Here's are conversations I've had with students:
Montez: Ms. Lawson they talkin' 'bout Ritalin!
Ms. Lawson: Okay...
Montez: I take dem jawns!
Ms. Lawson: Okay...
Montez: I take dem red ones with the little bumps!!! I take dem red jawns!!!
Then Montez ran around the room.
Ivory: You gonna spend all that money on a cruise?
Ms. Lawson: I guess so. I like spending my money to see new places.
Jamal: Then give me your money and come tour my house! We got one of them futon beds!
Nigeria: Ms. Lawson! I'm going to see that new Michael Jackson movie!
Ms. Lawson: That sounds fun.
Nigeria: I love Michael Jackson!
Khalil: Yeah, you look like one them Thriller joints.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
My students are writing autobiographies. Here's one:
My name is ******* ********. I live in phila all my life. I’m in love with my baby dad he is the one that I can talk to when I’m down. My dad was not always in my life he was traveling all the time when I was 3 and my sister was 1 that wit my mom told me and my sister and then he came when I was 15teen and my sister was 12. He is going out of my life and my sister life like it’s a game but now I know wit was going on with that. Sometime I feel like he don’t love us because he is always comeing in and out our life like I said before he think it’s a game who don’t need a dad in they life. I need to know is that’s y I’m haven a baby because I look for love from man. When I need it from him but it look like he don’t gave a fuck. So all this time we was a game to him. He is going now and I’m 16teen about to be 17teen and my sister is 14teen now. I’m about to have a lil one soon by the love of my life it’s a boy that wit I need in my life.
Dang.
My name is ******* ********. I live in phila all my life. I’m in love with my baby dad he is the one that I can talk to when I’m down. My dad was not always in my life he was traveling all the time when I was 3 and my sister was 1 that wit my mom told me and my sister and then he came when I was 15teen and my sister was 12. He is going out of my life and my sister life like it’s a game but now I know wit was going on with that. Sometime I feel like he don’t love us because he is always comeing in and out our life like I said before he think it’s a game who don’t need a dad in they life. I need to know is that’s y I’m haven a baby because I look for love from man. When I need it from him but it look like he don’t gave a fuck. So all this time we was a game to him. He is going now and I’m 16teen about to be 17teen and my sister is 14teen now. I’m about to have a lil one soon by the love of my life it’s a boy that wit I need in my life.
Dang.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Vaux Vaux Vaux
I started work two weeks ago. The first week was staff development and stuff like putting together my classroom. My classroom has beautiful bulletin boards that I spent a lot of time on...however, the students don't seem to care very much. Chumps.
The People I Work With: RULE. Everyone is extremely nice and helpful. I couldn't be happier with my coworkers. There are also a few new teachers that I've become friends with, and that's really nice. I look forward to coming to work each day because I know that, if nothing else, there are wonderful people going through the same things as me.
So...last week was intense. Tuesday there was a 14 year old murdered on Cecil B. Moore and 29th. He was the brother of one of my current students, related to two of my summer school students, and the friend of a few more of my students. I wish the children around here didn't have to grow up so fast.
I remember over summer school that one of my student's said that one of his rights is to stay out as late as he wants because he's a grown man. He's 17. He, like all the students at Vaux, is far from grown. I don't really know how to explain that to them, though. It's hard to explain that being grown is having control over your actions through doing what is right, and what needs to be done. Being grown is not doing whatever the fuck you want because nobody is standing up to you. There is a big difference between being independent and being abandoned.
Anyway, that was day two. I mean, the finding out about that little boy. It was horrifying. It's just one of those things that no matter how much I know it's inevitable, it still shocks the hell out of me.
Day two I found out one of my 14 year olds is pregnant. Jesus Christ. Today...a week later...my students found it necessary to start talking about how none of them are virgins. They're 14-15. That's gross. I told them that's gross, but they didn't care. They did stop talking about it when I told them to, though. That's about the only thing they've done that I've said to do.
I found out that the grandmother of one of my students is suing the school district because they screwed up her education. Big Surprise. It's hard to find a student at this school that hasn't been screwed over by at least one negligent teacher. Apparently she's showing her grandmother everything I give her to do, which is terrifying. I've been teaching for a week and I'm going to be put under the microscope by some attorney. I think they're trying to show that it's the district and not just the former school that is inadequate. The lawyer picked Vaux, probably because we're out of compliance on some of our paperwork. The thing is, I can't really go to court and say "LOOK BUDDY, I'M TRYING." The attorney doesn't care that I"m trying really hard to be a good teacher, or that our Special Education liaison is working extremely hard to get this girl's paper work in order, or that we really do have a good special education team that really wants to help these kids. All those "reallys" just aren't good enough. It doesn't prove anything. It's very overwhelming.
I love my students. I do. But they just won't listen to me. They have no attention span. And they're so far behind it just takes so long to do anything. I feel like I'm not teaching, and that depresses the hell out of me. I wish they hated me and did all their work. Instead they like me and talk out of turn too much. I think that's the problem: I'm young and they know I love them. I'm giving out detentions left and right.
I will get them to listen to me. I will get them to do their work. I will get them to learn. I will get them to make AYP.
The People I Work With: RULE. Everyone is extremely nice and helpful. I couldn't be happier with my coworkers. There are also a few new teachers that I've become friends with, and that's really nice. I look forward to coming to work each day because I know that, if nothing else, there are wonderful people going through the same things as me.
So...last week was intense. Tuesday there was a 14 year old murdered on Cecil B. Moore and 29th. He was the brother of one of my current students, related to two of my summer school students, and the friend of a few more of my students. I wish the children around here didn't have to grow up so fast.
I remember over summer school that one of my student's said that one of his rights is to stay out as late as he wants because he's a grown man. He's 17. He, like all the students at Vaux, is far from grown. I don't really know how to explain that to them, though. It's hard to explain that being grown is having control over your actions through doing what is right, and what needs to be done. Being grown is not doing whatever the fuck you want because nobody is standing up to you. There is a big difference between being independent and being abandoned.
Anyway, that was day two. I mean, the finding out about that little boy. It was horrifying. It's just one of those things that no matter how much I know it's inevitable, it still shocks the hell out of me.
Day two I found out one of my 14 year olds is pregnant. Jesus Christ. Today...a week later...my students found it necessary to start talking about how none of them are virgins. They're 14-15. That's gross. I told them that's gross, but they didn't care. They did stop talking about it when I told them to, though. That's about the only thing they've done that I've said to do.
I found out that the grandmother of one of my students is suing the school district because they screwed up her education. Big Surprise. It's hard to find a student at this school that hasn't been screwed over by at least one negligent teacher. Apparently she's showing her grandmother everything I give her to do, which is terrifying. I've been teaching for a week and I'm going to be put under the microscope by some attorney. I think they're trying to show that it's the district and not just the former school that is inadequate. The lawyer picked Vaux, probably because we're out of compliance on some of our paperwork. The thing is, I can't really go to court and say "LOOK BUDDY, I'M TRYING." The attorney doesn't care that I"m trying really hard to be a good teacher, or that our Special Education liaison is working extremely hard to get this girl's paper work in order, or that we really do have a good special education team that really wants to help these kids. All those "reallys" just aren't good enough. It doesn't prove anything. It's very overwhelming.
I love my students. I do. But they just won't listen to me. They have no attention span. And they're so far behind it just takes so long to do anything. I feel like I'm not teaching, and that depresses the hell out of me. I wish they hated me and did all their work. Instead they like me and talk out of turn too much. I think that's the problem: I'm young and they know I love them. I'm giving out detentions left and right.
I will get them to listen to me. I will get them to do their work. I will get them to learn. I will get them to make AYP.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
I moved into my new apartment. I'm sleeping on an air matress right now, but that's comfortable enough and I will soon get a bed. I went out with Quami and his friends on Friday night. Saturday during the day we all went to the park, and that was also a lot of fun...except when I tripped over a curb. Whatever. I like the location of this apartment much, much more AND it has air conditioning. There is a pizza place across the street and a bar on the corner. The bar is called DIRTY FRANK'S, which is how I know it's awesome. In actual important apartment news: living with Quami is very nice.
Friday, August 7, 2009
I am going to take some time out to write about something that isn't happening in Philly.
So, the guy I have subletting my apartment, Diego, is a giant fucking asshole. He's refusing to pay for August rent. That's a real fucking nice thing to do when your landlord is 10.5 hours away. He will rue the day. RUE IT.
So, the guy I have subletting my apartment, Diego, is a giant fucking asshole. He's refusing to pay for August rent. That's a real fucking nice thing to do when your landlord is 10.5 hours away. He will rue the day. RUE IT.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Snappin' Off
I'm going to write about teaching SuMmA sKeWl now. I'm not going to change any names because I liked all my students and if they happen to somehow stumble upon this blog, I think they should know exactly what I think about them. I'm not going to use last names, though, mostly because I don't know most of those.
So, to give yous (that's how Philly people pluralize a lot of the time) an idea of how my Practice Teaching (PT) worked, it was like this:
Ms. Rami, like many other teachers, agreed to teach English 3 (for juniors) at Vaux High School for the summer session. Like the general summer school model, this happens at a bunch of schools all over the city. Ms. Rami also agreed to have (2) Fellows with her in the class, and agreed to let said Fellows teach sometimes. Kim and I were her "said Fellows."
First, I'd like to note that Ms. Rami was an excellent Cooperative Teacher (CT). She is an excellent teacher, both to me and the class. She gave me awesome advice and ideas, and really good critiques. She was always looking out for me and trying to make sure I was getting the most I could out of teaching summer school. And I did. I couldn't have gotten a better CT.
English 3 is a half boring, half really fun class. It was American Lit, with a focus on the autobiography, from the Revolution until almost now. I got to teach Edgar Allen Poe, Richard Wright, N. Scott Momaday, James Baldwin, Robert Frost, and about Modernism and Transcendentalism v. Romanticism. I didn't really like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, mostly because they're old, dead, white men. I'm not a big fan of reading those, even if they are the Founding Fathers. The students liked Richard Wright the best, which isn't surprising since he grew up in the same situation as a a lot of them.
I think I should take a minute here to talk about Vaux High. It's in a really rough area of North Philly. The other day I was at my new apartment hanging out with Zofia, Quame and Quame's friend whose name I dont' really remember. The friend told me that he works for this Philly non-profit to end homelessness. He told me that they did research and the majority of homeless people in Center City (downtown) are from one neighborhood. And this neighborhood, he said, was about four blocks from Vaux. Then Quame told me a story about how he knew this really burly man that worked for a cable company. One night he was in that neighborhood and had to disconnect someone's cable after dark. He climbed up the pole, shut it off, and by the time he got down there was a man at the bottom holding a gun to his head telling him to fix the cable. Now, if that's what happens to a large black man in that neighborhood, think about what my students have been living through their whole lives. I understand things aren't fair. Really, I get it. But it just hurts so much to understand where my students are living but to not understand how they live.
MORE TO COME BECAUSE ZOFIA IS WAITING FOR ME TO DRIVE HOME.
So, to give yous (that's how Philly people pluralize
Ms. Rami, like many other teachers, agreed to teach English 3 (for juniors) at Vaux High School for the summer session. Like the general summer school model, this happens at a bunch of schools all over the city. Ms. Rami also agreed to have (2) Fellows with her in the class, and agreed to let said Fellows teach sometimes. Kim and I were her "said Fellows."
First, I'd like to note that Ms. Rami was an excellent Cooperative Teacher (CT). She is an excellent teacher, both to me and the class. She gave me awesome advice and ideas, and really good critiques. She was always looking out for me and trying to make sure I was getting the most I could out of teaching summer school. And I did. I couldn't have gotten a better CT.
English 3 is a half boring, half really fun class. It was American Lit, with a focus on the autobiography, from the Revolution until almost now. I got to teach Edgar Allen Poe, Richard Wright, N. Scott Momaday, James Baldwin, Robert Frost, and about Modernism and Transcendentalism v. Romanticism. I didn't really like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, mostly because they're old, dead, white men. I'm not a big fan of reading those, even if they are the Founding Fathers. The students liked Richard Wright the best, which isn't surprising since he grew up in the same situation as a a lot of them.
I think I should take a minute here to talk about Vaux High. It's in a really rough area of North Philly. The other day I was at my new apartment hanging out with Zofia, Quame and Quame's friend whose name I dont' really remember. The friend told me that he works for this Philly non-profit to end homelessness. He told me that they did research and the majority of homeless people in Center City (downtown) are from one neighborhood. And this neighborhood, he said, was about four blocks from Vaux. Then Quame told me a story about how he knew this really burly man that worked for a cable company. One night he was in that neighborhood and had to disconnect someone's cable after dark. He climbed up the pole, shut it off, and by the time he got down there was a man at the bottom holding a gun to his head telling him to fix the cable. Now, if that's what happens to a large black man in that neighborhood, think about what my students have been living through their whole lives. I understand things aren't fair. Really, I get it. But it just hurts so much to understand where my students are living but to not understand how they live.
MORE TO COME BECAUSE ZOFIA IS WAITING FOR ME TO DRIVE HOME.
Catching Up
Oh God. I haven't updated in so long. It's because so much was happening and because I didn't really have internet. I will start at the beginning of July, and the beginning of Institute, now. I plan to go by topic and not chronologically because I don't remember time details.
HOUSING
Zofia and I are having a great time living together. She's a wonderful roommate and a good and fun friend. I think I moved into the best possible living situation I could have. It has been really nice to have someone to go through training with and someone to go through the boring days with as well. We watch a lot of movies / tv on dvd and chat. It's a lot like living with Chelsie and Val, except without all the awesome memories. HOWEVER, we are not living together this fall. Now, don't jump to conclusions and think that's a bad thing. It's not.
TANGENT: I told a girl at institute that Zofia and I aren't living together and she looked like she was going to cry. I had to calm her down and tell her that we didn't get in a fight or anything. Talk about too invested in people she hardly knows.
ANYWAY, Zofia's boyfriend Alex got into grad school in Philly, so they are moving together to an apartment in Bella Vista. That left me looking for an apartment, and since I don't have any furniture or crap like that I started looking for a house with a room for rent. I emailed a million billion people and the second place I went to IS MY NEW HOME. It's on Pine and Broad, which means if I walk the 30 seconds to the corner and look to my right I can see CITY HALL. PRICE: $325/mo + utilities...which is the cheapest apartment I've ever heard of (except the one I paid $310/mo for in Ann Arbor...).
My roommate is this dude man named Quame. Quame works for Philly Car Share and writes books. Quame is very nice, has a great book collection, likes to share wine, and is, in general, the kind of person I instantly feel comfortable around. We've even hung out a couple of times since I signed the lease, so I think we're going to be good roommates and good friends too. I'm really excited about my new home.
OH, it's on the fourth floor. Whatever.
THE JERSEY SHORE
One weekend Zofia's boyfriend Alex came to visit because, as I said, he's moving to Philly and he was interviewing for a job. We all decided we needed to go to the Jersey Shore because, well, because I love the idea of Jersey.
TANGENT: I had previously been to Jersey only once, and that was on accident. I was trying to drive back from downtown to Penn Treaty where I had Institute and I realized I was going south on 95 instead of north. So, obviously, I got off the freeway to turn around. That seems simple, right? WRONG. Nothing about the Walt Whitman Bridge is simple. NOTHING. I got off without knowing that there is no exit before Jersey on that particular road, and there is also no sign telling me that until I'm on the freakin' bridge heading into a different state. So, I'm in Jersey and I have 15 minutes before class begins and I'm heading down this road because just like on the bridge, there's NO FREAKING PLACE IN JERSEY TO TURN AROUND. And then I realize my gas light is on, so I go to a gas station. Do you know what happens in gas stations in Jersey? DO YOU?! They pump your gas. I was really confused and I may or may not have frightened the gas pumper. He shouldn't have asked me how I was doing when I was very anxious about being late. THEN, I had to keep driving until I made it to this godforsaken round about thing that lead me back the other direction. So I'm heading to the bridge and I see that you have to pay a toll, so I take the direction to the Ben Franklin Bridge instead because that sign didn't say I had to pay a toll. That sign lied. So, I'm in line for the bridge but, oh wait!, I don't have any dollars and it costs four to get back to Philly. So I tell the fare man that I don't have money and he tells me that he can't write me a thing to pay later and that I have to go talk to someone in the bridge office even though I told him that I was running late for class. (I'm typing how I was speaking, FYI.) So, I go to the bridge official and talk quickly to him and then quickly to another man and they tell me that I can just go for free. No toll. And, for an instant, Jersey ruled. Anyway, I got to institute 15-25 minutes late and it was no big deal.
Back to The SHORE. So, anyway, we wanted to go to Atlantic City to go to The Shore because we all imagined there'd be a lot of kitschy things there. However, we didn't make it to AC (BABY) because we ended up in Sea Isle City. SIC was nice, though, so I didn't mind. Except, at SIC you have to pay to go to the beach. That's weird. But I did get to go into the ocean, and I did get a lot of salt in my mouth, and I did see a crab, and I did jump in waves, and I did get a sunburn. Most importantly, I saw a lot of things that could only happen in Jersey:
1. There were guys playing frisbee and whenever they caught it they would yell "JERSEY!"
2. There was a woman in a confederate flag bathing suit. I'm guessing she had a tramp stamp that said "Starz and Barz."
3. There was this man wearing the world's smallest bathing suit in the world, which had day glow splotches of color all over it. Plus, he had a very large beer belly. Plus, he had a visor. Plus, he had a bleach blonde ponytail cascading down his back. Plus, he had bluetooth. Zofia and I took pictures as he swaggered past us.
4. I saw multiple people with wife beater tan lines.
It was awesome.
INSTITUTE
Institute is where I "learned" how to be a teacher. It was, overall, boring and I was forced to change groups a whole lot. I also had to make a lot of graphic organizers and justify how we used High Impact Teaching Strategies (HITS) in class. It was really hot in the classes, a lot of people were annoying, and I had to dress up even though it was all Fellows there. Whatever. It wasn't that bad, because there were some great people too. It was about half and half. The main thing I didn't like is that I felt like a lot of the "administration" treated us like we aren't that smart. I don't get that because they hired us, so if we're not smart why do we have jobs? If 1700+ people applied for the job, you'd think the ~160 they hired would be smart. Whatever. Also, a lot of the people in my section thought they were really freaking smart when they were just smart asses. Whatever pt II with a side of What a Bunch of Phonies.
I did like Kim, though. I mean, I liked other people a lot, but I only really became friends with Kim. I'm not very good at making friends in classes for two reasons: (1) that's not why I'm there; (2) I've never really done it. Whenever I make friends it's because people talk to me. Wah Wah. Anyway, Kim was the Fellow I co-taught with, so I got to know her pretty well. Kim's from the Bronx and is Puerto Rican, so she knows a lot of really interesting stuff about being Latino that I don't know since I'm not Latino. I like learning about being Latino and being Puerto Rican from her. She taught me how to salsa dance once and that was really fun. I also like that she seems like the nicest person ever, and she kind of is, except that she says things like "So, sometimes I get into fights..."
Oh Dear Jesus, I'm going to end this post and start a new one. The next one is on SUMMER SCHOOL TEACHING, and I want to talk about it all on its own because of how much I liked it.
HOUSING
Zofia and I are having a great time living together. She's a wonderful roommate and a good and fun friend. I think I moved into the best possible living situation I could have. It has been really nice to have someone to go through training with and someone to go through the boring days with as well. We watch a lot of movies / tv on dvd and chat. It's a lot like living with Chelsie and Val, except without all the awesome memories. HOWEVER, we are not living together this fall. Now, don't jump to conclusions and think that's a bad thing. It's not.
TANGENT: I told a girl at institute that Zofia and I aren't living together and she looked like she was going to cry. I had to calm her down and tell her that we didn't get in a fight or anything. Talk about too invested in people she hardly knows.
ANYWAY, Zofia's boyfriend Alex got into grad school in Philly, so they are moving together to an apartment in Bella Vista. That left me looking for an apartment, and since I don't have any furniture or crap like that I started looking for a house with a room for rent. I emailed a million billion people and the second place I went to IS MY NEW HOME. It's on Pine and Broad, which means if I walk the 30 seconds to the corner and look to my right I can see CITY HALL. PRICE: $325/mo + utilities...which is the cheapest apartment I've ever heard of (except the one I paid $310/mo for in Ann Arbor...).
My roommate is this dude man named Quame. Quame works for Philly Car Share and writes books. Quame is very nice, has a great book collection, likes to share wine, and is, in general, the kind of person I instantly feel comfortable around. We've even hung out a couple of times since I signed the lease, so I think we're going to be good roommates and good friends too. I'm really excited about my new home.
OH, it's on the fourth floor. Whatever.
THE JERSEY SHORE
One weekend Zofia's boyfriend Alex came to visit because, as I said, he's moving to Philly and he was interviewing for a job. We all decided we needed to go to the Jersey Shore because, well, because I love the idea of Jersey.
TANGENT: I had previously been to Jersey only once, and that was on accident. I was trying to drive back from downtown to Penn Treaty where I had Institute and I realized I was going south on 95 instead of north. So, obviously, I got off the freeway to turn around. That seems simple, right? WRONG. Nothing about the Walt Whitman Bridge is simple. NOTHING. I got off without knowing that there is no exit before Jersey on that particular road, and there is also no sign telling me that until I'm on the freakin' bridge heading into a different state. So, I'm in Jersey and I have 15 minutes before class begins and I'm heading down this road because just like on the bridge, there's NO FREAKING PLACE IN JERSEY TO TURN AROUND. And then I realize my gas light is on, so I go to a gas station. Do you know what happens in gas stations in Jersey? DO YOU?! They pump your gas. I was really confused and I may or may not have frightened the gas pumper. He shouldn't have asked me how I was doing when I was very anxious about being late. THEN, I had to keep driving until I made it to this godforsaken round about thing that lead me back the other direction. So I'm heading to the bridge and I see that you have to pay a toll, so I take the direction to the Ben Franklin Bridge instead because that sign didn't say I had to pay a toll. That sign lied. So, I'm in line for the bridge but, oh wait!, I don't have any dollars and it costs four to get back to Philly. So I tell the fare man that I don't have money and he tells me that he can't write me a thing to pay later and that I have to go talk to someone in the bridge office even though I told him that I was running late for class. (I'm typing how I was speaking, FYI.) So, I go to the bridge official and talk quickly to him and then quickly to another man and they tell me that I can just go for free. No toll. And, for an instant, Jersey ruled. Anyway, I got to institute 15-25 minutes late and it was no big deal.
Back to The SHORE. So, anyway, we wanted to go to Atlantic City to go to The Shore because we all imagined there'd be a lot of kitschy things there. However, we didn't make it to AC (BABY) because we ended up in Sea Isle City. SIC was nice, though, so I didn't mind. Except, at SIC you have to pay to go to the beach. That's weird. But I did get to go into the ocean, and I did get a lot of salt in my mouth, and I did see a crab, and I did jump in waves, and I did get a sunburn. Most importantly, I saw a lot of things that could only happen in Jersey:
1. There were guys playing frisbee and whenever they caught it they would yell "JERSEY!"
2. There was a woman in a confederate flag bathing suit. I'm guessing she had a tramp stamp that said "Starz and Barz."
3. There was this man wearing the world's smallest bathing suit in the world, which had day glow splotches of color all over it. Plus, he had a very large beer belly. Plus, he had a visor. Plus, he had a bleach blonde ponytail cascading down his back. Plus, he had bluetooth. Zofia and I took pictures as he swaggered past us.
4. I saw multiple people with wife beater tan lines.
It was awesome.
INSTITUTE
Institute is where I "learned" how to be a teacher. It was, overall, boring and I was forced to change groups a whole lot. I also had to make a lot of graphic organizers and justify how we used High Impact Teaching Strategies (HITS) in class. It was really hot in the classes, a lot of people were annoying, and I had to dress up even though it was all Fellows there. Whatever. It wasn't that bad, because there were some great people too. It was about half and half. The main thing I didn't like is that I felt like a lot of the "administration" treated us like we aren't that smart. I don't get that because they hired us, so if we're not smart why do we have jobs? If 1700+ people applied for the job, you'd think the ~160 they hired would be smart. Whatever. Also, a lot of the people in my section thought they were really freaking smart when they were just smart asses. Whatever pt II with a side of What a Bunch of Phonies.
I did like Kim, though. I mean, I liked other people a lot, but I only really became friends with Kim. I'm not very good at making friends in classes for two reasons: (1) that's not why I'm there; (2) I've never really done it. Whenever I make friends it's because people talk to me. Wah Wah. Anyway, Kim was the Fellow I co-taught with, so I got to know her pretty well. Kim's from the Bronx and is Puerto Rican, so she knows a lot of really interesting stuff about being Latino that I don't know since I'm not Latino. I like learning about being Latino and being Puerto Rican from her. She taught me how to salsa dance once and that was really fun. I also like that she seems like the nicest person ever, and she kind of is, except that she says things like "So, sometimes I get into fights..."
Oh Dear Jesus, I'm going to end this post and start a new one. The next one is on SUMMER SCHOOL TEACHING, and I want to talk about it all on its own because of how much I liked it.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Things I Wanted to Post Earlier:
Today I unpacked. Zofia napped while I went through all my boxes and organized my clothes three times. Then we went to Rock ‘n Roll Exxon, then we made dinner together. It looks like I’m going to be living on permutations of beans and rice this summer. Samantha left all sorts of recipes and cookbooks around so I’m going to take this time to read them. Anyway, I started writing because a few minutes ago I came upstairs to let down my curtains so the sun won’t wake me in the morning and I ended up sitting on my bed looking around at my room. It finally hit me that I’m not traveling. My clothes are in drawers and on hangers, my things are neatly arranged on my dresser, and I have pictures hanging from the edges of my mirror. I’ve already decorated here more than I ever did in Ann Arbor. It’s surreal and I know that when Zofia leaves in the morning I’m going to immediately begin to feel lonely.
It’s the next day. I’m about to do a PoWeR hOuR with champagne we opened yesterday. I think this will be a good experiment to see how my thoughts on moving to Philadelphia are affected by alcohol. Earlier I made a playlist because I was loafing around my room mass texting everyone in my phone book for virtual human contact. But it’s now (9) hours later and I’ve exhausted these songs. For now I’m going to just do random in my whole playlist because I’m sure as this hour goes on I’ll narrow things down to songs I just have to hear. Sometimes it comes in handy to be a predictable drunk. There is surprising news, though, and it is that this champagne is still bubbly and tasty despite being open on the counter all night with only a makeshift cork for protection.
Shot 1: Unfortunately for me my computer didn’t know it was supposed to start with Tom Petty. And unfortunately for Samantha my champagne just bubbled over onto her rug. Luckily she has a ton of cleaning products and fancy brushes, all of which have differently-angled handles. This thing can estimate my BAC. But don’t worry, I don’t have a car so I can’t drive.
Shot 5: DMX is on.
Shot 8: I just remembered that I have to put the trash out tonight. I also have to mail a letter I wrote to Katie today. I’ve spent most of the day in my room because I like having a nicely decorated space. My clothes hanging against the back wall make it look very colorful. I may only wear black shirts, but I own a bunch of colors. Anyway, in the letter I wrote about my desire to decorate here and that I think it’s related to not living with Chelsie and Valerie. They were all I needed to feel at home in Ann Arbor.
Shot 16: Samantha called me to say that there’s a coffee shop at Frankford and Norris. Comcast is the internet provider in the area. It’s been more than a minute since I’ve done a shot because I paused my music, but I’m going to continue like nothing happened. (Samantha’s my landlord.)
Shot 19: I’ve decided to do (20) minute blocks because I’m getting too bubbly. I don’t want to float into the fan at the top of the ceiling.
Intermission: I just talked to Diana for (30) minutes while she was creeping through LA traffic trying to get (3) miles down the freeway. It was wonderful, especially since I hadn’t talked to her in awhile. But now it’s time for POWERHOUR pt. 2.
Shot 24: Cream “Sunshine of Your Love” came on for this minute. This song reminds me of a day about a month ago that I drank in my living room and sat on my roof. It was a really good night.
Shot 26: Jackson 5 just came on followed my Michael Jackson. It’s like going through time in (2) different ways…
Shot 28: The champagne just ran out and my BAC is 0.0481%. I’m switching to Yuengling. I wish I felt safe enough to walk around, but it is nearing dark and I had better just stay in. Tomorrow I will venture outside.
Shot 31: One Thing About My New House: I have a high efficiency washer and dryer in the basement. And since it’s only me and Zofia, I don’t have to worry about getting my laundry out the moment a cycle ends—especially since she’s not here until the 29th.
Shot 32: They see me rollin’ / They hatin’ / Patrollin’ and trying to catch me ridin’ dirty / Tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty / Tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty / My music’s so loud I’m swangin’ / They hopin’ that they gonna catch me ridin’ dirty. I confess that I typed these lyrics normal and took out every final after I was done.
Shot 36: Enough is Enough. I’m calling Comcast. That means I’m also pausing the music. I called (1) minute late. I guess I’ll call again tomorrow. Back to what’s important.
Shot 40: I now confess that I stopped the Power Hour to cry. I miss having a daily routine. I’m so lonely and I wish I weren’t because I just want to be excited about this. This is the first time I’ve gotten drunk and cried.
Shot 42: BAC 0.0778. I’m not even that drunk; I’m still legally allowed to drive. I would never let myself be in a decision making role in this state. State of mind, not PA.
Shot 45: I’m a lonesome whippoorwill.
Shot 50: I think if I even had a bar or a coffee shop that I frequented I’d be better. It’s just like I’m not even in Philadelphia because nobody and nothing knows me except for my house. I should not have done this PowerHour because it made me feel the opposite of what I intended. Nobody is even going to walk into my house until the 29th when Zofia gets home. It’s so different here. I’m finally in mourning.
Shot 58: BAC 0.0108%.
I’ve lost count because I was texting Maman. I’m somewhere around (66) minutes. I’m going to see how far I go before I get sleepy and nauseous. God knows I don’t want to puke in a house alone. That’s more pathetic than my PowerHour.
Shot 67: BAC 0.0124%. Bon Iver is playing; thank you, Greg. I do indeed like this CD very much.
Shot 72: I think mom is going to call me to toast over the phone.
Shot 77: “Riding Dirty” plays again even though I have 3,753 songs.
It now says DRINK 5. That’s not real. Drink whenever!!!! Too wasted!
It’s the next morning. I have no idea what that last line is about. It’s raining outside and I have to clean my sticky table. I drank a liter of champagne and (8) beers yesterday. I slept on the couch so I could listen to the TV. One time Val told me that she can fall asleep to Friends because she’s seen all the episodes so many times she’s comfortable with the characters. It’s like they’re her friends. That’s what I did. I had a dream that this girl I went to middle/high school with got a bizarre Star Wars-y vehicle that we drove around in. We kept cruising to different caves. Today I’m going to the coffee shop with free internet. I’m also going to CVS and the thrift store across the street. Check ya l8r.
It’s the 19th of June. Yesterday I did go to CVS and the thrift store and I learned a new recipe. I made collages. This sounds a lot more productive than the actual hour and a half I did things. I didn’t go to the coffee shop, but I did today. It took me an hour to get too frustrated trying to get the internet to work and decide to go home. There were a lot of horribly trendy people there. That’s probably because it’s called Rocket Cat. I remembered the name wrong and kept looking for somewhere called “Atomic Coffee.” I passed (3) new bars in the (6) blocks it took to get there. I also found a brunch place and some markets. One thing I really like about Philadelphia is that there are small businesses tucked into the residential areas. I keep walking down streets and finding not-houses everywhere. It’s a bit like a scavenger hunt; except I don’t take things, I just see them.
I’m doing another Power Hour. I’m on minute (13) and I hope this one goes better than the last. I think I’m going to drink just a couple beers and visit a bar(s). I think that I’m allowed to get a beer out since I’m so GODDAMN LONELY. Maybe someone will talk to me. Today when I was coffeeing this guy told me that I looked forlorn. But he didn’t say forlorn; he told me that I looked like I was concentrating very hard on something I wasn’t exactly happy about. I haven’t decided whether that’s better or worse than always looking angry. Anyway, he looked pretty sad himself when I left. Too bad he wasn’t one of the bearded patrons because then I may have found some Power Hour company.
Shot 17.
Shot 40: I’m definitely going to the bar. There are still ice cream trucks going about and I can hear kids playing. There is no way a (7) year old gets to stay out later than me. Also, the other day Perry and I saw a truck riding around selling slices of pizza and milkshakes in my ‘hood. It was wild.
Here’s where the Fishtown Library is from my house: Almond (L) Susquehanna (L) Thompson (R) Montgomery (L) 1217 E. Montgomery (215) 685 9990
Shot 45: Don’t tell Zofia, but I haven’t done dishes in (2) days. But that’s mostly because there’s only (2) plates and a pan. I’m not going to let her know how messy I actually am…but I guess she’ll find out when I post this and/if she reads my blog.
Shot 47: It’s hard to decide which knife I want to take with me on the prowl. Also, I don’t think I’ve done a shot each minute. Oh well. Wah-Wah.
Shot 50: It’s good that people think me doing solo Power Hours is funny and not pathetic. But perhaps there is something they aren’t telling me…
I haven’t mentioned that I’m having extreme déjà vu here. Like the mirror decoration on the wall is too familiar, and when Zofia and I were driving it was too familiar.
It’s the next morning. The night before last I had a dream where I was saying goodbye to all my friends. Last night I had a dream that Chelsie, Val and I were sitting on my bed talking about living with Zofia. I think that means that I’m homesick, but then again I don’t know if that’s even the right term since Philadelphia is my home now. I’m AnnArborsick. I also had a dream that I was reading a magazine article interview with one of the girls from the Hills and she was talking about going through menopause. What’s up with that? I don’t even watch the Hills.
I’m about to drink a gallon of water from the giant Britta thing in my refrigerator. Why is it that has no , but does? Where’d that come from? Anyway, this Britta thing rules. And I mean that literally because yesterday I went up to it and said “Britta, when this door closes everywhere the light doesn’t touch is yours.” And it was Good. The next time I opened the door all my condiments were standing in straight lines saluting me. That Britta rules with a charcoal filter fist. Alright, that’s enough of that.
It’s days later (06/24/09) and I just finished watching the documentary Born into Brothels. I cried until I gave myself a headache. The movie is about this photographer who goes to the red light district of Calcutta to shoot the women, and ends up teaching the children living in the brothels photography. The children and the pictures are devastating. I have a lot more to write about the nonevents of my last few days, but I’m too bleary eyed to type more now.
It’s the next day. I’m about to do a PoWeR hOuR with champagne we opened yesterday. I think this will be a good experiment to see how my thoughts on moving to Philadelphia are affected by alcohol. Earlier I made a playlist because I was loafing around my room mass texting everyone in my phone book for virtual human contact. But it’s now (9) hours later and I’ve exhausted these songs. For now I’m going to just do random in my whole playlist because I’m sure as this hour goes on I’ll narrow things down to songs I just have to hear. Sometimes it comes in handy to be a predictable drunk. There is surprising news, though, and it is that this champagne is still bubbly and tasty despite being open on the counter all night with only a makeshift cork for protection.
Shot 1: Unfortunately for me my computer didn’t know it was supposed to start with Tom Petty. And unfortunately for Samantha my champagne just bubbled over onto her rug. Luckily she has a ton of cleaning products and fancy brushes, all of which have differently-angled handles. This thing can estimate my BAC. But don’t worry, I don’t have a car so I can’t drive.
Shot 5: DMX is on.
Shot 8: I just remembered that I have to put the trash out tonight. I also have to mail a letter I wrote to Katie today. I’ve spent most of the day in my room because I like having a nicely decorated space. My clothes hanging against the back wall make it look very colorful. I may only wear black shirts, but I own a bunch of colors. Anyway, in the letter I wrote about my desire to decorate here and that I think it’s related to not living with Chelsie and Valerie. They were all I needed to feel at home in Ann Arbor.
Shot 16: Samantha called me to say that there’s a coffee shop at Frankford and Norris. Comcast is the internet provider in the area. It’s been more than a minute since I’ve done a shot because I paused my music, but I’m going to continue like nothing happened. (Samantha’s my landlord.)
Shot 19: I’ve decided to do (20) minute blocks because I’m getting too bubbly. I don’t want to float into the fan at the top of the ceiling.
Intermission: I just talked to Diana for (30) minutes while she was creeping through LA traffic trying to get (3) miles down the freeway. It was wonderful, especially since I hadn’t talked to her in awhile. But now it’s time for POWERHOUR pt. 2.
Shot 24: Cream “Sunshine of Your Love” came on for this minute. This song reminds me of a day about a month ago that I drank in my living room and sat on my roof. It was a really good night.
Shot 26: Jackson 5 just came on followed my Michael Jackson. It’s like going through time in (2) different ways…
Shot 28: The champagne just ran out and my BAC is 0.0481%. I’m switching to Yuengling. I wish I felt safe enough to walk around, but it is nearing dark and I had better just stay in. Tomorrow I will venture outside.
Shot 31: One Thing About My New House: I have a high efficiency washer and dryer in the basement. And since it’s only me and Zofia, I don’t have to worry about getting my laundry out the moment a cycle ends—especially since she’s not here until the 29th.
Shot 32: They see me rollin’ / They hatin’ / Patrollin’ and trying to catch me ridin’ dirty / Tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty / Tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty / My music’s so loud I’m swangin’ / They hopin’ that they gonna catch me ridin’ dirty. I confess that I typed these lyrics normal and took out every final
Shot 36: Enough is Enough. I’m calling Comcast. That means I’m also pausing the music. I called (1) minute late. I guess I’ll call again tomorrow. Back to what’s important.
Shot 40: I now confess that I stopped the Power Hour to cry. I miss having a daily routine. I’m so lonely and I wish I weren’t because I just want to be excited about this. This is the first time I’ve gotten drunk and cried.
Shot 42: BAC 0.0778. I’m not even that drunk; I’m still legally allowed to drive. I would never let myself be in a decision making role in this state. State of mind, not PA.
Shot 45: I’m a lonesome whippoorwill.
Shot 50: I think if I even had a bar or a coffee shop that I frequented I’d be better. It’s just like I’m not even in Philadelphia because nobody and nothing knows me except for my house. I should not have done this PowerHour because it made me feel the opposite of what I intended. Nobody is even going to walk into my house until the 29th when Zofia gets home. It’s so different here. I’m finally in mourning.
Shot 58: BAC 0.0108%.
I’ve lost count because I was texting Maman. I’m somewhere around (66) minutes. I’m going to see how far I go before I get sleepy and nauseous. God knows I don’t want to puke in a house alone. That’s more pathetic than my PowerHour.
Shot 67: BAC 0.0124%. Bon Iver is playing; thank you, Greg. I do indeed like this CD very much.
Shot 72: I think mom is going to call me to toast over the phone.
Shot 77: “Riding Dirty” plays again even though I have 3,753 songs.
It now says DRINK 5. That’s not real. Drink whenever!!!! Too wasted!
It’s the next morning. I have no idea what that last line is about. It’s raining outside and I have to clean my sticky table. I drank a liter of champagne and (8) beers yesterday. I slept on the couch so I could listen to the TV. One time Val told me that she can fall asleep to Friends because she’s seen all the episodes so many times she’s comfortable with the characters. It’s like they’re her friends. That’s what I did. I had a dream that this girl I went to middle/high school with got a bizarre Star Wars-y vehicle that we drove around in. We kept cruising to different caves. Today I’m going to the coffee shop with free internet. I’m also going to CVS and the thrift store across the street. Check ya l8r.
It’s the 19th of June. Yesterday I did go to CVS and the thrift store and I learned a new recipe. I made collages. This sounds a lot more productive than the actual hour and a half I did things. I didn’t go to the coffee shop, but I did today. It took me an hour to get too frustrated trying to get the internet to work and decide to go home. There were a lot of horribly trendy people there. That’s probably because it’s called Rocket Cat. I remembered the name wrong and kept looking for somewhere called “Atomic Coffee.” I passed (3) new bars in the (6) blocks it took to get there. I also found a brunch place and some markets. One thing I really like about Philadelphia is that there are small businesses tucked into the residential areas. I keep walking down streets and finding not-houses everywhere. It’s a bit like a scavenger hunt; except I don’t take things, I just see them.
I’m doing another Power Hour. I’m on minute (13) and I hope this one goes better than the last. I think I’m going to drink just a couple beers and visit a bar(s). I think that I’m allowed to get a beer out since I’m so GODDAMN LONELY. Maybe someone will talk to me. Today when I was coffeeing this guy told me that I looked forlorn. But he didn’t say forlorn; he told me that I looked like I was concentrating very hard on something I wasn’t exactly happy about. I haven’t decided whether that’s better or worse than always looking angry. Anyway, he looked pretty sad himself when I left. Too bad he wasn’t one of the bearded patrons because then I may have found some Power Hour company.
Shot 17.
Shot 40: I’m definitely going to the bar. There are still ice cream trucks going about and I can hear kids playing. There is no way a (7) year old gets to stay out later than me. Also, the other day Perry and I saw a truck riding around selling slices of pizza and milkshakes in my ‘hood. It was wild.
Here’s where the Fishtown Library is from my house: Almond (L) Susquehanna (L) Thompson (R) Montgomery (L) 1217 E. Montgomery (215) 685 9990
Shot 45: Don’t tell Zofia, but I haven’t done dishes in (2) days. But that’s mostly because there’s only (2) plates and a pan. I’m not going to let her know how messy I actually am…but I guess she’ll find out when I post this and/if she reads my blog.
Shot 47: It’s hard to decide which knife I want to take with me on the prowl. Also, I don’t think I’ve done a shot each minute. Oh well. Wah-Wah.
Shot 50: It’s good that people think me doing solo Power Hours is funny and not pathetic. But perhaps there is something they aren’t telling me…
I haven’t mentioned that I’m having extreme déjà vu here. Like the mirror decoration on the wall is too familiar, and when Zofia and I were driving it was too familiar.
It’s the next morning. The night before last I had a dream where I was saying goodbye to all my friends. Last night I had a dream that Chelsie, Val and I were sitting on my bed talking about living with Zofia. I think that means that I’m homesick, but then again I don’t know if that’s even the right term since Philadelphia is my home now. I’m AnnArborsick. I also had a dream that I was reading a magazine article interview with one of the girls from the Hills and she was talking about going through menopause. What’s up with that? I don’t even watch the Hills.
I’m about to drink a gallon of water from the giant Britta thing in my refrigerator. Why is it that
It’s days later (06/24/09) and I just finished watching the documentary Born into Brothels. I cried until I gave myself a headache. The movie is about this photographer who goes to the red light district of Calcutta to shoot the women, and ends up teaching the children living in the brothels photography. The children and the pictures are devastating. I have a lot more to write about the nonevents of my last few days, but I’m too bleary eyed to type more now.
Monday, June 22, 2009
So, I've written a lot of things down, but this library computer doesn't have the thingy where I put my other thingy in to make it work. That's what she said. Also, my vocabulary is very mature, just as my jokes.
Things I Didn't Write About:
On Friday I did end up going to the bar. I went to Triple Shot Tavern, and it was a towny hole with 7 oz. beers called "ponies" and it was cash only. I got one disappointing bottle of booze and high-tailed it over to the Memphis Taproom where I knew they accepted debit cards. I forgot my glasses and so couldn't read the board wit the list of beers. It turned out okay, though, because the bartender just picked my beer for me and she was really good at it. I think she liked having that job because she told everyone I was her favorite customer of the night. Her name was Jessica.
At the bar I made bar friends with this dude named Matt who was kind of a douchebag. He said some things I didn't agree with and made a big deal about having a good job despite not graduating high school. I didn't even ask if he graduated or not. It really bugs me when guys act like jerks because they don't want me to be smarter than them. Anyway, talking to him was good enough since I hadn't talked to anyone in (3) days.
To Change the Subject: There's a mouse living in my kitchen. I can hear him frisking around in there, but I can't kill him. I accidentally saw him and he's really cute so I named him Freddie. Freddie appeared after I was really lonely, so maybe he knew. I can't kill a little guy for knowing I wanted a friend, even if he is a rodent. I also can't get electronic rodent repellant because of Murray and Zhiu-Zhiu. I would like to build a trap that doesn't kill him, but first I have to figure out how to do that. Here's the conversation Zofia and I had about Freddie (Watch for my really good joke!):
Colleen: There's a mouse named Freddie living in our kitchen. I can't kill him.
Zofia: Well, I'd just leave the back door open and hope he leaves on his own.
Colleen: Okay, but if he invites friends I'm blaming you, and I may also let them use your food to to feed their colony. I imaging that mice living in a colony would name it RODENToake.
Jeez Oh Pete, I'm one funny girl.
Here's another joke I thought of: starting a band called PUNKtuation and purposely misusing colons.
I thought of another one yesterday, but now I don't remember it. Next time I'll write it down.
Today I got a postcard in the mail from Amanda! She's a really great pen pal and her postcard made me giggle a lot while walking down my street. Here's what it said:
"Dear Colleen,
I've always wanted someone to write to. So I can say things like, "It's true what they say, 'Distance makes the heart grow fonder.'" But, I'm goig to talk about my sink. There is a sulfuric smell coming from it. I'm pretty sure this is something inherent to old buildings. So there is nothingI can do but embrace it.
All my love,
Amanda"
Best Postcard Ever.
Also, here's a really funny message Perot sent me:
"Hello!
I have just read your blog, and I am excited that your house is excellent. I am sorry that I haven't responded to your text messages, but it is terribly expensive because of international charges, so I have to limit myself. Berlin is very nice and very modern. The best thing I have seen is the Misbegotten Fetus Gallery in the History of German Medicine Museum. Aside from that, I have just been eating lots of Wurst, which is kind of like a Big Jack Daddy Burger, in that there are, in all likelihood, four kinds of meat in it. The main difference, is that I probably don't want to know what kinds of meat they are.
Yours,
-Perot"
I think I'm going to head to the Memphis Taproom and read my SPED guidebook. Check ya l8r!
Things I Didn't Write About:
On Friday I did end up going to the bar. I went to Triple Shot Tavern, and it was a towny hole with 7 oz. beers called "ponies" and it was cash only. I got one disappointing bottle of booze and high-tailed it over to the Memphis Taproom where I knew they accepted debit cards. I forgot my glasses and so couldn't read the board wit the list of beers. It turned out okay, though, because the bartender just picked my beer for me and she was really good at it. I think she liked having that job because she told everyone I was her favorite customer of the night. Her name was Jessica.
At the bar I made bar friends with this dude named Matt who was kind of a douchebag. He said some things I didn't agree with and made a big deal about having a good job despite not graduating high school. I didn't even ask if he graduated or not. It really bugs me when guys act like jerks because they don't want me to be smarter than them. Anyway, talking to him was good enough since I hadn't talked to anyone in (3) days.
To Change the Subject: There's a mouse living in my kitchen. I can hear him frisking around in there, but I can't kill him. I accidentally saw him and he's really cute so I named him Freddie. Freddie appeared after I was really lonely, so maybe he knew. I can't kill a little guy for knowing I wanted a friend, even if he is a rodent. I also can't get electronic rodent repellant because of Murray and Zhiu-Zhiu. I would like to build a trap that doesn't kill him, but first I have to figure out how to do that. Here's the conversation Zofia and I had about Freddie (Watch for my really good joke!):
Colleen: There's a mouse named Freddie living in our kitchen. I can't kill him.
Zofia: Well, I'd just leave the back door open and hope he leaves on his own.
Colleen: Okay, but if he invites friends I'm blaming you, and I may also let them use your food to to feed their colony. I imaging that mice living in a colony would name it RODENToake.
Jeez Oh Pete, I'm one funny girl.
Here's another joke I thought of: starting a band called PUNKtuation and purposely misusing colons.
I thought of another one yesterday, but now I don't remember it. Next time I'll write it down.
Today I got a postcard in the mail from Amanda! She's a really great pen pal and her postcard made me giggle a lot while walking down my street. Here's what it said:
"Dear Colleen,
I've always wanted someone to write to. So I can say things like, "It's true what they say, 'Distance makes the heart grow fonder.'" But, I'm goig to talk about my sink. There is a sulfuric smell coming from it. I'm pretty sure this is something inherent to old buildings. So there is nothingI can do but embrace it.
All my love,
Amanda"
Best Postcard Ever.
Also, here's a really funny message Perot sent me:
"Hello!
I have just read your blog, and I am excited that your house is excellent. I am sorry that I haven't responded to your text messages, but it is terribly expensive because of international charges, so I have to limit myself. Berlin is very nice and very modern. The best thing I have seen is the Misbegotten Fetus Gallery in the History of German Medicine Museum. Aside from that, I have just been eating lots of Wurst, which is kind of like a Big Jack Daddy Burger, in that there are, in all likelihood, four kinds of meat in it. The main difference, is that I probably don't want to know what kinds of meat they are.
Yours,
-Perot"
I think I'm going to head to the Memphis Taproom and read my SPED guidebook. Check ya l8r!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
First Things First
Sunday I moved into my new row house. My address is:
2624 E. Letterly St.
Philadelphia, PA 19125
Write to me and send me things because I'd like that.
My apartment is extremely adorable: the lady who owns it has great taste and a lot of quirky, interesting knickknacks. I will post pictures as soon as I am able to do so. The guy next door put a lock on his internet, so I have to figure out how to either hack into his or how to buy my own. It's up in the air.
There are a bunch of kids in the area playing games and running around. I may or may not steal of a couple of them. And a lot of people walk around, which makes me feel safer.
The house is within (4) blocks of (3) bars. Perfect. One bar, Ye Old Blarney Stone Tavern, is a total hole. And not in the way that I had wanted. There were a bunch of old people with stump limbs hanging out and getting rowdy. They only serve cans and bottles of beer, including mini bottle which look bizarre. They claim to serve food, but I'm pretty sure that's referring to the instant Beef Ramen Noodle Bowls that were stacked in a corner. I probably won't go there again...except I know I will. There is another bar (3) blocks up Letterly and (1) block to the right on Cumberland called the Memphis Tap Room. That bar is really great. Perry and I went there for dinner and they have delicious food and a wonderful beer selection. There aren't that many draughts, but the ones they have are all craft. I had a local stout and a Swedish porter. The people in there were pretty young and trendy (perhaps too trendy for someone like me that wears only solids and the occasional striped shirt). There were bearded men that I plan to hit on. There is also another bar called the Triple Shot Tavern. I haven't gone there yet, but I'm probably going to go tomorrow when I'm left all alone.
Other Things Around My House: trashy fast food, a grocery store, weird strip mall stores, a hoagie shop, a water ice place, and a ROCK AND ROLL EXXON. I didn't go in there, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be Wicked Awesome. I plan to explore more things in the next week when Zofia's away being a camp counselor.
By now I'm sure you're all wondering about Zofia. She's wonderful. She's very funny and nice and the right amount of talkative. We chatted for hours yesterday with no breaks and it was really fun. I think we're going to become great friends. Plus, she's adorable, which means I don't have to start having ugly friends. That would have been a real bummer. The only downside is that she leaves for a week starting tomorrow morning, so I'm probably going to get bored by myself. Especially since we don't have internet and cable. Right now I'm pining for Stumble Upon and Daisy of Love. My life is slowly re-approaching shambles.
Yesterday Perry and I went downtown to hang out. We walked along South St., went to some Irish Pubs, and ate Philly Cheesesteaks. Awesome. We tried to go to the Liberty Bell, but there was no street parking and the garages have a height limit of 6' 4", which is too baby for an F150 XL. Dang Blast It! After that we decided to go back to the house and drink beer. Oh, PENNSYLVANIA IS WEIRD ABOUT ALCOHOL. You can only buy alcohol in state owned stores, which mostly aren't open on Sunday. And, the beer stores are like warehouses, so you can only buy cases of beer. It's very strange. But you can get takeout alcohol from bars. It's all backwards here.
I've been thinking that since I'm about to have an adult job I should start doing adult things. That means I'm going to start wearing heels, infuse oil with things and bake my own bread. I was thinking about quilting, but that may be a too old activity.
In Other News: I'm totally not looking forward to unpacking.
In Other Other News: I need to stop writing here and start filling out my SDP application for the interview I have in an hour.
2624 E. Letterly St.
Philadelphia, PA 19125
Write to me and send me things because I'd like that.
My apartment is extremely adorable: the lady who owns it has great taste and a lot of quirky, interesting knickknacks. I will post pictures as soon as I am able to do so. The guy next door put a lock on his internet, so I have to figure out how to either hack into his or how to buy my own. It's up in the air.
There are a bunch of kids in the area playing games and running around. I may or may not steal of a couple of them. And a lot of people walk around, which makes me feel safer.
The house is within (4) blocks of (3) bars. Perfect. One bar, Ye Old Blarney Stone Tavern, is a total hole. And not in the way that I had wanted. There were a bunch of old people with stump limbs hanging out and getting rowdy. They only serve cans and bottles of beer, including mini bottle which look bizarre. They claim to serve food, but I'm pretty sure that's referring to the instant Beef Ramen Noodle Bowls that were stacked in a corner. I probably won't go there again...except I know I will. There is another bar (3) blocks up Letterly and (1) block to the right on Cumberland called the Memphis Tap Room. That bar is really great. Perry and I went there for dinner and they have delicious food and a wonderful beer selection. There aren't that many draughts, but the ones they have are all craft. I had a local stout and a Swedish porter. The people in there were pretty young and trendy (perhaps too trendy for someone like me that wears only solids and the occasional striped shirt). There were bearded men that I plan to hit on. There is also another bar called the Triple Shot Tavern. I haven't gone there yet, but I'm probably going to go tomorrow when I'm left all alone.
Other Things Around My House: trashy fast food, a grocery store, weird strip mall stores, a hoagie shop, a water ice place, and a ROCK AND ROLL EXXON. I didn't go in there, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be Wicked Awesome. I plan to explore more things in the next week when Zofia's away being a camp counselor.
By now I'm sure you're all wondering about Zofia. She's wonderful. She's very funny and nice and the right amount of talkative. We chatted for hours yesterday with no breaks and it was really fun. I think we're going to become great friends. Plus, she's adorable, which means I don't have to start having ugly friends. That would have been a real bummer. The only downside is that she leaves for a week starting tomorrow morning, so I'm probably going to get bored by myself. Especially since we don't have internet and cable. Right now I'm pining for Stumble Upon and Daisy of Love. My life is slowly re-approaching shambles.
Yesterday Perry and I went downtown to hang out. We walked along South St., went to some Irish Pubs, and ate Philly Cheesesteaks. Awesome. We tried to go to the Liberty Bell, but there was no street parking and the garages have a height limit of 6' 4", which is too baby for an F150 XL. Dang Blast It! After that we decided to go back to the house and drink beer. Oh, PENNSYLVANIA IS WEIRD ABOUT ALCOHOL. You can only buy alcohol in state owned stores, which mostly aren't open on Sunday. And, the beer stores are like warehouses, so you can only buy cases of beer. It's very strange. But you can get takeout alcohol from bars. It's all backwards here.
I've been thinking that since I'm about to have an adult job I should start doing adult things. That means I'm going to start wearing heels, infuse oil with things and bake my own bread. I was thinking about quilting, but that may be a too old activity.
In Other News: I'm totally not looking forward to unpacking.
In Other Other News: I need to stop writing here and start filling out my SDP application for the interview I have in an hour.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
It's a Wild World
In two weeks I will be living in Philadelphia. In a month I will start training to teach. In September I will be teaching Special Ed - English. These things make me both excited and terrified: I am leaving everything I know. The other day I watched Dangerous Minds and cried. This sounds a lot worse than I actually feel because I do want to teach, it's just that I know how hard it is going to be. But I do know that and at least I have that.
I am much more upset about leaving people than I am the place and I think that's why preparing myself to go is becoming difficult.
That being said, I plan to write things about living and teaching in Philadelphia here. I'm also going to attempt to make myself write frequently so when I am old I can remember and so when I am gone you can still know me well.
------
But if you wanna leave, take good care
Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there
But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware
I am much more upset about leaving people than I am the place and I think that's why preparing myself to go is becoming difficult.
That being said, I plan to write things about living and teaching in Philadelphia here. I'm also going to attempt to make myself write frequently so when I am old I can remember and so when I am gone you can still know me well.
------
But if you wanna leave, take good care
Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there
But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware
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