"In hopes of protecting our emotions, we build brick walls in every
direction to all who have the potential to harm us. For a while this
is an act of power, until the day that we look at our life and realize
we've built a mighty prison cell around us which limits our movement.
The only way out is to jump head first into our raw emotions - the
ones we're scared to feel."

uh-oh, my life is starting to feel scripted again.....

appa died. he was a good little hedgehog. tonite is his funeral. i'm very relieved.

my school is great; i love the kids and get along well with the teacher. my tutoring clients are awesome too. this whole not having a classroom thing might actually work out for the time being.

i think i'm getting a roommate. two roommates actually, because she has a little girl. I GUESS PACKING ALL THOSE CHILDREN'S BOOKS AND VIDEOS HAD A PURPOSE AFTER ALL. haha...but seriously. i think it would be awesome if they move in because i'm not even using that room. that whole "i'm going to meditate there every morning and every evening" thing? so not happening the way i would like. need to be more disciplined.

on discipline though, been working out 4 days a week. not seeing results but starting to feel strong again. i like that. i wish there were an affordable pilates class in my area. i wish i had a million dollars.

saw cave in and coalesce last week. that show was pure therapy and it was awesome to see kel. and weird to think how, if i didn't listen to coalesce, i wouldn't have met chris. and if i didn't meet chris, i wouldn't have moved to LA and he wouldn't have met kel. how different would our lives be? i wish i could see cave in every week. it's better than church. converge is playing soon too and i hope i have enough money to go.

oh, so jewels and i are going to see U2 and i'm kind of afraid to be as excited as i want to be. this show might have come 10 years too late.

i think i'm going to be a ballerina for halloween and spend it with adam and katie at que sera.

i think i've also made up my mind to write a young adult manuscript while riding the bus. what else am i doing with that time?

this entry feels stunted.

my life feels stunted.

i don't know how to write here anymore. i delude myself that if i started a blog (underchallengedoverqualifiedteacher.com orsomethingelselikethat.com) i would write in it more than i do here. clean slate and all. but in reality i know i would only neglect that too.

i think i met a boy. i know i always say that but this time i might keep him around. it's too soon to tell. the two guys i was dating before, for various reasons didn't work out. but then it's like dan is always saying, every relationship fails. until one doesn't.

i'm used to failing but it would nice to get some cuddling insurance on the side.

i kind of feel like my life has been frozen and i'm poised for the thaw.

everything is uneventful until it isn't. i can feel the tides of tomorrow creeping closer, getting ready to wash me out to an uncertain turquoise sea. will i stay afloat? only time will tell.

whether living your life by soundtrack or simply making a mix CD, you can't ONLY listen to heavy music or ONLY listen to music you can dance to or ONLY listen to sad-sack dirges. You need to layer it, add some hip hop, add some hardcore, slow it down with pedro the lion's quiet intensity. you need to build it up with some repetitive but interesting sound, escalate it with some swans, then bring it to a resounding crescendo with something fast and loud. you can't have simple without textured, soft without loud. everything hangs in the balance.

music is a religion, and there are far too many people out there in need of a spiritual awakening.

friday nite I had a very lengthy, rambling, epic dream. it was the kind of dream you could only believe made sense while you were dreaming it, as you realized upon waking that it was actually a nonsensical string of disconnected, smaller dreams your sleepy mind had integrated.

I keep coming back to this one part though, where there was some boy who was obviously billed as my love interest. in real life, I have never met this boy, and could not even identify his face, let alone make out subtle features. but in the dream, I knew exactly who he was. and I stepped close to him, and stood on my tiptoes, and, completely without touching, took in the scent of his collarbone and neck. it was the same motion as leaning in for a kiss but no contact was made. he smelled like hoodies and fabric softener and the pleasant kind of clean sweat.

and this contact-with-no-contact was somehow more rewarding IS STILL somehow more rewarding than any of the physical intimacy i've experienced in the past 3 years. how's that for the power of suggestion?

and tell all the boys who wanted me to lose weight when i was a size 14 or even a size 16...

that they had no idea what they were doing.

because now i have restricted and binged and starved and rebelled to a point where my metabolism is ruined and even though i am finally, FINALLY in a healthy headspace and eating food that is mostly fruits and vegetables, i have punished my body to a point where the damage seems irreparable.

you know what? i look back on old pictures of myself. i replay scenes where i clearly remember the shape of my body. and i was BEAUTIFUL. and there was nothing wrong except me not knowing how to be emotionally healthy.

and all those stupid boys, all those boys i listened to, all their insecurities i let them project onto me...well i've met who they are 10 years from then. and who they are now is either a completely screwed up, emotionally stunted mess, or a guy who is secure with the fact that he is attracted to full-figured women.

all that time when i was insecure about dating older guys, i SHOULD have been dating them. because they had done the work to accept who it is they really are.

and now that i'm at a place where i am old enough that i CAN date those guys...i'm insecure with my body. because this doesn't seem like the body i am supposed to have. i KNOW i'm not supposed to be a size 2. i know this. but i also know my body was designed to be smaller than this. and the weight i am carrying now is like an old war injury, lodged in my stomach to remind me of the hardship i endured. or, to be slightly more positive, a child i have been carrying to term. my sadness baby. full of regret and futility that has accumulated over time.

things are changing for me in some very big ways and i feel like i can only carry this weight for so long. it's only logical that it will have to go now that the rest of me is catching up.

i hate what he did when i was 14. i never asked for that, didn't want it, didn't even know how. i even said no, like you're supposed to do in the movies. if i were on law & order svu, it would be easy for the jury to convict him, so the majority of the hour would be spent catching him. i have no idea who he is or how to catch him but i hate him for the impact he left on my life. i want to go back in time, hold my 14 year old self and tell her that looks had NOTHING to do with it. that he was a monster or confused and pathetic and i couldn't protect against it by adding layers. real monsters are expert at cutting those layers off, at cutting you down. all i did was make myself unrecognizable to even myself and prolong the process of finding out who it is i really am.

i'm starting to understand what my mind is really like. i hope i can work hard enough and love myself enough to discover what my body is really like - without the imprint of the pain.

i'm having a hard time with life. i'm not depressed or anything - it's purely circumstantial. basically, I have applied to every single job I am ostensibly qualified for. this includes jobs in the field of education, childcare, writing, retail, hospitality, and other areas we will not discuss. if something works out in those areas, let's just say I will start a separate blog to post about the absurdity of my life.

I have no shame anymore. i'm not even angry anymore. so okay, I have two master's degrees and lots of experience in 2 fields. in every other field, I am vastly over-educated and my references/most recent experience dates back 6 or 7 years ago.

this is an employer's dream market, they can pick and choose and set arbitrary limits and requirements, and I am not their dream candidate. for those who would consider me a dream candidate, there is a hiring freeze that prevents them from even opening positions.

so I wait. yes, I have a job starting next week but once you factor in accumulating bills and debt, rent, groceries, and people I need to pay back, it becomes blatantly obvious this job will not be enough money fast enough. and yet I can't seem to get a morning or weekend job. I can't even seem to get an interview. when I go in person, I leave feeling sorry that I blew $5 on roundtrip bus fare. at least 15 people have expressed regret that, for whatever reason, they can't hire me. i'm trying to be positive. I really am. it just feels like this time the hole is so deep....

I hate that people assume the poor and homeless are uneducated or lazy or jobless. I hate that I get asked for money by people at bus stops every day who assume because of my clothes, hair, and skin, that I have money to give. i'm going underwater with 3 dollars but I can't even get together the dimes...

I need to find a way to write here. my life somehow feels like it no longer fits in this space.

actually, my life seems like it fits nowhere right now, even though I am clinging to southern california with all my might, exhausting my resources and the patience of loved ones and friends. I will find a way to stay here. this is as close to my dream as anything has ever been before and, like any dream I have in my non-waking life, it is just missing one elusive thing. am I meant to have it? am I meant to take a detour, do something else? I can't see leaving this place when I just got here so maybe i've gotten the location but misread my purpose?

in many ways I am so relieved. relieved to be done with school. DONE! with school! forever! my past entries here are filled with the stress it used to cause me, the limitations I allowed it to place on my life, the way I let it dictate my destiny instead of realizing to do what I love to do I need to DO it-not merely train for it.

in many ways I am the happiest i've ever been here, though my friends are scattered in all 4 directions and my bills are paid by acts of opportunity, begging, borrowing, and creativity. and yet I love it here. I am by the ocean. I am by the blue line, which grants me as much independence as I could possibly have without a car. I am ALWAYS warm enough. always. it hasn't rained yet, but when it does, I suspect it will be a welcome change rather than an impending depression. even the men here are better for me. i'm in my element.

and yet....recession aside, budget cuts aside, and nonwithstanding my state once again being led by the star of Kindergarten Cop, I can't help but feeling like this is all some kind of grand cosmic joke and, until I get in on it and read the signs, the universe is having its fun teaching me a lesson I am trying to be humble enough to accept. okay, so maybe I DON'T get a classroom this Fall.

now what?

so friday is the last week of my internship - the teaching part was over last week. so much for the faithful documenting of my student teaching experience. overall i feel so fortunate to have been placed at this school, with these kids, with my cooperating teacher. everything with this just fell into place in a way things almost never do for me.

that said, i have decided to move back to southern california. i think something was always tugging my heart in that direction and it's never a good idea when you are crying at sublime songs, cursing the locals for frowning on sparkly flip flops, and walking down the street finding no men attractive to you whatsoever. seattle, i'm done with your scene. thank you for everything you have done for me. thank you for the wonderful friends and newfound family i've made here. thank you for my education and for this opportunity. thank you for, in many ways, saving my life. i promise i will visit...i'm sorry i couldn't stay.

and for now? there are a few loose ends (well a lot of them) and some new developments on the homefront. we still have the summer. we still have the sound. we still have streets and pathways to explore.

so some days i have teaching and facilitating learning down but the classroom management element is really hard for me. then, other days, i feel like i'm doing a really good job with classroom management but the learning doesn't seem as deep or authentic. i've had maybe two days total in which i felt like i had perfected classroom management *AND* teaching and those days are from a few weeks ago. today i felt like i was the least in control i've ever been and the weird/unfair thing was that the student wasn't trying to make me look bad or take advantage of me - he was testing my cooperating teacher. as in, like, "wow i'm really mad Ms. W failed my senior project, even though i just threw it together last nite and put no thought into it whatsoever. to get back at her, i think i will be a complete dick to Ms. H and see what Ms. W does." i swear this had nothing to do with me and was completely out of left field but it just...totally screwed up my flow. and i was teaching about genocide! GENOCIDE! my like raison d'etre for teaching at all. my lesson got totally derailed.

meanwhile, i've had to start sending freshmen to the office again for skipping, which i HATE doing but i do not have the upper hand enough to try my more "relational listening" approach long enough to see it all the way through because i need a good recommendation from my principal and i think he thinks i'm letting them walk all over me. in my opinion, if a student came to school once every 8 days before i started teaching and now comes once every 3 days, that is a big improvement. but then when she is here it's like she's purposely trying to get herself caught wandering the courtyard or using some kid's skateboard or some other stupid conspicuous shit when she's supposed to be using the bathroom. can i not let kids go to the bathroom now?

i seriously felt like crying today and then i got this on my myspace, from one of my old diamond bar YMCA kids: "Yeah. I just turned 16. I am on my way on life. And some of
my morals are from you. I miss you a bunch and I will never forget you"

if this is the universe's way of telling me to hang in there, i'll take what i can get. thank god i had that site director experience where i learned the hard way that kids, unlike cops and college professors, don't take you more seriously and feel bad if you make yourself cry...cause i know i'd be considering it now if it had at all worked.

i miss southern california.

i might post pictures later.

i simultaneously adore and cannot stand my freshmen. their flexibility and eagerness to learn is juxtaposed with their avoidance of work and unwillingness to stay on task in a kind of love/hate relationship. sometimes i have to be so concrete, so explicit, so one-step-at-a-time and walking them through the process that i feel like i have 1st graders, not 9th graders. it's hard for me to empathize with them, to put myself in their shoes the way i can with the seniors. when i was in 9th grade, i wrote well, but not as well as i could. i should have had someone telling me to rewrite my drafts and expand my ideas but the fact that i wrote better than most of my classmates usually excused me from any probing in my english classes. i have 1 student who is also this way and i push her buttons whenever i ask her to rewrite something. "but i've met standard!" she'll say, "no one else is even finished!" she will coast through high school. sail into college. and then, my biggest fear, is that she will suddenly be told she has work to do.

i like all my 9th graders in different ways. the ones who skip class on a routine basis are the ones who worry me the most. the ones who come from the worst homelives are usually the first ones to turn things in, the ones who seem to work the hardest. school is a place that they actually like. the ones with relatively stable homes, with parents who may or may not know they are supposed to attend school everyday or may be too busy working before they need to be up for school to remind them to go...those are the ones i am struggling with. the kids who don't use in class work time all week, who tell me they know what they are doing, then on deadline day are frantically typing and demanding my help are the most frustrating of all. i know that seattle u advised me against submitting nannying jobs as references but, honestly, i think i can justify it. if i hadn't learned how to multitask with crying infants, accident-prone preschoolers and clingy tots, i don't know how i would know how to deal with the incessant demands. i love that they need one-on-one attention. i love when they value my help. but i can't give it to 15 of them at once, and there-in lies the trouble. "hmmm...should i help S who has never asked for help before but is capable of figuring things out, or R who cannot be self-aware enough to know when he is distracted and thus constantly off-task without me, or K who cuts class all the time and needs a reason to be here?" people like S usually lose out. the most i can do to make it up for them is correspond in detail in their journals. hell, they are the only ones who turn in their journals anyway.

my seniors are not really mine yet. i don't start the unit i've planned for them until april 13, but already i think i am the closest with them. they are capable of abstract thought. they are capable of discerning between the flashy rap being peddled to them and the true hip hop that offers depth. we get each other. but they're working on their senior projects and i worry that once they are finished that will be the end of their motivation. everyone who is going to college is in or will be by april 15. some of them have already passed into the realm of the senior slump, where they know senior projects are a graduation requirement but they're so sick of 12 years of uninterrupted schooling that they can't bring themselves to do it. i feel you, i really do. welcome to my second master's degree in as many years.

but overall i am really hopeful and excited that my units will go over well. i've already asked K and N if they will help me with my Islam lesson and they seemed excited at the prospect of teaching other students. the freshmen will start their unit the day after spring break and a lot of them have expressed interest in reading Speak. we'll see how it goes. i have mixed feelings about flying home from worcester the day before my real teaching begins.

three of my biggest Seattle complaints, put much more eloquently (by I, Anonymous) than my usual curse-filled ramblings:

Seattle, I love you. You've been my adult womb for 3 very transformative years of my life, and I don't think there's anywhere else in the country I'd want to live besides here. Thanks!

That said, we have to talk.

First off, Seattle: work on your men. This town is filled to the brim with willing, wanting women who just need one guy—ONE FUCKING GUY—capable of either fucking them without crying/clinging or dating them without becoming an emotionally distant toolbox. For a while it was nice, because I got to clean up after their messes (my penis's thank-you note will arrive shortly) - but after three years, it'd be nice if one of my female friends could have the option for a healthy sex life or relationship. I also can't say I'd mind going to a bar where the personalities outnumber the ironic hats, Seattle, but I know your men don't know the difference. One emotionally retarded step at a time, eh?

Secondly, Seattle, if any of your driving assholes stop for me one more fucking time while I'm clearly jaywalking, I will pull them out of the car and beat the shit out of them. I know it's strange to think that a fast moving loud object with headlights might get noticed in the speedy pace of pedestrian world, but I am timing my cross so that your people don't have to stop because I'm the breaking the law. You do not have to cause a 5-car pile-up behind you after slamming on the breaks when I've taken a single step off the sidewalk.

And to conclude... not a single 24-hour coffee shop? In this town? It's like living in a San Francisco without gay bars.

constructive criticism, seattle...i'm still here. but we need to have a talk

you know what? i've never been one of those singles who hates valentine's day. i've never been the kind of girlfriend to be way into it either. free or attached, valentine's day is one of those made up holidays i generally feel ambivalent towards. so imagine my surprise when i was out to pick up a few things @ QFC and found the hill bustling with activity. tonite is one of those nights where seattle feels like a real city, where my neighborhood feels like a city center. apparently valentine's day is a big deal here. the scared rabbits are walking with purpose.

my own life has plenty of purpose, but not a lot of meaning. if i make one more powerpoint, write out one more learning target, or cut out one more concept for a rank-ordering activity, i'm going to scream. i cannot STAND all of the pointless busywork i've been doing lately. i mean, i totally would not mind if i were making lessons for my own students but this whole making lessons i'm not going to use just to get a grade thing is starting to wear on me. i just need to get through this quarter and i will be student teaching full time. the good thing is i don't even remember what it was like to have a life, so i no longer miss it.

off i go to shave my legs, slip on heels, and drink pink champagne.

so my grandmother and role model (pictured here) is going to zimbabwe to work as a nurse with children who were orphaned by AIDS. she's going at the beginning of march but she needs help financing her trip.

i know times are tough but if anyone is able to contribute even $5, please visit her site and click on "links" to donate via paypal. it would really mean a lot if some of you could help out and it takes all of 3 minutes to do.

she's really amazing and easily the most selfless, caring person i know

-serious bridget

so i broke up with my boyfriend.

and then i made him pancakes.

i have no regrets - i really stuck it out as long as i could. apparently you can't force yourself to love someone, even if he is good to you.

so i really might want to work in the highline school district...the problem is, (1) getting a car is NOT an option and (2) where would i live?

Thursday Jan 15th
4:33PM - Bellevue and E Pine St - Vandalism - Three men tagging a building, hispanic males, teens, dark hoodies. Update: the men are contracted to paint over the graffiti

Ongoing devastation continues in Gaza as the Israeli occupation gets increasingly more violent:

I love how he's wearing a Nike hat. That pretty much symbolizes why a big part of the Muslim world is upset with America and then we go and do nothing while Israel bombs Palestine.
_______________________________________________________
Twenty-two Chinese dairy companies involved in the recent profusion of melamine-tainted milk sent a text-message apology to millions of cellular phones. “We are deeply sorry,” read the message, “for the harm caused to the children and the society.”
-BBC

Why Didn't They Just Twitter One Big Apology?
________________________________________________________
And finally...

No video of cop shooting a black man in the back = "He pulled a gun on me."
Video footage of cop shooting an unarmed black man? "I did it by accident."

today rylee and i went to the seattle children's museum. rather than wait for the 8 which would take us to the 43, i made an executive decision to take the 2 and transfer to the 48. i knew this would mean waiting outside 23rd & union with a 5-year-old but i want so badly to believe that there is nothing that horrible that can happen there in broad daylight. i wanted to believe that the central district is not as dangerous as ignorant people make it out to be. i wanted to continue exposing rylee to people she does not meet in montlake. we often have some good talks with people on the bus and we've been known to have fun at flo ware playground. at the same time, i know that 23 & union is a drug spot and i know that drugs are controlled by gangs. i also know that gang-related shootings are happening with increasing regularity in the area surrounding nearby garfield. it's a moral dilemma for me because i don't want to be afraid of this corner and i don't want rylee to be either. but today i made the wrong choice.

while we were waiting for the always impeccably on time 48 (sarcasm) we were joined by a young woman who was schizophrenic or delusional or otherwise disturbed. she was talking to herself. a lot. the 3 of us were the only ones at the stop. there was no way for rylee not to notice this woman. this is not a woman she would be exposed to in her normal rylee life. there is no way i can pretend that this is normal. there is no way i can distract her by taking out goldfish or reading a story or continuing to play tic-tac-toe. this woman has rylee's full attention, and rylee is looking at her with fear. i don't know what to do. i don't want rylee to look at her with pity. i don't want rylee to ignore her. i want rylee to be able to validate this woman's humanity while also not staring. i have no idea how to non-verbally communicate this to a 5-year-old. it's just us with this woman and her demons for the longest 8 minutes in the world.

we get on the bus and rylee is uncharacteristically quiet the whole way. we get off a block from her house and she does not jump off the last step with both feet like she normally would. she does not say "thank you" to the bus driver. i can tell that she is thinking, trying to make a decision about what she has seen. i don't want her to be afraid and i don't want her to be misinformed. i decide to use this as a teaching moment. and so i begin to explain to rylee how, just like people's bodies can get sick sometimes, people's minds can also get sick. i tell her, in the simplest way possible, that this woman is confused and believes she is talking to people we cannot see. rylee is only 5 but she is already too old for imaginary friends. she grasps the concept quickly. her face fills with worry. i immediately tell her that this will never happen to her, that this woman was born like this. i have no way of verifying these things. i tell rylee not to worry about the woman, that she probably has a job where it does not matter that she is talking to herself. i tell rylee that the woman might play music or paint. i can't stop lying.

i can't think of a simple phrase that will make this all better, that will enable rylee to know the truth but not worry - that will enable her to go on being a carefree 5-year-old. if i were talking to her about people with different looks or different families or even different learning abilities, i would have no problem knowing what to say. but this...i am completely unprepared. mental illness makes me uncomfortable because it hits so close to home - because it exists in my family - because i have not completely sorted out what it means to me. there must be a manual somewhere that teaches you how to explain crazy people to kindergartners, but i have not read it today. as it stands, rylee seems to accept my explanation without question. the look of concern has left her face. at this point, i realize i need to drop it and let her mom and dad fill in the gaps.

rylee suggests we do an art project. it is only when she is busy gluing the shapes she has colored and cut out that i realize the preschoolers who live in the garfield neighborhood have already learned about people like this woman. they have already made up their minds about why people talk to themselves-inaccurate or not. it's too bad i didn't flag one of them down to explain this to rylee; whatever they would have said to her couldn't have been as strange as the phrasing that left my own mouth.

the real reason i have doubt, the real reason i think i made the wrong choice is not that we encountered this woman. the real reason i will never take rylee to this bus stop again is that later today there was another shooting at 23 & union. i have no business taking a 5-year-old to a place where shots have routinely been fired and i realize now that i could not do this with my own child either. and it's unsettling because, while i will never take young children here again, i would love to send my kids to garfield when they are older. i have a lot of thinking to do, but i guess i also have a lot of time.