Happy Hanukie

Anyway today is the last night of Hanukkah and was also the day I just didn't care about crap at work. We had our Hanukkah show (which becomes the "Winter Show" because most of the students aren't actually Jewish) and the kids knew something was up because they were all fucking ape-shit wild all day.
Since we're so close to vacation and I'm usually dead-as-a-mofo-tired by Friday I usually just let them run amok and interject my adultness sparingly. If I try too hard on Fridays I might end up doing something naughty and being hauled off to jail.

So "rest" time: which for 3 year-olds and for well-behaved kids means that you sit on a dirty, flimsy plastic mat and nod to sleep for an hour but for my kids it means progressively get louder and do more and more illicit 4 year-old activities until the teacher loses her shit and yells to be quiet and sit down.
Normally I do stress out because it's a half hour for me where you can't distract them with activities because you're not supposed to have activities but they're just not going to sit and chill in their own private worlds so I'm basically freaking out the whole time and hating my life and even them (occasionally...well no, not occasionally, mostly always). But today was one big 'FUCK IT'.

At one point in this little alcove 6 of my little delinquents had gathered and created "weapons" out of toys. They were beating the crap out of each other with fists and feet. Making punching noises with their mouths. It was kinda funny but because I have 15 boys in my class the play-fighting progressed to actual fighting many months ago. There are just too many of them to stay innocent. So anyway, here they are REALLY hitting and kicking and I literally was just sitting there, in a tiny chair, eating my yogurt and making bets with myself about who would start crying first. They were all holding their own pretty well and you could tell they were loving this mini brawl. At one point the head teacher zipped in because she forgot something (we each take a half-hour break during "rest" time) and she saw me watching them brawl and she busted out laughing. She later told me that she announced to our friend in the front office that "Jamie must be done because she's just sitting there watching them kick each other's asses."

Let me tell you: If you are not a teacher and you ever nag a teacher about having lots of vacation you best shut your trap. This crap is exhausting and we need and deserve every day we get. I don't even have to plan lessons and grade papers. You're in a room with 20 behavioral experiments. 20 children who exhibit all the mistakes their parents are making.

This job is fucking nuts.

This Thing Called Pain

I called out from work today. Let me tell you, there is nothing more horrible than going to bed early to be well rested but waking up at 5 in the morning with a raging, stabbing, migraine. It just ruins any hope of having a normal day. I've been getting more migraines lately and because of the nature of where I work and what I do (nursery school, not-so-understanding employer) I've been ingesting all sorts of over-the-counter pills, going into work, and being miserable all morning until my brain starts functioning a little more normally by the afternoon. But this morning it was early and I knew it was only going to get worse so I called out.

It's now 2pm and even though it's a little better I'm still uncomfortable. It pretty much wipes you out. It's like I've been in a battle all day. So here I am, in slight pain, worried about the crap vibe I might get at work tomorrow, and I can't even watch tv or read a book because it's too stimulating. Even creating this post is pushing it but I needed something to do to crawl out of bed for a bit. So off I go back to sulk on the couch. I don't get to work-out today even though I hate skipping. I don't get to read. I just have to wait for it to go away.

I've Been Bitten. aka Not An Original Blog Post Title

So there I was washing paint brushes at work so happy to be close to the end of the day when my head teacher, a gal my age who is someone I'm glad I'm getting to know, says "What are you doing after work?" Since we don't socialize I didn't really know where the question was going. "Nothing" I say, which anyone who spends time with me should already know that is what I'm going to say because saying "Walking my dog, going to the gym, then making dinner and watching Jeopardy" is to embarrassing to admit.

"We're going to go see New Moon after work if you would like to come." I felt slightly deflated. I was happy to have been invited but was not interested in watching New Moon in any way. I wasn't up on that whole vampire series. Part of it was my own fault, I'd been curious about it and of course thought that I would have to read the books first before I delved into the movies, but I kept putting it off. And now here I was invited to a social outing to watch not only a movie but the second movie. My OCD was raging: I won't know the back story! I won't know what happened last time there was a movie. How does a teen girl end up dating a vampire? Why is he so hot? Why are people so obsessed?

So at first, I declined, she asked again, and in an effort to act more like a 28 year old than a 48 year old I said sure. Sure, I have to be at work tomorrow but I won't run home right away. I'll go socialize. Gasp.

While waiting to go into the theatre I asked basic questions that I would want to have known about the plot. I went in. The movie started. It's cheesy, campy. The lines are delivered with not-so-wonderful acting. There is ridiculousness abound. "OH, your head is bleeding. Let me remove my entire t-shirt to blot your wound. Don't mind my six pack hovering in your face".
Stuff like that that I always try to avoid.

But I couldn't help it. I was sucked in. I wanted to know more. I wanted to root for Edward. I wanted to root for Jacob. I wanted to know why Kristen Stewart couldn't try to act a little better. A little more damsel a little less dead-pan, bored, and unemotional. It was also fun to just hear the ladies I was with react with glee to things that should be fun. I should enjoy the silly kisses. I should enjoy the romance. Isn't that why they make these movies? So you can imagine yourself in these ridiculous moments that just don't exist in real life?

So of course, there being a third and fourth installment to these stories the movie leaves you knowing so much more is coming and in my situation leaves me to realize that I've got some learning to do. Being a big fan of reading I thought that Thanksgiving weekend would be perfect to dive in. So on our way to dinner we stopped at Wal-Mart, land of the depressed, poorly treated worker, and I got me the first two installments for dirt cheap. I woke up this morning and, except to write this post to "shout it from the rooftops", I haven't put the book down. Even though I really do want to go out if only to go to the gym, I can't stop. I'm obsessed.

Man, that Edward is sexy.

I'm Accepting It and Moving On

It's been something that has been on my mind for awhile. Tossing around, fermenting, and then today I finally came to the realization that I just have to accept it and move on even if it bums me out:

If I was a mutant I'd probably be a member of Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants even though obviously any smart, well-intended mutant would want to be a part of Professor X's X-Men.

I'm judging based solely on my information from the movies and I'm not taking into account any long and confusing back stories or details that only comic book freaks would think about. I get that both groups are victims of horrible bigotry and mutants in general are feared in society because they are misunderstood and ostracized. But what it comes down to is X-Men are good and life-saving and want to make the world accept mutants and the Brotherhood is mad as hell and they're not going to take it anymore.

So often when I'm walking down the street and someone really pisses me off I always think of some vengeful move that I would do if I had 'powers'. All this vengeance which sadly is never mine makes me realize that most of my 'powers' would be used in anger therefore I'd be a Brotherhood member just dishing out a cold fate to people who pressed the wrong buttons.

For example the most common thing that seriously makes me a wild woman is a driver who is a ginormous asshole and cuts me off when I have the right of way when walking. When that douche-bag taxi driver almost runs over my feet because god-forbid he have to use his brake pedal for 5 fucking seconds I ALWAYS want to be able to just like, graze my finger on his trunk as he speeds by me while standing in the freaking crosswalk and have something happen that just ruins his day. Most of the time I'd like one of his tires to instantly blow out or maybe like his battery to just magically die and his car go to poop. Or like his windshield shatter. That's a good one.

Either way though I wouldn't want anyone to even notice that I inflicted the damage. It would just be the slight touch on the vehicle. Or perhaps some crazy powerful energy expelled from me thinking of the action. But always something really low key so I can just stand on the corner looking surprised like everyone else as I watch the chaos that ensues.

It's not always just about me though. Whenever I see a jerk driver do dangerous stuff to like a lady with a stroller or an old person walking slowly I always wish I could do it too as justice for them. That's when I'm like: It's for someone else, that's good right, that makes me an X-man! No. I'm sure it doesn't.

But maybe I could be a member of the X-Men and I could just be the member who has anger-management issues. And when that kinda stuff happens I get demerits or maybe Professor-X doesn't let me leave the school grounds for awhile, like I'm grounded. But I'm still a good girl. Maybe Wolverine and I could have a beer and discuss how exhausting it is not to want to punch everyone in the face.

Either way. I wish I just school some people. Because let's face it. Assholes rule the world. There is no justice. They'll never learn and it makes me really angry.

Sigh.

Halloween: A Tale of Survival

So, I don't know if this wasn't crystal clear before but I'm not a big fan of where I live. Meaning, more precisely, the building I live in. I've got loudness coming from alleys, cigarette smoke liberally wafting in from the bitch downstairs who smokes in the hallway, drug dealers who give you shady looks as you walk through their deals to get to your home, and teenagers with nothing else to do but be thugs-in-training who block the entry steps.
Add that to occasionally no water in the shower (always best when you're already covered in soap), and no heat- ever, and wow...I love it!

My only sense of hope is that Mark and I follow the same pattern as we did in Tahoe: our first apartment upon first glance was cute and cozy and then became a house of horror. Our second apartment was Tahoe-fantastic (for us anyway). I'd like to think that our second go at apartments in NYC will be a vast improvement but since I don't see our money situation really increasing and rents definitely increasing that hope is pretty grainy. It's a hard feeling to cope with- when your home is not always the sanctuary you need.

So here comes Halloween and I'm terrified. Not only is it Halloween but it's a Saturday. The vibe outside should be pretty horrible tonight. Yesterday when I arrived home there were already eggs strewn on the courtyard floor. At 4 in the morning I heard a whole lot of males hollering and making a ruckus of some sort that sounded like mounting violence. Car alarms started to go off and eventually I heard police sirens boop-booping and a voice over loudspeaker telling them to break it up. So hopefully not too much damage or carnage ensued but I'm not planning to be anywhere after dark falls. I hate walking into my courtyard in daytime I'm not risking it tonight.

Only 8 months left on the lease!

¿Qué es eso?

So let's see. My neighborhood. I grew up here and I don't mean to sound like people should be in awe of me but I do think it's funny that I've gone and seen things that some in the neighborhood don't even know exist. How do I mean this? I mean, forget the Inwood of now. The Inwood with its one-bedroom Co-ops selling for over $400,000. Forget the Inwood of the Indian Road Cafe, of yoga in the park, of yoga period.

Remember when Inwood was sketch? Remember when the 207^th Street A train subway stop was one long, dark, dank hallway that you had to walk all the way down to get to the turnstile? Basically, the Inwood before money started moving in (or when the money was just on Park Terrace)?

Anyway, that's just a long intro into something funny I witnessed walking to work the other day. It was garbage day on my street and as I walked to work in my usual depressed state I saw a snowboard tossed on top of a pile of garbage. My immediate reaction was 'Holy Cow, a snowboard! In Inwood? On Vermilyea?'.

Now don't get me wrong, from the little bit I know of snow gear I don't think it was a very high quality snowboard, but a snowboard it was. So here I am, staring and I notice the old lady who sweeps the sidewalk staring at the snowboard too. Her friend starts to walk towards her and (everything she says in Spanish) she tells her friend 'Hey look at that'. Then the super of the building, the guy who would've put the snowboard out there, comes out of the building and she goes 'Hey old man, what is that thing?'

It gave me a good laugh. Part of me wanted to turn around and explain it to her in horrible español but I just kept walking. I really wish I could've heard his answer. But this is my point. Here I am, from this neighborhood, where most people don't even know what a snowboard is.

Meanwhile, I lived in Tahoe for almost 3 years. Worked in a ski shop for a winter (wha?) I've even skied (three goes on an easy slope where I cheated death). I've lived where every other person had a snowboard constantly strapped to the top of their Subaru. And I'm not from an adventurous clan. So sometimes when I see people here in awe of something so many people outside of this city find totally normal it kinda makes me giggle.

Another Domino's Post!

So whenever Mark and I do laundry I always bring a book to read. The problem is I never get any reading done because the laundromat is, like, sensory overload central. There are bright lights, buzzing machines, lots of weird neighborhood people (a sad-looking man doing laundry alone, or someone with massive tons of laundry: where do they keep all those dirty clothes at home?, people doing laundry in their very obvious 'house-clothes' even though you have to actually go out in public to do the laundry, do they fold out of the dryer or just dump in a bag, etc.), and the place is right on Broadway so there are tons of passersbys.

So anyway, we were doing laundry at our preferred laundromat on Broadway and Academy, and as the clothes were washing and drying we sat out on the lawn chairs that had been set out on the sidewalk, because I wanted to get my outdoor-people-watching groove on. After about 50 minutes I recall a white sedan, parked, just off to the right in my viewpoint because I was looking left. I remember hearing a loud thud, or thump. A strange noise. The sound of impact but not a bang.

So many things happened simultaneously because of how quick it all occurred:
I turned my head and saw the white sedan rocking and a bicycle helmet flying to the ground.
I think that the sedan got hit from behind because of the way it's rocking.
I realize the car behind the sedan is parked and has a good amount of space between the bumpers.
The driver of the sedan is half-out of his car and there is a very dazed Domino's guy standing very close next to him.
The girlfriend of the sedan driver is waving napkins to him through the window.

It suddenly becomes very clear that the sedan driver opened his car door at the exact minute the delivery biker was zipping past him and the dreaded car door/biker crash occurred. The sedan driver is walking around to the passenger side of the car asking his girlfriend (in Spanish) for the towel. I need the towel. Right behind him is the biker and his fist is gushing blood. I'm actually shocked by how much it was dripping.

The killer irony of all this is that the delivery guy was just a half-block away from being back at Domino's. I actually walk up to the biker to see if he wants me to go down to Domino's to tell them that he's been hurt and he says no. I see all the blood on the asphalt and, again, I'm shocked at how much blood there is from a probably shattered fist. And the biker looks pretty damned shocked too.

Eventually the cops show up, a big unattractive chick and a very red-skinned, Irish-looking dude who lights up a cigarette as he listens to everyone's story. Super professional, that NYPD.

Apparently there is another car that the biker must've fell into who was standing at the red light. His rear passenger door has been all scratched and dented from the bike and he's sticking around probably to get his fair share of insurance help. Plus Latin people love their cars way too much. He's not going to shrug off a scratch. He's gonna stick around and bitch about it.
As a matter of fact as the biker sits in the recently arrived ambulance and the cops are talking to him the sedan driver and the scratched door driver start to get into it and get yelled at by Smoker Cop. Sadly, they only spoke Spanish and since we all know my parents let me down by not raising a bilingual Jamie, I have no idea if there was blame being laid down or what...sigh.

Anyway, I felt really bad for the biker. I mean, you deliver pizzas by bike in an aggressive-driver city. You probably get paid shit and who knows how many of these ass-wipes who order the pizza are tipping you? One wonders if you have medical insurance, if you can afford any rehab your hand might need and if you'll get your job back once you've healed. Also, since it was only around 1pm he couldn't have been on shift that long so he probably didn't make any money that day.

The only plus to this situation is I now have a new NYC: I Once Saw This Happen story. My dad has a lot of those.