today, i didn't get mugged

sometimes i come back from trips home weary and unnerved. it never fails that these trips back home mean hearing some criticism of where i live and why i live there. there have been times when i just wanted to move back so that i would no longer have to be criticized about where i live.

then days like today happen, and i know that comments i hear are merely chalked up to ignorance. not that i didn't know this before, but i wish everyone who is quick to think of chicago as a surefire place to get mugged would meet people like george.

i went to the park today to do some reading for school. i wanted to enjoy the beautiful fall day and get a healthy dose of vitamin D, so i parked myself on a park bench in scoville park and dove into discussions about high school curriculum.

i hadn't been there long enough to get through the introduction when a man stopped and commented on the nice day. from there, we learned all about each other.

an older man in his eighties, george (whose name i didn't learn until we parted) is from istanbul, turkey. when i asked why he came to america, he explained with a interesting analogy: "coming to america to a foreigner is like the desire to go to heaven after you die. it's the ultimate goal." (more or less)

we continued to talk about everything from the romance languages to obesity, our talk only interrupted by a hassidic jew holding a mango and some greenery, asking if either of us were jewish.

he told me that i looked extremely american. he also said that, while i looked like a teenager, i was mature well beyond my years, which i appreciated (i'm sure some of my friends may disagree with this!).

george told me of his life, from living in hell's kitchen in nyc to growing up to two french parents in turkey. he explained that he'd rather be a fool than mature (making his former compliment...?)

i told him of my future plans of teaching. he offered eight crossed fingers that i would get a job and the thought that "[i] am the mistress of my fate. [i] must mold it with both hands."

george and i exchanged e-mail addresses (he just completed a class about using the Internet at the library) and plan on having breakfast together soon. while 60 years separate us, i think we both have a lot we can learn from each other. and more than anything, maybe we both just need someone to talk to.

yes. i. can. (right?)

remember in my last post when i said that i am pretty amazing at avoiding anything that involves risk and failure? yeah. about that...

so...teaching scares me. freaks me out. that's why i refused to pursue the field for so many years. it is also why i finally decided to pursue it; i realized that the very thing i feared was the very thing i wanted to do more than anything. the latter won out over the fear.

while i'm excited to teach and think about it night and day, i'm still, admittingly, scared of what will happen when i enter my first classroom. i have nightmares a couple times a week about my first day of teaching. i dream that kids beat me up. i dream that kids run away. i dream that i can't find the classroom in which i need to be teaching in and the bell has already rung. i have yet to have a dream where i'm a spitting image of erin gruwell.

i know these dreams and fears are unrealistic, at least in the grandiose way that they are portrayed during my REM cycles. but the nervousness still ebbs and flows in the pit of my stomach.

tonight i gave two presentations in my curriculum design class. i felt good. i felt confident. and it went well. in fact, the professor came up afterwards and sincerely complimented me on what i had delivered. "you're already a great teacher," she said, enthusiastically yet casually. little did she know that i needed to hear those five words more than anything else in the whole world.

i can do it. i will do it. and i'll be good, damnit.

risky business

RISK (noun): exposure to the chance of injury or loss; a hazard or dangerous chance

in the midst of homework, nannying, and generally living, i have been thinking a whole heck of a lot about risk lately. i think it was spurred by something i read about taking risks in the classroom. as a teacher, i will best reach my students if i model responsible risk-taking and create an environment that lets students feel as though they, too, can take risks.

a great idea. but just READ that definition. why would i want to do that? chance injury? loss? hazards, for pete's sakes!

i then started thinking about how just anti-risk taking i am. i've always been this way, and, to be honest, it's no big revelation to realize that i absolutely hate risking anything. in the midst of these thoughts about my riskphobia, my friend sent me this quote: "I always imagine the worst possible thing that can happen, she told me. It gives me a great excuse to stay home & have tea."-Brian Andreas (Storypeople Creator)

while knowing i, to a fault, live in a safe, little bubble, i've really started thinking about all that i have missed out on because i don't want to mess up, fail, or generally feel uncomfortable. i could go on and on about how debilitating a fear-of-failure/loss/injury is. but i won't. i guess the important thing is that i start, one safe baby-step at a time, trying to take chances. i have to believe that, even if i lose, i'll in some way win.

neckin' on the sofa

i've been thinking a lot today about how awkward it is to share a first kiss on a couch. don't get too excited; i haven't shared a first kiss on a couch in awhile. but it's so AWKWARD. because if you're sitting on a couch halfway normally, you're both sitting with your faces looking forward. if you sit close enough to be able to touch lips by a mere twist of the head, you still have this uncomfortable periphery judgement time where you look out the sides of your eyes to see if his head is turned. then, if his head is turned, you have one of two choices: you can turn your head 90 degrees (and get a crick in the neck!) and meet his gaze and a possible smooch, or you can keep looking forward, knowing he's in prime smooching position.

there is also the other option of having one person sit in a non-traditional couch-sitting position. i'm a fan (i originally typed "afraid." HA!) of "native american style" couch sitting, in which you pretzel up your legs and face the person, creating a perpendicular alignment of bodies. this takes the pressure off you, as the native american sitting party, to be looking in the right direction. you're lookin', and if he wants to come in for the touchdown, BAM. easy. but i will warn: native american style sitting is not conducive to elongated kisses. you pose the threat of tipping over if you lean too far forward.

bottom line, i think first kisses should be shared somewhere conventional, while in the full and upright position.

then again...beggars can't be choosers.

a day with hemingway

connie is a crazy 'ol hoot. she's the volunteer coordinator at the Ernest Hemingway museum, and ever since i volunteered there about a year ago, she's called frequently ever since, asking if i could help out. i normally dismiss her late-night calls and her melodic voice messages (she seems to speak in a rhythm, complete with crescendos), but i decided to call her back this time. with no job to report to and no classes to study for, i figured i could offer society SOMETHING during this sedentary state-o-mine.

unlike when i volunteered before, when i was the greeter at the museum, i worked yesterday in hemingway's birth home. i was the "traffic controller," which is an authoritative name for "take tickets, greet, and tell guests when the next tour will be offered." i got to work with some lovely elderly docents who knew more about hemingway than hemingway even knew about himself.

what made the day so extraordinary was all the people i got to meet and talk to. people from taiwan, ireland, rome, california, pennsylvania, the netherlands, and korea all came to see where ernest first popped his manly head. while waiting for tours to start, i got to learn more about the visitors. one woman, from taiwan, was here on a three-month work visa. her and other international students spent the summer at six flags working food service. she loved it.

another man, whose name i never caught, was so generally interested in my life that it amazed me. i told him of my life here, my goals, my struggles, and he listened with a smile. he then introduced me to an English teacher he was traveling with on the tour group. upon hearing of my future plans to teach, the woman got giddy with excitement, telling me i would be great. it was just what i needed to hear.

it amazes me that one person, a person who lived decades ago, can still bring people from all over the world together in one tiny, humble place, such as a queen anne style house on oak park avenue. sometimes i think writing is self-centered and egotistical; then i remember the power of a book, the influence on a world, and common themes that we can all relate to, and writing and their authors take on a humble, magical aura.

grandma haikus

she sure is lively

my grandma who lives up high

on timbertop ranch

she is up by 4

greets the sun and the birds

with a lonely smile

she still speaks in "we"

knowing that he's gone but still

imagines he's there

she knows every bird

that graces her window pane

they are her t.v.

when asked if it rained

she can tell you exactly

a tenth of an inch

she keeps a photo

album nearby to paste in

obituaries

i often wonder

what i will do without her

i just close my eyes

turning it over in my mind

sorry for my blogging hiatus. i've been nose-deep in a puddle of contemplation, nothing of which belonged in this sharing space. while i feel self-awareness is a good thing, i've been muddling over my life, who i am, where i am, etc. to the point of retreating into a hole. sometimes i think i will never figure me out. and maybe that's ok. but i hope i can, someday, reach a point of contentment. that's my only desire.

i've been reading a book called this i believe II, which has impacted me profoundly. i used to believe in a lot of things. i used to believe in a lot of things PASSIONATELY. i don't anymore. not in the way i used to, at least. as i reflect on the beliefs of others, i've been trying to reconnect with my own beliefs, which has been uplifting.

sometimes i yearn to be 30. for some reason, i think i'll have it all figured out by then. but i probably won't. and i think that, perhaps, that's what life is all about; a continuous cycle of trying to figure it all out.