the next day

and then i ate like a bucket of fried rice.
and i was like, "ok people. this is getting nuts."

and then i had some chocolate covered nuts.

hershey shots

i lined up the hershey kisses in a row on my counter and downed them one after the other in quick succession. i did 5 in under a minute.

this is how i knew i was having a bad day.

what does it all mean?

yesterday, entirely by chance, i danced for about 8 hours straight.
and, to be honest, i found it piles more meaningful than the majority of my "meaningful" experiences.

Port-a-Potty Mobile

I'm driving home and I'm stopped at this intersection and I see to my right the cars coming and among them is a truck with a flashing light on top, and I think, "Why the flashing light? Emergency? Construction?" And then, the car comes into view and it is pulling a "Texas Outhouse," and suddenly, the flashing light was oh so appropriate.
I mean, people should pull over. It's just not safe.

sometimes

i make up conversations in my head. it's quietly cathartic, like one of those greek plays in which the audience experiences the emotions vicariously so as to purge them of the need to act out such tragedies in life.
whatever.
it is at times difficult for me not to compare myself to the tfa goddess across the hall. she is a second year tfa teacher like me. but, unlike me, she is organized and goal-driven. she also teaches in ways other than lecture and does so well, manages her classroom with aplomb, tracks her students' progress, creates lesson plans with what seems to be minimal stress, teaches engagement strategies to other teachers in the school, manages the twice weekly teacher meetings in our small learning community, is coordinator of the tfa school-site meetings, and is constantly reaching out to other teachers in her content area as well as the first year corp members at our school.
and she reaches out to me. in fact, she's one of my best friends in houston.
what does she eat for breakfast?
i read on her blog that she thinks that the first year tfa science teachers are looking up to her, and that it is nice. and i had this stab of there-is-no-way-that-a-first-year-can-look-up-to-me-because-i-am-still-planning-day-to-day pain. and i wanted to know, "Why? Why can i never get my act together?" this is not so i can feel the "i'm this amazing person" rush (after all, it's usually not all that true; plus i don't care who you are, if you feel this way no one wants to play with you) or because i'm jealous of the lady across the hall (i'm not), it's because i'd like to do more for people than i am. and her life reminds me of what mine is not.

but then again ... it doesn't really matter.
the play in my head went something like this:
(scene: i am sitting in a classroom with the tfa goddess. she, as the meeting's coordinator, is about to begin. two first year corp members troop in.)
me: hi, how has your first week been?
first year girl: ok. tough, but ok.
me: (laughing) sounds better than i did last year.
first year girl: oh, i'm sure it's about the same
(goddes and i exchange a look and we both laugh)
goddess: no, joy was seriously falling apart for the entire year last year.
first year girl: well, this year is better, right?
goddess: (winking at me) well, we'll see
me: (smiling) it's an acknowledged fact of my life.
goddess: she gets flustered.
clueless first year boy: (jumping in) then how did you get into tfa? i mean, you must do something right.
(awkward silence)
me: (then, looking straight at him) a little creativity and strength of will go a long way.
and it does, guys. i'm still here, aren't i?
the point of this is not the "i'm ok/you're ok/we're all ok/i'm doing the best i can and that's enough" rhetoric, though it may seem so. the point is more like i'm shrugging my shoulders. who really cares? i kinda like what i learned last year and this past summer. i do like how far i've come. i kinda like my classes, and i like what i'm doing in class. and i know it's not enough, but when is it ever enough? exactly. never. so, there is this often unacknowledged space between obsession and i-just-don't-care. i don't know what that place is called, but i'm saying it's a pretty good space. i think i'm gonna like it here.
thank you greek theatre. maybe i'll re-read the odyssey after all.

If only

I had my students write themselves those, "What do I want to accomplish by the end of the school year" letters (ala Ms Saccamanno, 8th grade English). And one girl specifically requested I read her letter. So I did, and what did I find? "Ms. Tang, this summer I got pregnant and I lost my baby and I look happy but really I am quite sad," and she would like a letter back from me, please.
"Do you want to talk?"
"No, Miss."
"You just want a letter."
"Yes."
So, a letter.

all i want to say is

teaching is hard.

random metaphor

i find, that a dancer can move quite effectively if he or she can find even a few inches of dance floor space. the key is finding that tiny square of space on which to stand. and then you can fly.

i'm not the only one

Raging Aardvark: i propose to you a conjecture: all asians are, in one way or another, mentally infirm.
JoieTang: absolutely
JoieTang: if not so at birth, then driven there with a vengeance

Is this racist?

I believe that I have anti-Chinese tendencies.
You must understand; I just now remembered the day I became convinced of my fatness. I was 12 or 13, and the siblings and I were at a family friend's house. These people were (in fact they still are) Chinese, so when you imagine this scene, imagine it in Chinese with twitchy, black-haired people running about in it.
And if you don't speak Chinese, well. That's even better.
The lady of the house was measuring me for some hand-me-down pants. She threaded the measuring tape around my waist and then held it up, eye-level. Chaos ensued. "Mimi," she literally screamed, "This cannot be! Mimi! Wah!" And then she measured again and when it was the same, she shook her head in what I guess was disbelief. "Mimi," she said this quite firmly,"You must go on a diet. You are too big. This," she then bellowed across the living room to my mother, "is how big I was in college!"
I remember being devastated.
However, today I also remembered that at 13, I was 5' tall and had just reached 101 lbs.
So now, I just hate Chinese women. Stupid tiny Chinese women.
My first time shopping in China, a lady walked up behind me to look at the skirt I was holding. She said, "You can't get into that," and walked away. I've also had someone tell me that I had a Chinese face and an American body. (Which means a fat body, in case that wasn't clear.) I've had a girl actually put her hands on either side of my ribcage, shake me like a cantalope, and then look at me in wonder, "Your body is so dense."
I've heard that in Taiwan, acupuncture, this age-old Chinese medicine, is now a weight-loss alternative. Seriously? Seriously, I want to know, what is wrong with these people?!
When will the Chinese learn that there is a difference between a high standard and a standard of objective perfectionism? When will they learn that the latter hinders more than it helps.
So many people, so much stupid.

postscript

PMS is real.
Can I get a witness?

Happy Twin Day

Happy Birthday, Allen!

Happy Birthday, Melodie!