Friday, September 28, 2007

moving on

I wrote this a while ago. I won't say when. Don't want to give away who I'm talking about. Respect. It was cathartic at the time. Yeah, it's dark and depressing, but it's also incredibly introspective. What say you?


Why is it that no matter what you say or do, certain things creep back into your mind? After months or years of trying to get over feelings of love or hurt or sadness, a little event brings them all flooding back.

You hear from a long-ago ex. She’s getting married next month. That’s sweet. Short relationship between the two of you, no contact for years. Some sense of longing for what she has, if only because you only remember the fond memories or insignificant feelings of hope for that with her lingering from way back when.

You see your first love for the first time in a year. Rarely speaking in the interim, you both want to catch up. Last time, you’re dating someone, she’s not. This time, the tables are turned. At least that’s what you anticipate. She plays it off, they’re just “seeing” each other, she’s really “not that into him.” Here it is, a year later, and you know they’re still together. The same shell game. The evasive responses. Though the distance between you is great, you still occasionally hope for fate to intervene and bring you back together.

You manage to maintain a friendship with another. Finally convinced of your true intentions for the friendship, she begins dating again. The time you speak and spend with her dwindles. Though it could never work, you wonder if there will ever be another chance to be with her. If this new guy she’s seeing on the sly is going to be the One. The One you hoped to be, strongly months ago; only occasionally now and with much less urgency. You wonder why the word friend somehow rings hollow coming from her, now that she’s openly moving on, though she hasn’t broached the subject with you just yet. I guess I’m a hypocrite in a way because I pretended to move on, and killed a friendship along the way. Keeping secrets from friends is tricky when that friend is also an ex. An ex that already got pissed about a date you went on a week after you broke up because you truly weren’t over it.

It’s strange, even the ones you won’t ever speak to again for fear of inducing psychosis creep back randomly. How lately you wonder how she’s doing. If the guy she’s supposedly seeing has tamed her insanity, or if he just manages to overlook it. Hell, her insanity may abate just because he wants to be the One for her.

Literally ran into one a month ago. Married, pregnant, happy. Unlike when I left her apartment, red-faced and crying. Her, not me. Me, weight off my chest, cell phone out, wanting to get a beer with a friend. Glad it was over. Nothing like finally ending a 3 week fling that was mostly spent concocting a way out. Maybe that’s what these exes felt like with me. When they move on, and I stop calling, I stop hoping. I guess I’ll never know. They certainly won’t bring it up, and doubt they’d have much to say if I did. One thing’s for certain, friendships might end.

good news, bad news

a tale of two days in the mailbox. yesterday, got copies of my uf diplomas and my commonwealth of virginia teaching license. good news.

today, pay day! good news, right? not so fast, skippy...i wasn't expecting 46% of it to be gone due to deductions. looks like i'm revising my budget.


Tuesday, September 25, 2007


i've been kicking around why i'm so dissatisfied with education lately. there are the myriad reasons that i've been venting about for the last 4+ years. you know them well, especially if you live them as a teacher. those are the reasons that i may try to change if i have my way in my future.

here's some more personal reasons that became glaring on my move up to the big city.

1) the lack of men. in college, the joke was, "you're just an education major to meet women." that couldn't have been further from the truth because the majority of the teachers-to-be had no designs on ever dating, much less marrying another teacher. now, i get the standard, "aww! that's so cute," which is not necessarily the best way to make a female a) respect you, or b) date you. i didn't have nearly as big a problem with it in gainesville. i had my own friends outside of work, and the women i worked with were anti-women to some extent. they could talk about football. i never felt overwhelmed by the number of women surrounding me at any time. maybe it's because i got along so well with the men that i used to work with. i find i have little in common with many men who are in teaching or around schools, and it really gets tiring having the same tired conversations with the ones i encounter outside of my school.

2) i don't know if this is a teaching thing per se, but i don't like feeling like i'm married to my job. this might just be a growing up, living in a city thing. there is a much greater expectation up here to be constantly connected to the school and parents up here. i'm already putting in 10 hour days more often than not. (my colleagues rarely talk about lives outside of school. i barely have time for one!) for those kind of hours and that kind of commitment, maybe i should have a few more chips to stack. then again, that's not exactly why i got into teaching...

people watching

life in this city hasn't failed me in interesting stories. some sad, some hilarious...well, at least to me because i witnessed them.

story one. last week, michele invites me to fuddruckers in chinatown. this is thursday night, i'm on my way home stupid late because i had a workshop in suburban hell, my truck rolling on fumes. i get home at 8:30, turn promptly around and head to the metro. i know that i'm in for an hour ride in, hour out. best case, one drink at rocket bar in chinatown, turn around, come home. at least i'm not staring at my walls. i call her on my way to make sure she's still there. no answer. i get on the train anyway. (can you tell where this one's headed?) an hour later, on H Street in front of the verizon center, i call again.

"hey michele. where are you?"
"home," she nervously replies, "where are you?"
"you suck! you'd better pick me up from ballston in an hour when i get back to arlington," i jest.

she did. she felt really bad about me going and our crossed lines of communication. drunken kickball players you could smell from 30 feet away bragging about all kinds crazy things they wish they'd done. debating the merits of certain acts. at least i got a good laugh out of it.

story two. saturday night. capitol hill with mary pam, wyn, and meredith. sitting at a table at hawk and dove, drinking a pint when some douchebag barback decides he's going to take our table from us. let me repeat that.

he took our table from us. yes, while we were sitting there. drinking. paying.

i'm laughing so hard tears are welling up in my eyes at how clueless this guy is. meredith and mary pam take it upon themselves to go retrieve said table. said douchebag barback and someone actually dumber than him start yelling at mp & meredith. i go from amused to pissed, punch them both in the throat, smash my pint glass on their gasping faces, and leave with the crew. okay, so that's not entirely true, but most of it is...