A little about Zim

Lemme tell you a little about my best friend... (OK, so just one of my best friends ... cuz I'm one of those greedy folks who's got a few besties... but I feel like telling you about this one in particular...) For anonymity's sake, I'll call him/her Zim. I'm overcome with the desire to write about Zim because I miss Zim so much. Zim and I are in the current state that all best friends go through every now and then: we're wrapped up in our own love interests too much to remember to make time for each other. Regardless, Zim are still one of the bests. Here's a little about Zim.

These aren't necessarily what I like about Zim or even Zim's best qualities. This is just a general description of Zim.

Zim and I met on a fortuitously on an August afternoon and were inseparable in the years that followed. Zim is the kind of person that everyone gets a long with -- everyone's got a claim on Zim as their best friend. I cannot harbor any sort of jealousy though, because Zim always has a way to make me feel like I'm the only one that matters when I'm with Zim. I'm sure that's how Zim makes everyone feel, actually. Zim always picks up the phone when I call and not with a "hey, what's up?" in an expectant way that translates to mean "hey, why are you calling?". Instead, Zim answers the phone with "April, how are you?!"

Zim is a daredevil, which makes me wonder why Zim wants to have anything to do with squirmish me.

New Decade Resolutions

For those of you keeping track at home...

(originally posted 12/31/2009)

-Start a personal library (in the process... check)

-Work on a new wardrobe (always an on-going process... check)

-Get better at singing (ditto)

-Become an avid writer (need to keep working on this one)

-Win an award (check)

-Be able to understand a little bit of another language

-Be married. Maybe. I don't know, never mind.

-Travel a lot... even if that includes not leaving the country much.

-Make sure that my sisters graduate from a respectable college and each have good jobs (one sister officially enrolled in a university, one to go)

20-somethings

I still wake up (and fall asleep) every now and then a bit anxious, but for the most part, I'm happy. I'm content. I'm finally settling into something that I've been waiting for. I'm in my twenties.

Until now, I waited impatiently for an unspecified lifestyle. I was a walking time machine. I watched as my past, my childhood, played before my eyes day to day. I held my tongue while others around me treated me like a 14-year-old, a 17-year-old, a 19-year-old, when I knew that it didn't feel right.

I'm finally living in the present. I am who I always meant to be; I am now who I knew I would eventually become, completely; I look in the mirror and I know the person staring back at me.

If my twenty-somethings is the age that I was always meant to be -- if my twenty-somethings remains to be the age that I was meant to flourish and never waste -- then I'm glad that I've made every day count so far. Gotta keep going.

Make every day count.

Craftsmanship

I’m now six months out of college. Only. Only?! College was an entire lifetime away. One my favorite lessons learned since then has to do with all the interesting people I’ve met since then, all of whom have one thing in common… keep reading.

The way I see it, there are those who are unable to work, perhaps some who are not compelled to work, those who hate their work, some who are so-so about their work, and finally, we have those who love their work. They love what they do. They didn’t necessarily imagine themselves doing this job at the ripe age of 3, 15 or 22, but they fell into it, the stars aligned, and bada-bing, bada-boom – a happy match between occupation and human being. This could result from a variety of combinations of factors such as sociable coworkers, bomb-ass bosses, paid vacation days, meaningful duties, and a six-figure salary. Or something.

And then… there are those who do what they love. These are the interesting people whom I’ve found myself running into on a weekly basis.

11.11.11

I spent a bit of time yesterday thinking about the date. The date. Catch that? It's hard to emphasize capital "The" when it is at the beginning of the sentence. Let's try this: The date. As in, calendar date.

I'm not the only one that does this from time to time, date to date. People count down the days to and celebrate days like 08.09.10 (kudos to those who caught the 08.09.10 11:12:13 moment in time); my senior ditch day in high school was 06.06.06; less than one year after my birth, we had such a date as 6.7.89. Needless to say, I was unable to fully appreciate the charm of said date the day of, but surely others in the world were ahh-ing and ooh-ing (while I was babbling and cooing).

Anyway, when these funny calendar days arrive, I spend a second thinking about it, and then spend all the rest of the seconds in the day not thinking about it. Because... you know, whatever. Dun' matter.

Context:

I'm sitting in an empty living room (that is, empty of people... besides myself, obviously.), chowing down on homemade avocado shake (whatever it's called), in my school-work clothes (whatever it is that student-teachers wear), exhausted after a day of high school classes, college classes, and talking on the phone with my mom about her college and high school daughters.

Memory:

Last night, I walked into the living room to find David laying on the couch watching the Giants game on T.V. I'm trying to find a place to include one particular detail in that sentence, but I can't find room for it, so I'll just add it on here: David is in a sleeping bag.

Me: (Laughing) "Why are you in a sleeping bag?"

David: "[something something something] ... I just bought a sleeping bag, ice cream, and beer. It's like I'm preparing for the best sleepover ever."

Me: "Did you really have sleepovers as a kid?"

David: "Yeah."

Me: "What do dudes even do at sleepovers?"

David: [without missing a beat] "Have pillow fights in our underwear."

Me: "Oh, ok, so just like us girls."

Womp womp.

One Order of Mental Stimulation, Please.

One of the hardest things about being a perfectionist is... despite the fact that perfection can never be achieved, a perfectionist never stops trying anyway.

= = =

My mind is in need of some stimulation. I've been getting an adequate amount of sleep every night -- to the point where I wake up before my alarm -- I sit in a high school classroom anywhere from 2-4 hours a day, perhaps grade for a few more hours, sit in a college classroom for another 4 hours, sit at home and do homework...

I'm bored!!!!

I'm used to getting almost no sleep, ruminating over my day, perfecting this, tweaking that, juggling schedules, interacting with students, hiding my smile when they unknowingly do something adorable, comparing notes with teachers, and just overall feeling like I was getting somewhere in life.

Why Teach?

"The thing about teaching is... you can't go in trying to be a hero. You can't see yourself as this great savior, trying to save the kids and all that. You just come in and teach. You do your best. Whatever happens after that, happens."

-S.T.

= = =

The past several months has been such a humbling experience. From getting rejected from my top two post-college choices, to teaching my own class for the first time, to meeting 60+ social-justice-savvy teacher credential candidates, I can't help but feel no better than Joe Shmoe just trying to make it in this world.

Making Room

A: "It's natural to feel embarrassed. But you shouldn't feel embarrassed about feeling embarrassed, because, well, it's natural."

I: "Yeah, you've gotta make room for it."

= = =

I'm making room for the other feelings. The other, "non-happy" feelings. I spend so much time trying to be fair and even-tempered; it's time to give all of my other emotions their time to breathe so that they may exhale from my body and leave me in peace. I don't want to combust.

I'd like to think that human emotion is more complex and meaningful than something that can be controlled, forced, or altered.

Just let me be. Let me be the way I am right now for now. I'll be happy tomorrow.

A little more about me... I'm a very emotional person. I don't want to say "over-emotional", because then it sounds like something's wrong with me when there's not. I just experience a lot of emotions. Also, they come at me full force. Yes, it's a little stressful at times (another emotion I feel when I'm feeling other emotions). But there you have it.

I write this disclaimer because I find that I've been hiding from writing -- something that has taken more effort to do than writing itself. I hide from writing because it is (insert valley girl tone here) so not cool to be, like, totally emo.

But if it's uncool to be emotional, then I guess I'll come off my high horse and do what it takes to just be me so that I can start writing again. My writing is emotional and personal; it leaves me naked and vulnerable to critique for its style and content. For my style and content.

There you have it, now you know, now let the writing commence. I want to clock in my 10,000 hours of writing practice.

A picked flower

is delicate

is desirable

cannot stand on its own

no longer grows.

20N10R

delirious and kind of moody.

my profs are giving us all a hard time...

but i'm beginning to not care.

i'm stuck in a mentality where they are the ones in the wrong.

we are trying our best.

not sure how i'm supposed to

study/work/interview/educateothers/beinterviewed/providemoralsupport/reflect/affordlunch/volunteer/organize

and still be expected to get a good grade and have perfect attendance in their classes.

just sayin'.

Hipster!

Currently at work, debating with folks about what a hipster is. After several contradicting descriptions, one of which described me, one girl quickly and excitedly pointed at me and yelled "hipster!"

I said, "Oh, ok."

Silence.

"Never mind, hipsters don't admit to being hipsters. If you think you are one, you aren't."

LINKS: "Hipster Holocaust: 9 Reasons Hipsters are Annoying ". "Hipster: The Dead End of Western Civilization".

I'm changed.

...and it's been causing blogger's block. At least in this blog. I can't relate to the girl that used to write here.

I feel angry. and hurt. and ready for a revolution.

edit.

Alright, well... I submit to the fact that there is always room for work. In my case, as a young, overzealous yuppie who has spent too much time in an impenetrable bubble of privilege, similar opinions, and overall inexperience... I humbly acknowledge that I have plenty of room for improvement.

Dear Self,

You are smart, outspoken, creative, quick-thinking, extremely organized, and a damn hard worker (perhaps even to a fault).

Signed,
Still-hopeful-and-confident half of self

= = =

I s'pose I should start working on my interview skills. I do wish that my ghost of academic past will stop haunting me.

I also would like for people to stop giving me the ol' once over when I tell them that I want to be a teacher and saying things like "You? Are you sure they're going to take you seriously, I mean... You're kinda short. No offense." Coupled with looks that say "aw, isn't that cute". For that matter, I don't particularly like the "sweet, you'd make a hot teacher" comments either.

I will be a good teacher. Really good. All y'all are just standing in my way.

Currently having that odd sensation of realizing that life is very strange yet also having the faith that this is all leading up to something wonderful.

So strange.

I re-read and proof read
I re-write and edit
Scrap, chuck, add,
Replace, redo,
Re-write, and re-write, and re-write;
But it never ends!!!!


I always cringe when re-reading old stuff I've turned in to professors.

Co-incidence

I'm trying really hard to pay attention to my work and class readings and all that... but my thoughts keep invading my mind.

I was trying to read some article or another for an Ethnic Studies class. I started thinking about life... OK, my life, to be more exact... past, present, and future. I started wondering about purpose, fate, luck, the process of maturity...

I wondered, "am I becoming someone more like me, or will I always be me? ..."

*Focus on reading.. focus on reading*...

"...was I always me, or did I become me?" ...

*focus on reading, focus on reading*...

Then, suddenly, a line from the reading: "we have always thought of ourselves as getting more like ourselves everyday."


Great. I couldn't read my readings, so my readings read my mind.

giving up

I was really excited to take a graduate class this semester. I got the syllabus, got the first week's worth of reading... stayed up all night doing thisnthat, but still very very very motivated to complete the 200-some pages of reading for week 1 alone.

But I can't do it. I'm so tired. It was a rough weekend.

I have a lot on my plate.

I think I'm going to throw in the towel before the first round.

This makes me sad.

late night antsy-ness calls for a stroll down memory lane... and, in this digital age of lame social networks on which everyone and their mom congregates... strolls down such lanes only entails click, click, clicking through "Photos Tagged of Me". Woo.

if i were a stranger to me and i to were click, click, clicking through my photos, i would think that i am a very happy and very silly person.

and i would be right about me, incidentally.

so i want to be happy and silly tomorrow. which is today.

so it shall be.

Talk to Me

"Are you new here?"
"Sort of, I've been working here for one semester."
"I'm in here a lot, and I try to introduce myself to the folks that work here."
"Well, in that case, I'm April."

Every now and then, I produce another blog post about my feeling hopelessly awkward in everyday instances of meeting new people. I want to try harder, though... I'll still be awkward for a while, but I'm sure I'll get better with practice. I introduced myself to a friend of a friend last week on two separate occasions. I still remember their names. I'm proud of myself.

Oddly enough, I feel less talkative lately than I usually am. Phone conversations and car rides are becoming more silent more frequently. What's more surprising is my feeling OK with this. I like to think of it as a sign of maturity. Not everything is "omg this is so totally amazing, lemme tell you about it"; contrary to what I used to think, I don't know it all; more than likely, not everyone cares about my every opinion about everything.

I want to take this time in my life to receive, listen, feel, experience, and inhale. I was young before, but I'm a different kind of young now. I'm ready to learn.

So, talk to me.

Just another list

-Fatigue

-Stuffy nose

-Runny nose

-Sore body

-Phlegm-y cough

-Dry cough

-Watery eyes

-Itchy throat

-Sinus pains

-Sneezing

Ugh, gross. What a waste of a week. Also, odd to think that the beginning of the week was marked by a skipped beach trip because of [list], yet the end of the week will be marked by relaxing at the beach because there is nothing else to do because of [list].

Gotta shake this off before heading back to The Bay. Then, I alone shall do the damage. You have met your match, Semester Two of Senior Year!

Binge.

Currently binging on books. Pulled a 6-hour session yesterday. Terrrrrible. Muscle Atrophy.

I'll be sure to include a short book report of each read before school starts up again.

The Universe Continues to Consipire (against me).

I was the only one in the family that cared about seeing Mr. Obama while here on the islands. The ONE time that I decide to stay home instead of going out shopping with them, GUESS who they run into.

Go on. Guess.

And to think, I was the only one in this family that voted for him.

Hang Loose, Brah.

Picture this:

You're sitting on the front porch. The air is still. There's only a slight cool breeze that whispers past every now and then, as though to refresh your skin from the heat of the setting sun to your right. The humidity in the air only reminds you of how alive, lush, and green everything is here.

You're reading a good book. Fourth one in two weeks... something like that, you've lost track. You brought out a small table to set your laptop and your afternoon cup of coffee. The laptop is there to keep your S.O. on video chat. The house is silent, everyone is out.

Life doesn't get any slower paced than this.

Growing Pains/Love Pangs

I'm getting bigger, the world is getting smaller,
friend and family networks expand beyond the roof of my home and the borders of my school, friends are learning new languages, family members build new families of their own.
In the meantime, my Facebook page will always be covered with "I miss you!"'s from all over the world.

Thank you for being in my life, everyone. I miss you, too. Even if you aren't physically present today, you are ever present in my heart, thoughts, and prayers.

New Decade Resolutions

New year resolutions are sooooo 2009. You so two-thousand-and-late.

Since this is the dawn of a new decade, I figured: Why set intense, short-term goals when I can set long-term goals which'll only take an ounce of daily/weekly/annual effort?

So, here they are... My Long Term Goals of Decade II of the New Millennium.

-Start a personal library

-Work on a new wardrobe

-Get better at singing

-Become an avid writer

-Win an award

-Be able to understand a little bit of another language

-Be married. Maybe. I don't know, never mind.

-Travel a lot... even if that includes not leaving the country much.

-Make sure that my sisters graduate from a respectable college and each have good jobs

OK, I think that's it. For now.

Good-bye, old decade of new millennium! Hello 2010!