying about them, but somewhere deep inside there will be a part of them -- maybe a really small one -- that became yours.

Sometimes our secrets rest with the most random people. You can be listening to someone and then in the end they say that they've never shared that with anyone else. You just shrug your shoulders and wonder why it happened to be you.

2011-02-22T19:46:00.000-05:00

All the baking recipes are for jiffy overachievers in the kitchen. It takes me half an hour to gather up most of the ingredients -- because at least something will always be missing -- google the substitute for that something, mix up everything in correct proportions and order, and only THEN I will preheat my oven. It is so not the first step in baking.

2011-02-18T00:21:00.003-05:00

With a big vanilla ice cream cone instead of a cigarette...

2011-02-17T22:51:00.000-05:00

I got my Praxis I scores back. Surprisingly, a few points short of perfect on Reading, very good on Math, and barely passed the Writing section. You, people, get the best of me. Enjoy!

Is America Depressed?

2011-02-14T01:42:00.002-05:00

The billboard I spotted on the way to church today.

Grammys tonight, so music is on my mind. From some of the hits:

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind

Do you know that there's still a chance for you
Cause there's a spark in you
Katy Perry - Firework

Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you're set

'Cause God makes no mistakes
Lady Gaga - Born This Way

Change the voices
In your head
Make them like you
Instead

You're fuckin' perfect to me
Pink - Fuckin' Perfect

It's not that I have a problem with the all-uplifting, go-baby, 'let's raise your self-esteem', 'cuz we're awesome' message. I love it! Makes you wonder though if there is a big need for such lyrics now.

Bad Dreams or Should I Talk to My Plants?

2011-02-13T02:27:00.002-05:00

So, let's say you get a recurring bad dream. Maybe not exactly the same, but the overall idea is always there. And maybe there is a tad bit of connection to reality in your dreaming, but it's definitely not there in present life. Like, if you have hurt yourself on thorns of a plant and now you get those god-awful gruesome nightmares where the thorns hurt your hands, face, get into your throat, blood all over. Well, my dreams aren't actually violent at all, just a lovely example.

The funniest thing is while you're having your frequent painful encounters with the imaginary plant, the real one is peacefully sitting somewhere outside, enjoying the sunshine, not hurting a fly. Yet your fear of all the bloodcurdling things the plant has supposedly done - who cares if it's just in your head - gets real. Yes, it is official, you are insane.

OK, speaking seriously it's sad that those stupid night experiences happening often enough slowly crawl into your life, messing with the way you perceive and deal with your "plant". Or maybe you were afraid of the thorns all along and it's a chicken and egg situation?

Either way, I probably should think about it less, so the dreams can just naturally go.

2011-02-13T01:50:00.000-05:00

Things are how they should be. Makes me happy.

2011-02-11T01:57:00.002-05:00

Today the BrainyQuote widget to the right says "If it were not for hopes, the heart would break." ~ Thomas Fuller.

Don't the same hopes cause our hearts to break?

My students were to take a test designed by the administration to measure how much they've learned since we started their remedial course. Some of them never bothered to open the packets and filled out their scantrons completely guessing. I thought I would cry. OK, I did.

Putting my foot down

2011-02-11T00:39:00.000-05:00

I hate it when I know that the reason I eat chocolate is not because I just want to have some chocolate. So often it's something else: stressed over work, I want to finally accomplish the things I set my mind to, I worry about - ironically- my weight, I just want to feel good. And it's a quick fix.

As I was shopping at Wal-Mart today, I recognized a few boys from my school. One of them brought such an unpleasant feeling, I walked faster so they don't have time to notice me. During my prep period, when "real" teachers get to work on their lessons or just relax, I had to go and sub in another class. Freshman Math.

At the end of the class I had a boy extending his arms, asking for a hug. Normally I would not find it appropriate...at all. I'm a young teacher in high school, you are a maturing freshman, I'm not your buddy or a mom or a girl to play around with. No touching, please. It helps to be from another culture, so people attribute unusual traits to your background rather than your personality. For some reason I let it slide this time.

It all happened so fast. Instead of my hands slightly touching his shoulders, I felt his arms suddenly grip my back, shifting my entire body weight onto his, and throwing my legs in the air somewhere at the level of the desks. For a second it all froze and I wanted to pretend it was not happening. Here he was, a skinny little freshman who dared to do this to me in front of the whole class. Define embarrassment.

When I'm at school, 'embarrassed', 'scared', 'disappointed', 'threatened', all translates into plain "mad"... I was still too ashamed to report the incident to the discipline.

'Tis the answer

2011-02-09T22:12:00.003-05:00

I suffocate them with chocolate...

2011-02-08T01:57:00.002-05:00

Today I got pulled out of my Math classes routine to sub for a health teacher for one period. I don't know exactly what the name of the class was, but the students were watching a video on how to say no, particularly in a context of someone pressuring you to have sex. It was one of those 80's videos where you wonder if they really haven't made a single video like this since then, but surprisingly almost everyone was paying attention.

In my mind I got back to the question someone asked me quite a bit back, what does sex mean to me. Today I thought trust. Even if it's non-committal sex, you need to have that temporary trust. Trust in your partner having some basic respect for you, that they will honor your "no" whenever it comes, that they will be clean, and that there will be no kiss-and-telling after the fact. I don't even know how you can honestly enjoy sex when you don't feel safe and secure with the other person. At least that's my woman's take on this.

Aching

2011-02-01T16:55:00.002-05:00

2011-02-01T02:05:00.004-05:00

I feel lonely. Not the type of 'lonely' when you long for someone to come and save you, I just feel that I need to move on my own for now. Sure, there is my husband. He's always with me, he's part of me. It's just other people seem farther than usual and I don't want to come closer at this moment.

My body feels like it's been inside out and upside down these past few days. Chills, high fever, speech difficulties. I couldn't get up for couple days straight. This morning, while crawling on the shower floor because of bad stomach spasms, I wanted to scream.

No matter what people say about insignificance of their bodies and soul being more important, if your body is f-ed up, good luck getting out a smart idea out of your head or helping other people while all you can concentrate on is physical pain. Body is a vessel, and I've been driving mine too far.

I feel so angry. It's really eating me up. I don't handle the feeling too well, but it takes time to work it out. What's worse, sometimes that anger turns inward, and that is when it feels like I can't cope. Such moods make me want to shut myself off for a while, when at the same time it's not really what I want.

I'd better go to sleep.

2011-01-25T22:38:00.001-05:00

How gratifying to one's ego it must be to utterly condemn as sinful behaviors to which others are inclined, but for which you personally have no natural proclivity.
John Shore

2011-01-24T00:08:00.002-05:00

I'm great.

I've been chronically tired for at least two weeks. Sleep is a precious commodity, as always, but now I trade it for trying to do something I plan to accomplish and then of course not doing it.

I have my own distractions.

Yesterday a friend called to say that he wants to shoot himself. A nice phrase to say in gesture when life plain and simple sucks. Too bad he meant it literally. He had a gun ready.

Sometimes it seems that no amount of love for someone can help them change the way they view themselves.

I'd want to cover him from everything that's so hard to bear, wrap my arms around him and somehow make it so that he would get it, just once, how valuable he is to me and so many around him.

"Would it change your opinion of me if I don't get into any of my teaching programs?" "I wouldn't care" "That's the point."

Fuck 'success' defined by others. It doesn't REALLY matter.

"You don't really care about what I'm saying, do you?"

I was so tired. I felt like a kid who resorts to throwing a tantrum when everything else fails. All that self-depreciating crap. I wanted to knock him down and punch his face to the point when he's bleeding and he can't have a single thought pertaining to what he said that night.

I have my own issues.

Foreign at home

2011-01-19T03:34:00.006-05:00

I'm tired of being foreign. When I turned 16 I came to the US as an exchange student from Ukraine and stayed here for a year. I later came back with my now-husband when I was 18. Now I'm 22. Five years of living here is still not enough to stop feeling foreign. I wonder what happens in fifty.

I was trying to remind my students today how to do addition of fractions. As I was writing out the problem, I could tell folks in the classroom were disagreeing with what I wrote. I looked at the board. It all seemed perfectly fine. I checked the answer again. Correct. Yet more and more of them -- now I'm sure with the addition of people who really had no clue but liked the idea of a teacher being wrong -- were getting frustrated. "She doesn't know what she's talking about", someone said.

It's not the first time something like this happened to me. It's like looking at a green object that you know is green and feeling like an idiot because of everyone around you claiming that it's blue, just because your culture has a slightly different margin for what is considered green. I used to write "7", "1", and "9" differently, long division looks completely backwards if you're from eastern Europe, you put a dollar sign to the right of the price, now apparently the way you are taught to notate the process for adding fractions is quite different as well. I still got the right answer.

Such things are small and are normally not as significant as what happened today, but they add up and it reflects on your competence and overall self-worth. Last time we went to Ukraine, I realized how confident I really am when I'm in a familiar environment, intuitively knowing how to act in certain situations and being able to relate to most people's past experiences. One of my friends, who's married to a Russian, said that when they went to his homeland for a vacation, his posture changed. He was the alpha-male all of a sudden.

I don't want to go back. I don't know where exactly I belong, but for now I live in the US. And this is home.

I don't like it when people ask if I think that Americans are stupid, obese, or anything else, assuming the paradigm of "her vs us". I don't view it this way. Love of my life is from around here, my friends are American, I pay taxes to the US government, I live here. I am a part of what constitutes AMERICA. True, I can't vote, but it doesn't mean that I am completely politically neutral or that I'm not interested in governmental matters of this country.

I speak with an accent, I may have a different background from you, sometimes my behavior and perspective amuzes, BUT it doesn't mean that I wouldn't want to finally learn the ways of this country, assimilate and fit in.

2011-01-15T03:42:00.002-05:00

"Something about young male elementary school teachers makes them hot."
"What? The fact they are young and male?"

The taste of being late

2011-01-13T04:01:00.010-05:00

I hate myself. At this moment.
I vehemently want to change what I am.

I feel so powerful, smart, ambitious, capable, yet I stall at the first opportunity of something I find really worthy.

When you fail at things that are not big to you, it doesn't matter. You might not even notice. It's a whole other story when you've been working on something painstakingly important to you and in the end realize you didn't do your best. I don't feel depressed. I'm disappointed in myself.

I am not good at a whole lot of things, but I break my back and try hard at things that matter to me. To have a good job, to kick ass at your job is important. It's vain to beat yourself up after you saw yourself failing at things you can do very well. It's too late. I know it's in my hands to change what I despise in me, to change the pattern I can recall since the early days of school, yet same ol' flaws come up again and again. I managed to acheive so much, yet as always I absolutely suck with organization.

This past few weeks I got invitations to move on with my application processes for two of the teaching programs I applied for. More assignments, interviews, tests. I was to write two essays for the third program, which I like the most. It was my big chance. A $30,000 stipend and a door opened to teaching. It will take too long to describe how much I invested in it, coming up with ideas, drafts, talking to one of the alums, straightening out questions. And then in the end I completely fail at doing justice to my efforts with preparation. I collect the missing puzzle pieces and fail to put them in place. I have them, but who cares? They are not where they should fit.

It's not the first time.

Sometimes I just need to say to myself "It's good enough" instead of keeping pushing on "should be better" and in the end settling for "better than nothing".

I want to chnage. I will.

Can we save it?

2011-01-12T01:54:00.007-05:00

"When I got married for the second time, there was no love. It was a matter of convenience...You know, I talk to some of my friends who've been married for 15-17 years, and they say it's not at all like it used to be when they were young. They stll say "I love you" to one another, but threre isn't that spark, excitement...just respect."

She stopped, perhaps noticing that I was getting carried away with my own thoughts. I knew exactly what she meant by that youthful passion that I'm blessed to still be enjoying: getting a crush on your husband again and again, longing to randomly kiss him or talk when you're away, and goofing around when you're together. I want to save it.

"Would you say that you love your husband now?"

"I love my life! I love my job. And I love my daughter..."

It seemed that she didn't finish, but she wouldn't go on.

7:35 de la Mañana

2011-01-09T00:51:00.008-05:00

When life suddenly turns into a musical...call 911. Or 091 just like in this bizarre short, filmed in Spain.

It's interesting and saddening to look at the behavior of people taken hostage or those who think they are in captivity. They form a world of their own with scripts and rules that must not be broken...

Not my day

2011-01-08T01:49:00.005-05:00

I like it how fast I can write a post when something is wrong, and then I never feel like coming back and explaining how it all got resolved...In general, sharing much of what's happening in my life seems wasteful, but that is my personal blog in the end.
It's like therapy. I don't punch people. I write.

Long story short, I didn't quit on teaching. If I do, it will certainly not happen right after a day like yesterday. I will not be defeated like that.

Today I generously wrote referrals. Kicked out a boy who's been giving me a hard time with his sexual remarks. Gave a fervent speech in response to "We'll just fail again!" comment and actually got the class to shut up and stare at me in complete silence...even after the speech was over.

"What do you have to lose? You are a circus tamer here. It's just a job. Now go home and be happy with your husband!" - Lola, a quite phenomenal fellow teacher.

Not my day

2011-01-06T17:02:00.000-05:00

I sat on the floor beside my desk, the only place that you couldn't see from the hallway through a glass area by the door. My body was trembling. I wanted to punch something or somebody, curse, cry, run, but get that negativity out. It was poisoning. At that point I wasn't exactly sure why I was hurting. Everything turned into a big blur with people walking over me.

So today apparently didn't go that well.

At lunch, while taking care of my in-laws' dog, I almost got in a wreck. My car spinned 180 degrees on a four-lane busy road. My knees were still shaking when I came late to class.

Next were the students. I think I actually might finally finish my teaching endeavors. This means a lot to me. I'm a long-term sub now for a class with the kids who failed their state tests multiple times. The school created a special class this semester to remediate the students, but it isn't that easy to find a teacher for them. My kids are high school sophomores, yet some of them are about to turn 18. Most of them have a hard time telling what's 12 minus 5. Pretty much all of them don't care to learn.

I thought I felt completely crushed when the 7th period was over. I'm not a newbie in this. Subs get to see some of the scariest things going on in schools, but it was getting way too much. My applications to grad schools for teaching seemed completely pathetic in the light of what happened. I closed the door and tried to concentrate on my lesson planning to not cry. It didn't work.

I checked my emails.

2011-01-04T01:05:00.002-05:00

My outside is finally catching up with the inside...if that makes any sense.

I feel so unbelievably comfortable with my new red-striped hair. Never thought it would make such a difference in my self-perception.
Now I want to get my nose pierced.
I also want to keep my job in education, get enrolled in a competitive master's program, and become a k-12 teacher, all in the near future. Yeah.

In the west women wearing ear rings are considered so normal, yet pretty much any other form of piercing is still frowned upon in professional circles. I remember, growing up in Eastern Europe I felt like an odd ball not wearing any ear rings. It was so common then for parents to pierce their daughters' ears from an early age.

Pierced ear lobe or a pierced ear cartilage - is there really such a principal difference that we need to address it separately in a dress code policy? My first sentence seems to make more sense than this.

Did he like our gift?

2010-12-31T02:29:00.006-05:00

"Gracious acceptance is an art - an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about accepting things, which can be much harder than giving."

Alexander McCall Smith

Winter holidays. I can't think of any other time of the year when so many gifts are exchanged at the same time. Good or bad, you are getting a gift, and I have yet to find a person who has never received something they didn't quite like or want.

Growing up I was taught to be generous and see joy in giving. No one really cared to explain the part about receiving. That is important.

Should you feel bad if the preset is too good or too expensive? is it OK to decline? Are you expected to give a big present in return? It gets even better if you feel foreign.

The way someone accepts a gift can add to - or completely ruin - the satisfaction from giving. You don't want to make someone, who's trying to be nice to you, uncomfortable by admitting that their gift...sucks, but then your pleasantry might set you up for years and years of bad presents. Kind of like faking orgasms.

My parents called today asking if my husband liked his new watch they sent him. We just got him a watch, the one that he personally picked and liked. He wasn't a big fan of the style they chose. It went to our "to be given to someone else at some point" shelf.

"So, did he like it?", my dad sounded so thrilled. I couldn't help it, "Yes, he did". I have a rather good relationship with my parents and lying to them sounded wrong, but I had no idea how to pull it off any better. "Very well", my dad was pleased.
Ironically, it's the second watch they bought for my spouse.

2010-12-27T17:43:00.003-05:00

"What a waste," one woman said. "Look at him. What a waste."

"Is he interested?" said her friend. "Do you think he's …"

"No. I mean yes. Yes, he's interested. No, he's not."

"What a waste."

"You've already said that."

"Well, so what? People repeat themselves. It's only in stories and plays that the dialogue is perfect."

From "A Whole World, An Entire Life" by Alexander McCall Smith

2010-12-23T23:09:00.000-05:00

I'm afraid to stop pushing, stop keeping on changing myself over and over, looking for something perhaps unattainable.

I'm afraid to give up trying to be loving and caring, stop running, not looking back at all those who found me pitiful.

I'm afraid to stop wanting to better myself, not learning, not being genuine, fall and not laugh, get contemptuous.

Yes, I'm afraid to not notice my flaws, not being willing to help, and stop being fearful.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-23T04:27:00.001-05:00

Sheldon: You bought me a present? Why would you do such a thing? I know you think you're being generous, but the foundation of gift giving is reciprocity. You haven't given me a gift, you've given me an obligation. The essence of the custom is that I now have to go out and purchase for you a gift of commensurate value and representing the same perceived level of friendship as that represented by the gift you've given me. Ah, it's no wonder suicide rates skyrocket this time of year. Oh, I brought this on myself by being such an endearing and important part of your life...

Big Bang Theory

Our last night

2010-12-23T02:14:00.004-05:00

We were sitting on the risers left by the huge Christmas tree at my school's memorial union. It was about 1 a.m. The wedding, celebrated above, was coming to an end. You'd see dressed up people, who just a few hours ago were probably all posh and proper, come out sweating and drunk. A rather nice-looking girl in high hills and a mini skirt gleefully went down the stairs, followed by a guy who maybe had a little too much and now was cursing very loudly.

My friend turned his head away from the scene, "Someone is going to get some action." We sat in silence and stared more at the couple, "...and I'm not". I was going to joke and ask how he was so sure, but then decided against it. I knew he wasn't getting any that night.

We didn't talk for a while thinking about our own things and listening to the sound of slow, distant music. It's amazing how comfortable it can be to simply sit together quietly if you are with someone you know very well. There is some sort of connection you feel and no one needs to say anything to acknowledge it.

"I wonder how different my life would be if I wasn't..attractive. You know? Would we be friends?". I looked at my friend waiting for an answer, but he didn't turn, "Yeah...I wouldn't have even started talking to you." He gave a faint smile.

Bastard. I knew he was honest. I smiled too.

2010-12-22T01:58:00.001-05:00

I liked it how this blogger put it:
"...difficulties in making friends as an adult, without seating charts to make the decisions for you."

Do I hear a bid for $9?

2010-12-21T03:06:00.008-05:00

Someone in my home town wrote a blog post about a charity date auction. There girls showed off their pictures for other people to bid for a date, with all proceedings eventually going to local orphanages. The auction was organized through vkontakte.ru, an Eastern-European equivalent of Facebook. Out of curiosity I followed the link and looked at an album with pictures of the lots.

As expected, there was a ton of flirty pictures of girls smiling in the camera. Some were eagerly, accidentally on purpose, exposing their cleavages.

There were a few that just really stood out. Above is one of them. I'm happy to note the lot got one of the highest bids...a few pennies short of 9 bucks.

Where is justice?

2010-12-20T02:39:00.000-05:00

I come here mostly when something is wrong. I dump it out. Then I go and enjoy life. You come here and stare at the depressing pic of black and white mannequins.

Or better yet...

I write all sorts of stuff, granted a lot of it is not that spectacular and might never be read by anyone. Then you show up out of nowhere and go through "Cry for help" category only. And leave no comments.

That's the game :)

2010-12-16T02:26:00.002-05:00

"What you tolerate becomes your standard."

I learned it the hard way - working at schools. Just show kids once you're OK with someone acting up and voila - the whole class is out of control.

It sucks when this happens with friends or "friends". You see how things are slipping and I don't know if there is a way to get back to the "higher" standards you once had. It gets into a cycle of treatment you are not happy about becoming a norm and you playing along like that's how it should be. At that point bringing that friend to have a serious talk is not even an option...perhaps because you know what will happen.

Zombies

2010-12-15T02:48:00.003-05:00

What amazes me in teaching is the amount of influence one is entrusted to have on their students. Teachers and administration have so much power while a child is at school. Certainly, there are school boards with their standards and evaluations, working on getting all the educators on one page, and if someone did something plain obnoxious it definitely would be known rather soon...but still. People are not robots and every teacher is a little bit biased. What if it's not a little in some cases?

I've had several job assignments when I spent as long as three weeks with the same students, being responsible for all the lesson plans. Not even a single person asked what we were up to in class.

Today I was working with a teacher who asked all the students who got the right answer to clap their hands above their heads, snapping their fingers in between the claps. Someone had the balls to ask why she makes them do that...besides some of the serious pedagogical reasons...because she can. How egoboosting is that.

I was a witness to a disciplinary meeting in our Middle School's gym the other week. All 7-graders were seated on the bleachers. To get the students on track our principal played a little game. He would ask the crowd to clap once when he crossed his hands and tap their foot whenever he did a vertical motion with his hand that in my head really asked for a high-pitched "chu-chu" accompaniment. There were about 350 kids in the gym with 5-6 adults standing directly in front of them all in a row. The doors were closed. We stood still, making sure everyone complied with what they were told. 1-2-1-2. Just like a small army, the kids clapped and tapped their feet amazingly in synk. If they wanted to, they could start a coup right there and run over all five of us before someone even got a chance to get out a walkie talkie. Instead they obediently moved their bodies. 1-2-1-2.

2010-12-09T03:16:00.002-05:00

I keep thinking about something in my head. Then I sit down and type it out. By the time I'm done it seems awfully dull and unintelligent.

Do you ever talk to someone online without seeing them and while sharing something private realize that you might be sending your message to the wrong person?

It's funny how I can stay up for a whole hour after I decided it would be nice to go to bed, and don't ever think much of it. Yet in the morning, when it's time to get up, even 5 minutes is a huge increment of time.

Just thinking aloud.

When am I going to watch you walk?

2010-12-06T01:45:00.007-05:00

Sometimes you're waiting for something and don't even notice how you're forming an expectation of how exactly it's going to happen.

It's like a girl wants to have a good life. She wants to get married some day..wear a beautiful dress...a puffy white one...with lace...a hand-beaded floral lace. And so it goes.

My best friend is finally graduating this semester after 5 and a half years of ups and downs. Our amazing friendship started out in college. During all four years that we've known each other he was a student, so it made sense to me his graduation would be a big deal.

It was one of our regular weekly phone calls. "When am I going to watch you walk?", I think I was getting more excited than the future graduate himself. "I'm not going to the ceremony". His words prompted a confused pause.

I had no idea before, it actually mattered to me that he participate at his commencement. Worse, I actually had a mental imagery hugging him in his gown. Don't know if that's because my caring levels for him occasionally shot up to something parent-like, but it was almost like he was stealing my moment.

I thought back to my graduation. It was winter, too. A day so cold your nostrils would freeze as soon as you went out. My family, who came for their daughter's wedding occurring a week later, were still very much confused about life in America. I remember sitting with all the graduates and worrying if they figured out where to sit, if they have any idea what's going on, or if my little brother is bored. I could hardly recognize anyone standing or sitting beside me, but the overarching spirit of cheer, joy, love, and new beginnings was so powerful, it was fascinating. Then followed a short walk across the stage with a padded folder that had no diploma, and a hug from my husband I will remember for a long time. I felt happy.

Now back to my friend...I know that events that bring joy to one person can turn out plain miserable to someone else, but it's not the point. What makes me sad is really not the fact that his graduation will not be as I imagined. It's his lack of enthusiasm about the future and me not being able to help out.

2010-12-01T21:39:00.003-05:00

You can't win all the time.
And if you don't win, you certainly can't hold it against the person who did, because that's the only way you ever really lose.

Wendy from South Park

Aviator

2010-11-21T02:02:00.010-05:00

You know how it is when you're talking to someone and then something interrupts you. And even after that distraction is long gone the person you were talking to doesn't ever bring up what you were saying, and you realize that they didn't really care that much all along. Yeah...

Today I met up with Aviator. I haven't seen him for 6 years. We used to be friends in high school, fell out of touch later, and then started talking again online less than a year ago. It was on and off, but conversations were pretty solid. I never shared much about myself. It was more about listening to him talk about his life, girls, and airplanes.

Aviator was an open book no matter what I asked. It was a little strange, I never complained though. He would say things like "I want to tell you something that I haven't told a single person...You have earned a lot of trust with me...I value you as not only a friend but a confidant as well." I honestly don't know how this happened. I guess it was more of a 'we like those to whom we self-disclose' sort of thing for him. Still, it was puzzling he never asked for much in return. I did share somewhat through questions, but he never dug deeper. I liked that.

We met at his work, at a very small but nice airport. It went...okay. I don't know how someone might seem so different once you see them in person, or maybe you suddenly realize you failed to acknowledge that all while talking online? When I was younger, I had a hard time telling who was a real friend to me, and I would often ask myself how I felt with them. After talking to Aviator I felt like crap. My job, my goals, my abilities, where I live, my phone for pits' sake. What a self-absorbed stuck-up asshole, I came to the conclusion when it dawned unto me that I love where I am even though it might not be a "successful" place for someone who's got it all figured out..or thinks he has.

I came to my computer and skimmed through one of our talks. "I look at the remnants of being heavy. when I go to a restaurant I am very uncomfortable with my back to a large number of people..." Aviator has shared some deep intimate shit with me, and that was nothing like how we talked when we met. Oddly that cocky stud I saw today seemed way more personable when not in person.

2010-11-21T00:36:00.005-05:00

"You're one in a million....
There are only like 6,000 of you."

Video Portrait

2010-11-17T00:16:00.010-05:00

The music, her being so stereotypically sexy, a lot of make-up, him on her lap and not vice versa, the smell of alcohol, "the world can wait' feeling or maybe blissful indifference to the norms, disgusting/strange/funny/beautiful mixed together, 1:21, and a very wet kiss.

2010-11-14T01:00:00.001-05:00

"People would tell me that I am very compassionate, but honestly I was always more fascinated my psychiatry than individual patients."

My husband and I met this guy through our friend. About 50-55 years old, Syrian, spent his childhood in Egypt, then moved to France, and now lives in the US in the middle of nowhere. Rather short, white hair, and glasses. He was a practicing psychiatrist until the point when a patient made him disabled during a serious assault.

We rode in the back seat of his very old German car. The ride was long and I enjoyed every minute of it. Looking out the window, wishing I had a camera, with my thoughts far away as the guy with a heavy accent shared about his amazing life.

I wondered if I cared about him per se or was it also, just learning about experiences and views that people have.

How can you not teach them?

2010-11-11T02:20:00.005-05:00

I had a dream today, standing in front of my students and screaming at the top of my lungs, "You know what? FUCK THAT!"
I thought about it again when I was actually in my classroom with kids talking and half of them not even having something to write with. The dream seemed very surreal, but not too hard to see where it came from.

Their previous teacher quit. My first day with these students was accompanied by various staff members dropping by and curiously looking at how we're doing. "His classes are pure hell", quietly said the school's secretary in the morning. The principal came in and empathetically inquired if the teacher left any plans. No.

I felt bad. The kids went through several subs this semester. They weren't learning. It's been four days with each day having at least one moment when I felt like breaking down in tears. 7 periods a day. I was trying SO hard yet I felt like I was still failing, they were still failing. I would spend a few minutes just sitting and spacing out when the day was over.

I found all sorts of different props left by the former teacher while looking for passes. It was his first job. He probably felt very passionate about what he was doing. He probably felt very disappointed and disillusioned. I was upset this happened. Upset that he gave up so soon, that there wasn't someone who held his hand and said, it's ok, just keep pushing through, here's what you can do. Somehow not upset at the kids.

My husband and I went to a convocation tonight with a speaker from University of Illinois talking about all the numerous problems that African-American boys in urban communities face. "Teachers ask me, how can I teach them? And I answer, how can you not?" He spent the entire speech describing what's going on, but I didn't hear a single practical solution to those issues.

I can tell you how I can not. I could write a separate blog about my challenges at school. Whether it's a person of color or not, some students just don't care. They simply don't see any value this education.

2010-11-09T01:38:00.003-05:00

"I do not care what sort of reputation this class has with other teachers. I am NOT going to take this sort of treatment! Things. Are. Going. To change!"
This chaotic and seemingly uncontrollable class suddenly got quiet. I was holding a pause while shifting my look from one student to another. I looked but I didn't really see them. All I could think about was that disheartening question...What the hell am I gonna do?
I have no plan whatsoever.

Day 2 out of ? tomorrow.

2010-11-05T19:55:00.006-04:00

Picture associations of me done by someone I haven't seen in years.

2010-11-02T02:06:00.001-04:00

"It's all about quantity, not quality. . . Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down."

From NaNoWriMo program introduction

I feel like I should apply this approach more often but instead to life in general. I'm "writing a lot of crap" anyway, might as well do it with confidence and not be afraid to try more.

What does sex mean to you?

2010-10-30T03:50:00.003-04:00

I was about to ignore this facebook event when something caught my eye. It was clearly one of those tupperware parties, when it's socially appropriate for someone to cash in on their friends, getting all their gals together for a stealth sales presentation and plenty of overpriced stuff one probably doesn't really need. This seemed somehow different though. I really had no idea what it was about. The description was too vague, and a pretty pink title "Pure Romance" wasn't helping. Candles? Perfume? As always, Google made my life easier. Adult Sex Toy Party...Well, that's romantic.
***
I showed up a little early. The room was full of women I didn't know, with rice-crispy penises and dough-covered weinners spread on the dining table. The party promised to be classy.

We started off with a very interesting question which probably was the most insightful part of the party. The host asked "What does sex mean to you?" She was going to hand a product for every answer and have us pass it around afterwards. Sex is sex, obviously. I think she meant how we perceive it, but everyone answered in their own way.

A rather big woman on the utmost left shrugged her shoulders, "I've been married for 15 years, so there isn't much going on with us. We fall asleep." She got a whip. A pretty lame object for someone whose sex life is that low if you ask me. Is that a way to wake him up?

Next there was this beautiful tall girl with wavy long hair, which gave her a very romantic mermaid look. "Sex means nothing. I'm sorry". I don't remember what she got. I was too lost in my own thoughts remembering that I once tried to learn that mantra, because "sex means nothing" did not at all come naturally to me.

The girl next in line was very obviously pregnant. For her sex was closeness and bonding. It seems like her answer hit home with several girls, including me.

There were many other honest answers: "Painful", "Work". A tom-boyish girl with a cute cap saying "Boobies make me smile", said "Love". Later I found out she was also the youngest.

By the time it was my turn, all my initial answers, like closeness and fun were taken. Sex is a very intimate expression of a sort. You entrust your partner to see you the way not everyone gets to see. My fantasy sex, the one where I did it with strangers, women, people who didn't care about me, was all about fun only, very hedonistic. Not just that in reality. "Pleasure" was my answer. I got lube. Plain and simple.

We later looked at different lotions and potions. My mouth was a little numb from "Great Head", I had something minty meant to be put on nipples on my lips, both wrists were covered with aromatic ointments the purpose of which I have long forgotten. Nothing truly useful.

"Dust it and he will lick it!", our host explained with a tone of a telemarketer. She held a nifty jar with...dust. In my experience he licks without dusting, I thought to myself, but didn't share.

The host used strange terms for genitals mispronouncing clitoris and calling vagina a frog. Things like "His junk" were more familiar, but then left clitoris to be the only medical term used. Overall, her presentation seemed a little too by-the-book and pitchy. Sometimes she was trying to be "frank" or made a comment that perhaps was meant to be a joke, yet no one laughed. Nevertheless she gave me what I want, so I shouldn't complain.

We finally moved on to the part I came for and was very curious about. Buzzing vibrators, shiny bullets, and quiet dildos started wondering across the room. It was the first time I ever saw such things with my own eyes and got to touch and examine everything in a setting that made it perfectly appropriate. This was the fun part. Women seemed to compete in their witty comments about products, definitely not being honest but fun.

In the end it was time to order. The host would invite us one by one to the improvised order room with the rest of the crowd staying in the main room. We talked about lotions...like it was the only thing anyone cared about at this party.

At one point I stopped flipping pages of Pure Romance catalogue and decided to go. It was difficult at the beginning. (this should tell you more why). And then it occurred to me that if I just ask something lame and go away, I'll hate myself later for wasting all this time. So I did what I usually do when I don't know what I'm doing - put it out in the open. "OK, I feel very awkward about this". The host looked at me with indifference, kind of like "you're wasting my time" sort of look. And so I just jumped on it and started asking. I asked so much the host seemed annoyed, but she was content when I left the room with a beaming smile. And I didn't care when everyone looked at me when I almost skipped to my car. I freaking got exactly what I wanted. And I was happy.

2010-10-18T16:24:00.001-04:00

Going to the first funeral of my life. Afraid...

2010-10-14T23:53:00.004-04:00

2010-10-09T02:36:00.003-04:00

"Hes married! Ew."

There is a strange sense of liberation once your fears have been confronted. You really don't want something to happen, and then, of course, it happens, and..life goes on.

Today the girl my husband was talking to, kind of outed our open relationship on Facebook. What's worse, she really didn't share the truth, but implied that my husband was cheating and overall misrepresented very much what was going on.

I went through several reactions since this happened. Strong anger, anxiety, plain frustration and self-pity. It was a slap in the face, a disgrace to my family. I was quietly watching as her friends were pouring dirt on my husband with her acting like she has no idea about the real deal. She blocked my husband, preventing him from saying a thing. I didn't want to comment and go down to her level engaging in this BS of a discussion.

Our marital arrangement is private and not up for public opinion. We never did anything that wasn't consensual with everyone involved, and were always open with them. If you have a problem, talk about it directly. And do not take this outside, that's just common courtesy.

I'm getting used to the idea of some people knowing by now. Them not knowing the real truth is what's disturbing. But I know that true friends will accept us for who we are and will know to ignore obvious lies. If they don't - oh well, it's OK. The world is full of people and new friends to come.

Despite all this crap, my marriage has been growing stronger with every day recently. I get a smile on my face just because of writing this last sentence and thinking about my husband.

They can judge. I'll be happiest with the life I live.

2010-10-02T02:10:00.008-04:00

“If you will call your troubles experiences, and remember that every experience develops some latent force within you, you will grow vigorous and happy, however adverse your circumstances may seem to be.”
John Heywood

I actually stumped my feet today. I thought only cartoon characters and out-of-control children do that...

Nope, things do not always go our way. Thinking rationally though, I am immensely --no other word will do-- grateful for each and every experience I have had in my life. Even with some issues at work this week, my occasional emotional instability, and results of bad judgement on my part, I can tell that I needed it. Another chance to become a little bit wiser. OK, it's not what I'm thinking when things are happening and I do tend to regret sometimes, but it surely sounds good afterwards, "I ~~got~~ can get wiser after this."

Now for the fun part - finally LEARNING, because...

"There is only one thing more painful than learning from experience, and that is not learning from experience."
Laurence J. Peter

Have a good weekend, everyone!

Why are you picking on me?

2010-09-29T01:47:00.011-04:00

I'm making an example of you, to send a message out to people everywhere: that if you want to hurt another human being, you'd better make damn sure they're the same color as you.

Judge from South Park

Funny...not.

I had a student calling me racist and threatening to get me fired. That was the first time someone ever played the race card on me. I felt like chuckling in disbelief, the accusations were so unjustified. In high school such things are considered a joke, almost a part of the local folklore, they come up so often. But this was middle school and the girl was dead serious. Two other students from the group of troublemakers joined her in this "riot" and stormed out of the classroom.

I wasn't afraid. I felt sad that this situation was happening. Students who were the only ones continually disrupting the class, had all the courage to blame it on the issue of race, failing to adhere to reason and my explanations. The girls were not using race just as an excuse, at least not obviously so. I still think that at least one of them sincerely believed she was being mistreated because of the color of her skin. The matter ended with all the girls apologizing to me..of course not without a slight nudge from the discipline office.

Nevertheless, there are so many other students out there perceiving teachers as enemies, whose every second is occupied thinking up of some evil ploy to mistreat them. No, in their eyes teachers are not reprimanding kids for behavior issues or performance in school. It's either ethnicity, socioeconomic status, or anything else that doesn't have to do with something in students' hands to change. It's always unfair.

Schools without strong connection between educators and administration could be creating a serious problem reinforcing such mentality of irresponsibility, punishing teachers for students' misunderstanding -- or sometimes even -- straight-up lying. Children learn that this is not their fault, it's not up to them to change anything. A lot of the times in these situations I wonder what parents' views are on their child's education.

Checks and balances are great. That's what keeps this country from falling into a swamp of sweeping corruption. In this situation though teachers, parents, and students can not afford to point fingers and fight. We're all in the same boat here...we should be...we aren't. As one of my students once told me, "I'm going to write a referral on YOU!"

2010-09-26T01:48:00.006-04:00

Her: Hun, I have an announcement. Tomorrow, on the twenty...whatever the date is, I'm officially starting to lose weight. So I want you to point out if you see me eating...

Him: You are pretty.

2010-09-22T23:56:00.004-04:00

Did you ever cut someone off your life who was a friend?

11:28 PM aviator: Yes. A few times

11:29 PM me: Why?

aviator: Why what

me: Why would you shut someone out of your life who was a friend to you?

11:30 PM aviator: I didn't agree with their actions and the path they wanted me to follow them down

11:31 PM me: I see

and you never looked back on those decisions?

aviator: No

2010-09-18T00:34:00.005-04:00