first time for everything

cheshireNwndrlnd: ttyl
cheshireNwndrlnd: first time using that. =0)
JoieTang: ttyl virgin
JoieTang: nice

joy tang's version of being depressed

when i dance salsa, i can no longer hear the beat. it just went away. thus, when i dance, i can feel myself rushing, but i can't for the life of me actually hear when to put my foot down and when to pick it up, and therefore, i can't fix it. 123-AND-567. there's this pause on AND; i can't feel the AND. so my dancing has no texture. there's no breath, like someone speaking in monotone.
i know, i know. woe is me (or woe is i...whatever.) but it's breaking my heart.

what a blogful day

i am ill once again. i get ill so often now that i teach. runny nose, congested head, sore throat. i've got it all. at least, this time, i haven't lost my voice. try teaching without a voice. it's cute. i had to write all directions on the board.
i spent a productive five minutes this evening crushing fortune cookies. i found them in the top cupboard, next to the theraflu. so, i sat on the counter, mixing my theraflu and cracking the fortune cookies into the sink. my fortunes are:

you may have to change your plans.
you will make a name for yourself.
someone is looking up to you.

i find that i have a strange superstition about fortune cookies. as i crack them open, i sometimes get this fluttery feeling of "wow, i wonder what it's going to say," and for a moment, while i'm actively reading the slip of paper, i actually believe that this, this is my destiny. it's forgotten in the next five minutes, but for that moment, i'm like, man, the fate of my universe is in my hands. it's heady stuff. who needs reality television, honestly.
anyway, it was sort of devastating to read about how i need to change my plans, seeing as i was just informed that UC Riverside never received one of my reccommendations. i'm hoping the prof sent it, or will send it. i emailed him. i hope he replies. i hope i get in. i really hope that i won't have to change my plans.
but then it was so uplifting to think that no matter what i do, i will "make a name for myself," and then i was like "ahhhh...some student looks up to mini-teacher tang. how sweet."
it was a rollercoaster of a five minutes, obviously. good times were had by all.

while i was lying in bed, before the whole fortune cookie thing, i was watching channel 13 news. who is the stupid blonde chick doing the reporting about violence in houston schools? "we'll follow up on this news story so that we can continue to give you perspective about what's happening in your schools." whatever lady. who does she think she is? you giving us perspective? who says that you have perspective? who says that the 3, count them, 3 teachers and 1 student and 1 parent interviewed in the 5 minute blip about one of the largest school districts in the nation in the aftermath of one of the most publicized hurricane seasons in recent history in any way presents an accurate and viable perspective on anything? i'm not saying that houston does not have a problem. i'm saying who gave the blonde chick with bad streaks in her hair the credibility stamp? who told her she oculd talk? i mean, artifical coloring aside, please. give us perspective, please. i'd like to give her a fortune.

in your next life, you will have a teleprompter chained to your right leg.

seriously, there should be more speech writers. we need them the way we need good secretaries and trustworthy tax lawyers. i wish i had a script writer. who wrote the script that had me trapped in bed with a mug of theraflu? tonight people are salsa dancing at taco milagro, without ME. i am very displeased.

i gotta go to school...

right now, i have to go to school. i woke up late. it's 7:33am. but, i had the weirdest dream. it was this dream within a dream. i was at my cousin's house. and there was this guy lying in a bed. in the dream, it was one of his friends, but in my head in the dream (the person i was in the dream was thinking that it was...) it was my first ex-boyfriend? and so, I laid down next to him, and gave him a kiss, thinking it was the ex, and when the dream-me woke up and found out it was the friend, we both did the "EWWWW!" thing and wiped our faces...at least we've confimed: not attracted to that one?
and then the dream changed places. I had to go from this house to another place. i had to go watch this independent movie while the cousin and cohorts went carousing. and so, i was dropped off, and then realized i had no cell phone with me, but oh well. and i watched this scratchy, patchy movie, but not all of it. part of the reel was broken. but apparently it was one of the newly, shall we say, "in" nature documentary/dramas. this one had trained lions hunting buffalo.
the cell phone part comes back into play when an elderly man says, "hi joy," and tells me we have to leave the movie a little early, and dream-me is half waking into real-time me now, but is still willing to go along with this. and we drive in his pickup to a little, white house. and there we (the two joy-consiousness-es) learn that this is matthew mcconaughy's father (i have no idea how to spell that.) the three of us and matthew's gorgeus sisters (i also do not know if matthew has sisters) were going big game hunting; specifically, we were going to hunt buffalo with trained lions...who knew?
so, we drove out to first check out the campsites, and dream-joy AND real-joy were getting quite nervous, but mostly because i had no gear, and everyone expected me to have gear. i woke up as i was explaing to matthew that i couldn't go because i didn't have boots, only these slip-on shoes and that i couldn't call the cousin to pick me up because i didn't have my cell phone and i had forgotten my house key with my cell phone, but hey, i had my credit card...though i didn't think it would help in the wild, what with the ineffectiveness of swiping my card on a tree and all (i was saying this in the dream. yes. wow, right?)
and matthew had the most concerned look on his face, really disappointed. after this, his burly father, who was dressed in a gingham shirt, a red gingham shirt, told me that he would not be opposed to me making a move on his son...which statement shocked both the joy-people.
the strangest portion of this whole thing, however, is that during the dream, matthew m. could speak chinese without an accent, and did so several times. apparently, i knew him in college because we were both learning chinese in college. and, i called matthew m. george. his name was george.
to school, to school.

to my friend teaching in camden

JoieTang: i heard it's ridiculously cold up where you are, on the news
cheshireNwndrlnd: yeah, my feet are cold and i'm inside
cheshireNwndrlnd: i guess the landlord is waiting for hell to freeze over before releasing the heat
JoieTang: it's apparent that the latent heat from hell is no longer warming the NorthEast
JoieTang: the puritan fervor finally killed off the last dregs
cheshireNwndrlnd: ahahahhahahahha

and

and peanut butter. about 8 tablespoons of peanut butter. and a bar of chocolate. and thai food with brown rice. and several morningstar soy patties, and chocolate/soy cereal bars, and then some more tofu...it's like pouring whole foods into my stomach. and celery with ginger-miso dressing. that store OWNS me.
it's all a conspiracy. an organic foods conspiracy.

tension makes me...

apparently, when i'm tense, i eat fruit. i've had a banana, an orange, 2 green apples, and strawberries (in my yogurt).
or is that... when i'm tense, i just eat, and i just happen to have alot of fruit at the moment? that's probably a bit more likely.

the week in revue

my broom has been stolen out of my classroom. to quote Tomas, an ex-student, "Miss, the only reason anyone would want to steal a broom is to beat the crap out of somebody." so, whoever you are...i hope you're putting it to proper use.
oh, and furthermore, the accompanying dustpan has been officially confiscated by the cleaning-lady. it just sits there, smiling at me from on top of her cart.
people, please. i got them both from the dollar store. a little dignity here.

and yesterday, i got lost once and got my car towed once.

(throwing confetti)

return of the crazy lady

talking tfa. that's what i call it. it can't be helped. sometimes, it just happens.
NiragKadakia: joy. how is class going
NiragKadakia: this job is ridiculous
JoieTang: it is, isn't it?
JoieTang: i've lost my sense of humor again
JoieTang: it's been 4 days
NiragKadakia: HA
NiragKadakia: 4 days
JoieTang: indeed
JoieTang: i went two days
JoieTang: i took a day off because of a blinding migraine
JoieTang: and then went back today
JoieTang: and forgot, FORGOT when 2 of my classes ended, believing BOTH times that i had half an hour more than i actually had, when i've had the same schedule for 1.5 years
JoieTang: i've lost it
NiragKadakia: damn. that sucks
JoieTang: i actually started jumping up and down, in front of the class, with my hands on my head, and the kids were like "Ms. Tang, are you ok?"
i said, "no."
no, i was not ok. i can't quite explain it. do i care? yes, but it feels sometimes that i just can't remember why i care, or what it is that i care about. i'm so tired, for no real reason at all, whatsoever. i think i'm tired, because i care; i think i can't remember why i care because i'm tired. i'm tired of talking about me, and how i feel, and yet, here i am again, and again. i'm a second year teacher, and it is, it is, much better than last year. and i do love to teach, i promise, though you can't tell. and no, i'm not in denial.
but...if i could somehow explain what it means to not...know that you're making any kind of difference...and that you can't make that difference without destroying yourself. this is how i feel, i guess, and feelings are not always based on reality. but, i'm not here to talk about what is or is not.
what i want to say is just this: that everyday i'm faced with a seemingly impossible task, and the task's requirements seems to come down to a single choice -- my life or theirs? when i spend myself entirely, i can produce one good lesson. and then, that night and the next day, my body cries, because it is so tired. so other days, i go to bed, and produce lessons that, i think, would be good enough for another audience, but not for our kids -- not my kids, who need to be engaged, and nurtured, entertained and enriched, who need to expand their minds AND learn how to read. it's never enough.
tonight, i'm going to bed. does that mean that i've failed someone? in the world of tfa, it means that i have. but, truly, i don't think i can live every day of my life as if i'm fighting a war. how can i live a life, a civilian life, in which sleep itself is the crime?