Music has always been a huge part of transportation for me, and I'm not strictly speaking emotional distances. I have always been a huge believer that what you are listening to while driving is the single most important part of driving. If you're tired, then the choice of The Decemberists is probably ill-advised, because that will cause you to veer into oncoming traffic on your way home from a funeral (or maybe that's just me). If you're driving 300 miles home starting at midnight because you had a full day of class, rehearsal, and an improv show, then might I suggest cranking classic Brittney Spears and Eminem. There's nothing in there that is going to let you nod off.
But, as I was waking up this morning, getting ready for today, letting iTunes play whatever it wanted to in the background, Train's "Drops of Jupiter" came on. For about two weeks in high school, I was really into this song. And I still like this song, but mostly because it reminds me of one specific memory.
I was getting out of a long rehearsal. This must have been tenth grade, because I was carrying a backpack that weighed about 85 pounds, threatening to tip me backward with every step. At one point, it almost realigned my spine into skuliosis, but that's another story for another day. Anyway, I got into my father's truck, and this song was playing. My dad, who had been waiting on me, was singing along to it. For some reason, I just found this absolutely bizarre.
My father is someone who loves classic rock. And some classic pop. But he's the quintessential my-taste-in-music-froze-in-my-twenties person. I imagine that that happens a lot. However, there's not really a huge selection of stations in south GA that aren't Christian, country, or rap, so the one 80's through present day station was his general fixture. And he ended up liking it.
I told this story to K'Fain a few years ago and she said, "Of course your dad liked "Drops of Jupiter." Everybody's dad likes Train. Nobody you know actually likes Train except for your dad." I laughed, and we probably kept watching Law and Order: SVU.
---
Posts may be sporadic for the next two weeks because Camp City Year is ramping into its home stretch. Keep safe 'til then, and look for posts from the dark side.
Quick Note(s)
People who have nothing to show for their lives ragging on people who are working their way up the ladder might be my new biggest pet peeve.
I'm not sleeping enough or well these days.
Listening to people talk about shoes makes me want to put my eyeball beneath an icicle that's about to fall.
I'm not sleeping enough or well these days.
Listening to people talk about shoes makes me want to put my eyeball beneath an icicle that's about to fall.
The Safety of Devotion
I almost punched a dude in the face today. So, I'm walking home from work at 10:30 PM. I live in Koreatown, which isn't an awful part of Los Angeles, but it gets sketchy after about 9:00 if you're by yourself. So, I turn onto my street, and I see this girl running down the sidewalk straight towards me. About three steps behind her is an African-American dude about 5'11" chasing her.
She runs up to me, grabs me, and the dude is standing in front of me, looking at me through eyes that are clearly crossed. I pull back to punch him. Then, the girl lets go of me and I realize that it's my coworker BG who lives in my building. She says not to worry, that it was one of her friends and she was just fooling around. She asked me about what was going on in life, and then she left on her merry way. I walked home, my heart frozen in my chest.
Last week, a crazy Asian woman followed me four blocks home. She was screaming at me while I was on the phone with my mother.
Here's the deal: I always walk with some sort of weapon in my hand. My mom bought me a taser for Christmas. I haven't carried it because I thought it was excessive. And it is, if I'm coming home at 6 or 7 and staying in my part of K-Town. But, if I'm going to be getting home after the trains turn into hobo jungles, then I'm going to start carrying it because I don't feel comfortable otherwise. I always make sure that if a female coworker is going home by herself late at night that I go with her as far as I can because, really, LA does a shit job of keeping its public transit system safe and there's almost no police presence downtown after sundown.
Regardless, I always walk with my keys wrapped in my fingers so that if I have to punch somebody, I can hopefully puncture their skin and make them bleed.
It's not about being paranoid; it's about being safe. And because someone acted like an idiot tonight, a completely innocent person almost got their face slashed. I'm working 13-15 hour days and being harassed does not fit into my daily schedule.
But besides that, my day was amazing.
She runs up to me, grabs me, and the dude is standing in front of me, looking at me through eyes that are clearly crossed. I pull back to punch him. Then, the girl lets go of me and I realize that it's my coworker BG who lives in my building. She says not to worry, that it was one of her friends and she was just fooling around. She asked me about what was going on in life, and then she left on her merry way. I walked home, my heart frozen in my chest.
Last week, a crazy Asian woman followed me four blocks home. She was screaming at me while I was on the phone with my mother.
Here's the deal: I always walk with some sort of weapon in my hand. My mom bought me a taser for Christmas. I haven't carried it because I thought it was excessive. And it is, if I'm coming home at 6 or 7 and staying in my part of K-Town. But, if I'm going to be getting home after the trains turn into hobo jungles, then I'm going to start carrying it because I don't feel comfortable otherwise. I always make sure that if a female coworker is going home by herself late at night that I go with her as far as I can because, really, LA does a shit job of keeping its public transit system safe and there's almost no police presence downtown after sundown.
Regardless, I always walk with my keys wrapped in my fingers so that if I have to punch somebody, I can hopefully puncture their skin and make them bleed.
It's not about being paranoid; it's about being safe. And because someone acted like an idiot tonight, a completely innocent person almost got their face slashed. I'm working 13-15 hour days and being harassed does not fit into my daily schedule.
But besides that, my day was amazing.
Some Random Thoughts About Today
Today, I left my apartment before my roommate woke up and arrived home after she had already fallen asleep. I plan on working on the new play, and I'm sitting here writing a blog post. I didn't have time to check my work e-mail today, so I'm going to do that too. Also, because I didn't get the job in Boston, I'm going to stay up and apply for jobs.
---
Okay, slight break in the writing time. I just updated my essays for the job I applied for last year, and I'm going to resubmit them as soon as there online server stops screwing up. Basically, I know that I'm going to be done with this job and this organization come June, so I need to have a plan about what I'm doing after that is finally done.
By the way, for anyone who was just wondering, working 14 hours a day sucks. Working 14 hours a day for $3.57/hour really sucks.
I wish I had something more clever to say than just a life update, but there you go. Look for pictures about the service project garden that I'm doing in the near future.
---
Okay, slight break in the writing time. I just updated my essays for the job I applied for last year, and I'm going to resubmit them as soon as there online server stops screwing up. Basically, I know that I'm going to be done with this job and this organization come June, so I need to have a plan about what I'm doing after that is finally done.
By the way, for anyone who was just wondering, working 14 hours a day sucks. Working 14 hours a day for $3.57/hour really sucks.
I wish I had something more clever to say than just a life update, but there you go. Look for pictures about the service project garden that I'm doing in the near future.
Change of Plans
I didn't get the job I applied for in Boston. So, now I have to figure out where I'm going to be working next year on top of everything else that I'm trying to shove into days that literally don't have enough hours in them.
Thank you for your well wishes. No, I don't want to talk about it. No, I have no idea where I'll be come July. Yes, I am listening to "Illumination" by Gogol Bordello on repeat.
Okay, then.
Thank you for your well wishes. No, I don't want to talk about it. No, I have no idea where I'll be come July. Yes, I am listening to "Illumination" by Gogol Bordello on repeat.
Okay, then.
New Job Prospects
K'Fain, Catie, and I always said it would never happen to us. Every single time the question was asked, we would cringe in disgust and immediately refute it.
"Oh, you're getting an English degree. What are you going to do with that? Teach?"
First off, this is offensive. As if the only thing that an English degree gives you the ability to do is teach other people English. I guess that they think that us guarders of the moth-eaten texts must have a single track mind and want to inflict learning on the world at large. Never mind the huge number of publications that need writers and editors. Forget the fact that reading comprehension, higher level thinking skills, creativity, imagination, and an exposure to a wide variety of issues comes from an English degree. And never mind the fact that many English degree holders have gotten very distinguished M.R.S. degrees in life that have made teaching unnecessary. Regardless of these things, no, we shouted, we didn't want to be teachers.
Then Catie got a job as a Parapro and she's getting her Master's in Education.
And I work for a nonprofit out in Los Angeles that tutors in some of the lowest-performing schools in the region.
Tomorrow, I find out if I've got a job with City Year Care Force. I really want it. I know that I do. I think that it's an amazing experience that could very well change the course of my life.
But...
I bought the Kindle edition of Teach Like a Champion because it's not going to be available for another month in book form and I wanted to implement the tips in there into my teaching as soon as possible. I read education-oriented articles. I'm constantly checking out books on contemporary education. I find myself making flash cards, crunching student data, fretting about the achievement gap, and praying not to get the elementary school crud again. But, I love my kids. My third graders are fantastic. My first graders are so full of life. I know that I can make a difference there. I know I can. But, I'm just getting good at this and this job is almost over. I've only got three months left in this job. That's nothing.
I said that I'd never come back for another year in Los Angeles. I can't take it. This isn't my city. But suddenly...I find myself thinking how much better I could be next year. I'm thinking about what I would have to do become a teacher once they stop firing all the teachers out here.
Never say never, I suppose. I just may find myself spouting rhetoric at kids for another year. But I want it to be the same kids. I came here to do a job...and it most certainly isn't done yet.
"Oh, you're getting an English degree. What are you going to do with that? Teach?"
First off, this is offensive. As if the only thing that an English degree gives you the ability to do is teach other people English. I guess that they think that us guarders of the moth-eaten texts must have a single track mind and want to inflict learning on the world at large. Never mind the huge number of publications that need writers and editors. Forget the fact that reading comprehension, higher level thinking skills, creativity, imagination, and an exposure to a wide variety of issues comes from an English degree. And never mind the fact that many English degree holders have gotten very distinguished M.R.S. degrees in life that have made teaching unnecessary. Regardless of these things, no, we shouted, we didn't want to be teachers.
Then Catie got a job as a Parapro and she's getting her Master's in Education.
And I work for a nonprofit out in Los Angeles that tutors in some of the lowest-performing schools in the region.
Tomorrow, I find out if I've got a job with City Year Care Force. I really want it. I know that I do. I think that it's an amazing experience that could very well change the course of my life.
But...
I bought the Kindle edition of Teach Like a Champion because it's not going to be available for another month in book form and I wanted to implement the tips in there into my teaching as soon as possible. I read education-oriented articles. I'm constantly checking out books on contemporary education. I find myself making flash cards, crunching student data, fretting about the achievement gap, and praying not to get the elementary school crud again. But, I love my kids. My third graders are fantastic. My first graders are so full of life. I know that I can make a difference there. I know I can. But, I'm just getting good at this and this job is almost over. I've only got three months left in this job. That's nothing.
I said that I'd never come back for another year in Los Angeles. I can't take it. This isn't my city. But suddenly...I find myself thinking how much better I could be next year. I'm thinking about what I would have to do become a teacher once they stop firing all the teachers out here.
Never say never, I suppose. I just may find myself spouting rhetoric at kids for another year. But I want it to be the same kids. I came here to do a job...and it most certainly isn't done yet.
Brainstorm: "Nothing Much" new project
Working title: Nothing Much
Inspiration:
New York Times article stating that Projection Design is now a major at the Yale School of Drama because of the prevalence of projection use in contemporary theatre.
Skype call on March 12, 2010 with Jennifer H. where we caught up with life while being eight time zones away from each other.
Teisch's (sp?) play Speed of Darkness about a modern family having their skeletons dragged out of the closet.
Plot:
Andrew and Roxanne were best friends in college. It is now eight years later. Andrew has settled down with a wife and kids, house, the American Dream-esque existence. Roxanne is in Africa (right now, S. Africa...might change with research process) with Doctors Without Borders. They Skype each other and catch up. Play opens with seemingly banal conversation.
Roxanne gets leave to go back to the states. Having no family, she decides to go visit Andrew. This throws things apart for Andrew because the life of his perfect wife and two children doesn't exist anymore--wife died in a car crash with one (maybe both) of the children. Andrew maintains facade with Roxanne because its the only place in his life where he can pretend the happiness exists that he thinks he would've had with his family.
Roxanne imparts on a task to save him while at the same time struggling between the two calls of duty: does she save her longtime friend who has no one else or does she go back to her calling as a doctor in the part of the world that truly needs her?
Motif throughout the show will be video calls between characters in different areas projected on screen (like they appear on a computer). This will provide the contrast between what people say when they communicate between computers and the reality of life that doesn't fit on a webcam. Are we who we really are when other people are watching, or do we all become the film editors of our own lives.
Inspiration:
New York Times article stating that Projection Design is now a major at the Yale School of Drama because of the prevalence of projection use in contemporary theatre.
Skype call on March 12, 2010 with Jennifer H. where we caught up with life while being eight time zones away from each other.
Teisch's (sp?) play Speed of Darkness about a modern family having their skeletons dragged out of the closet.
Plot:
Andrew and Roxanne were best friends in college. It is now eight years later. Andrew has settled down with a wife and kids, house, the American Dream-esque existence. Roxanne is in Africa (right now, S. Africa...might change with research process) with Doctors Without Borders. They Skype each other and catch up. Play opens with seemingly banal conversation.
Roxanne gets leave to go back to the states. Having no family, she decides to go visit Andrew. This throws things apart for Andrew because the life of his perfect wife and two children doesn't exist anymore--wife died in a car crash with one (maybe both) of the children. Andrew maintains facade with Roxanne because its the only place in his life where he can pretend the happiness exists that he thinks he would've had with his family.
Roxanne imparts on a task to save him while at the same time struggling between the two calls of duty: does she save her longtime friend who has no one else or does she go back to her calling as a doctor in the part of the world that truly needs her?
Motif throughout the show will be video calls between characters in different areas projected on screen (like they appear on a computer). This will provide the contrast between what people say when they communicate between computers and the reality of life that doesn't fit on a webcam. Are we who we really are when other people are watching, or do we all become the film editors of our own lives.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)