Ready to go home

You're reading the blog of someone who today met, and petted, the world's oldest known alpaca.

I'll be doing interviews upon my return to B-More.

I'm really ready to get home. Today's sessions were much better than yesterday, but I still have made no friends and solitude gets tiring. At least in Baltimore I'm too busy to notice when this happens. Here, I'm far too idle.

I'm also excited about getting in front of my computer and sitting down and writing my syllabus for the new school year. I spent much of today jotting down ideas and sequences. That's definitely a positive of this conference; it's made me excited to prepare for the year. I already have the first month of school written in my head.

In other news, I have to take a dump and the super secret bathroom I found on a winding floor of the castle is all the way at the top of the 157-step hill. My refusal to use the community dorm bathroom here may have to come to an end because I think I might turtlehead by the time I get halfway up there.

Flight leaves tomorrow at 4:02 pm. The shuttle to the airport leaves at 1:30pm tomorrow. It's a two-hour drive. It will be an interesting race to see if I make it. I could pay $50 and take an earlier shuttle, which they say my school will pay back, to which I replied, You do not know my school.

Dab Gone Blog

Just a quick note to say I'll miss this guy. His was the first local blog I read, and still the one I read first every day. There are few writers I know who have as distinctive a voice as he does. As an English teacher, for example, I could easily have my students do a tone analysis through his diction (if it weren't for all the curse words, of course), or look at how theses are developed through evidence, repetition and clinchers. I loved his writing, even about topics I disagreed with, and the comments they generated. The characters he created - Big Gay Boss, Chesty LeBlack, his wife, OSP, his smoky neighbor - leapt off the screen. (Some I wish literally would do this, like Chesty.) I appreciated even things I never heard him mention, just that he did, like the clever never-varying two-word post titles. And his posts, and for that matter, his personal e-mails to me, often made me think, or laugh, or both. I printed out an e-mail he wrote well over a year ago to me about swimming tips that I still have right at my desk; it's my own personal Swimming for Dummies because no one has actually written that book. Lastly, he was the logal blogger I was most nervous about meeting, and he ended up being a pretty decent guy.

His also happened to be - incomprehensibly - the only blog that made it through the blocking software from the school computers, so now I'll have to find other things to do there. Like teach or grade essays or something like that.

I'll stop kissing his ass now. But he'll be missed, and best of luck in the future to him.

Invisible Man

The sessions were terrible today. We did one on teaching poetry and one for teaching drama. All of the activities we did were activities I've done in class, so I learned nothing new. Plus, we spent way too much time on each one. The gist of this guy's presentations is to run it like his own classroom, and make us do activities that he uses with his kids. There's a time and place for that, I suppose, because it's good to see activities modeled. But he's got a roomful of teachers and instead he's running the session like we're in teachers' college. Not once did he ask us what poetry activities we use, or what dramatic activities we use. I feel like there are a wealth of resources around the room and he's not cracking into him, he's just having us do "activities," some of which I'd be embarrassed to have my students do because I don't think they get much out of them.

I do these same sorts of activities, but I do them better. This is making me have raelly high teacher esteem.

There's also the fact that I could have ran today's activities pretty easily. I actually do not have very much ambition with my teaching career - I have no interest in administration, for example. But I think I could see myself teaching teachers at some point. Seeing this guy, I'm pretty sure I could do it now.

He's not bad. He's just not very good.

In proving that I'm invisible to the world, I sat right across from this guy in my session today. There are fifteen people in the session and we've been together for three two-hour plus sessions. There are five males and ten females. I also ate breakfast with him today. Today in our session, I played Flavius to his Cassius in a shortened version of Julius Caesar. I not only know his face, but I know his name.

So I sit next to him for lunch. He looks at me and this other guy and says, "So how is your guys's advanced english session?" (I'm not in advanced english, I'm in english 9 & 10, along with the guy who asked the question.) I didn't think he was talking to me, since I had just gotten done with the session, so I left the guy I was sitting next to to answer the question. A few minutes later, he turned to me, and said, "So, how is the session going in English A1?"

I looked at him with a look of incredulity, and said, "Dude. I'm in the same session as you. I acted out Caesar with you today."

Six hours of sessions together over the course of two days, eating breakfast with him, sharing a scene in a Shakespeare play, and he doesn't recognize me twenty minutes later.

He tried to laugh it off and say that this shows how much he was paying attention, but the damage was done. I'm an unmemorable, borderline invisible person.

Off to Santa Fe for the afternoon. Hopefully that interaction at lunch will be the lowpoint of the day.

Life is short, don't be scared

Whenever I'm feeling like I did last night, I should remember these words:

"When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: 'If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.' It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

This was swiped from Andrew Sullivan's site from Steve Jobs's commencement speech. I found it very moving.

I discovered the campus gym yesterday and had a great workout. It was completely empty but unlocked, so I just blasted the radio and sweated out my frustrations. I'm going to Santa Fe this afternoon, but not before doing shit like performing a poem (with chants and movements) in my session. Ugh.

Social incompetency

The nights here are slow. I've learned a couple people's names at the conference, but none enough where I know where they are right now or what they're doing. I'm sitting alone again, waiting to get tired enough to go to sleep. I feel like I've been sent away to summer camp and blogging is my homesick letters to the parents. Truth be told, I even just blogged a bit on the message board of my fantasy baseball league.

The fact of the matter is that in many situations I'm a socially incompetetent person. Talking to women I'm interested in and large group interactions are two of those things. I'm not scared of big groups of people, but I hate that feeling of being alone and feeling out of place. And, the thing is, all I need is one liferaft, just one person to talk to. Then I do fine. I just started a new softball league, and knew only one other person. And that was fine, fun even. That friendship with that one other person makes me more comfortable around the whole group. But here, it's no one, save for the guy I shared a bus seat with on the two hour drive over, and he's nowhere to be found.

There are times when I've thought I've been really brave and confident socially. I moved to a new city without knowing anyone, 700 miles from home. I go to the movies alone sometimes. On occasion, I will go to a bar alone (although I need to have the City Paper there to read so it looks like I have important things to do) if I'm meeting people later. But being alone in a large group of people sucks; I believe there to be a spotlight on me highlighting my every move.

I did walk down to the little social event down on the field. I walked through it, glancing for one of the scant familiar faces I might recognize. I recognized no one, so I kept on walking through, acting as if I had somewhere to go just past the event. Plus, they had beer in cans there. Didn't they get my memo about my drinking beer rules? There are three:

1. No Budweiser or Bud Light unless I don't know what it is.
2. No cans.
3. Avoid bottles unless you can pour them into a glass or plastic cup and pretend they came from a tap.

There's just something about the preservative taste of bottled beer and cans that I don't care for. I also don't like the taste of metal with beer. I like it with pop, though, go figure.

So I wasn't going to violate one of my rules, nor do I particularly feel like drinking. I went for a run instead, and now I'm back, and now I'm thinking about going to the gym and getting on a machine and reading.

I've done okay in the sessions and lunches. I get some street cred because I teach in Baltimore City, and most of these folks here are coming from wealthy school districts with kids with silver spoons in their mouths. There seemed to be a good guy who teaches in LA in a similar situation as me, and he was good to talk to in the cafeteria. Other people look at me with bemusement.

Another positive is I feel like I'm getting things from the sessions, even if they are long. I even raised my hand and asked a question today - that was big news. You may see the headlines tomorrow.

On the plus side, it's still beautiful here. There are natural springs around that I ran to today and looked at, and the views are spectacular. The things I've always heard about a "dry heat" are true - it's pleasantly warm, I'm not sweating much, and the shortness of breath only happens when I sprint up the 107 stairs to the castle.

Tomorrow I'm going to Santa Fe. A city to explore sounds fun and I think my social incompetency will be masked especially if someone is forced to talk to me because they have to sit next to me on the bus. I actually can talk to people about things, especially when it's about things I know about (baseball, teaching 9th graders, lesbian folk singers, Michigan, Baltimore, movies, most music - I'm not a boring person), so all I need is an "in." Sure, I usually run out of things to say, but at least there's a start to something there.

To make things worse, my cell phone has no signal, and I can't call anyone nor check my messages because god knows where there's a landline around this desolate place.

Notes from New Mexico, Part II

I am wondering if the shortness of breath I have after climbing the stairs (107 of them) here is because of the altitude or because I'm not quite as in good of shape as I think I am.

Today I'm going to an alpaca farm in addition to my sessions on teaching Honors (Pre-IB) 9th grade English.

Feeling much better after eight and a half hours of sleep yesterday. I sat alone in the cafeteria and someone actually joined me, and before I knew it there were six people there. I haven't learned one fellow English teacher's name, but I know a helluva lot of Chemistry teachers. Must be my two years as a Chemistry major bleeding through a bit.

It's really peaceful here.

college again?

I ate tonight in a cafeteria for the first time in a long time. This particular cafeteria reminded me of the dorm cafeteria in Holmes Hall, where I roomed my freshmen and sophomore years of college. I was pleased with my handling of the all-you-can-eat, decent food - no huge portions, no dessert, drank water and diet coke. That was a sign to me that I've grown in ten years.

However, the rest of the evening has been a showcase for the part that hasn't grown. Throw me in a group of new people where I know no one and I'll be anti-social. It started with figuring out where to sit in the cafeteria. I had befriended a guy on the bus ride over, but he was nowhere to be found, so I sat next to my roommate, who was with a bunch of other guys. I sit down, and it's fine at first, even though they're all chemistry teachers. Then, though, they start talking about things that I can't contribute to, so I just eat my dinner in near silence. I try talking to the guy next to me, and that works for a while, and then I run out of things to say.

Afterwards, there's a beer and wine social in a very crowded deck area. There are few things I want less right now than alcohol. Sometimes it can be a social lubricant for me, but I'm exhausted and smelly and just want to be alone. So I go back to my room, grab my book, and walk around the (admittedly beautiful) campus. I sit on a rock by a river and read. Then I get chewed up by mosquitos so I go in. I've sat in my dorm room much of the evening, reading. Now I'm back on the internet.

The MSU Vet Med Center had a herd of organ donor dogs - kept around just to farm out their organs - and you could check them out with your student ID just like books from a library. I'd check them out all the time in my first week in college. I missed my dog, and was relentlessly lonely, and that's what I'd do right now, too, if I could. Speaking of which, I do miss Holden.

This passed after a couple days in college. Hopefully it does here as well. First class is tomorrow at 8 o'clock. I'm running on about empty and should probably just go to sleep. I woke up at 5am, and translated to this time zone, that's 3am, and it's now 9:41 here. Yawn. Maybe that's why I'm whiny.

I'm getting excited about this wedding date on Saturday, though. I've been thinking about it a lot so I will probably be writing about it later as I try to come up with a plan to navigate the distance between being a friend to being more than a friend. I was very encouraged by the hesitation-free agreement to go, as well as the little hookup I had a couple weekends ago when I got called a "hottie." It's all about confidence. Maybe I have a shred or two somewhere in there. Although tonight has not been a showcase for it.

Notes from New Mexico

Made it to BWI in time for my eight o'clock flight, did the layover in Atlanta, took the three hour flight from Atlanta to Albuquerque, watched Hitch again and desperately tried to get into Edwidge Dandicat's The Farming of Bones, and took the two hour bus ride from Albuquerque to Montezuma. I'm staying in a castle that doubles as a prep school during the school year.

I'm exhausted and have to stay in a dorm room with two other guys, but otherwise things are good. The place is beautiful, and it looks like my days will be pretty full of training, plus some opportunities for afternoon trips to Santa Fe and Taos.

Things seem to different here, so far. The landing in Albuquerque, with its miles of brown desert broken up by random splotches of green foliage, was pretty amazing. The rocky, brown terrain is unlike any I've seen before. This is my first trip west of Chicago and I'm disappointed I didn't do one of those post-college road trips around the country that I've heard others enjoy.

Getting away and being less stressed than I was going to a wedding is good. I hope the trainers are good and that this trip will be a good use of your tax dollars. (Actually, I think the money for this training comes from some sort of special grant, but I'm not sure. I've already shelled out a couple hundred for the trip anyway.)

Date

I have a date for Zack's wedding! I have a date for Zack's wedding!

I called her, and she said yes, and didn't even hesitate. Woo-hoo!

Restaurant night went well, we were steady, and afterwards took Zack out for a drink at Full Moon Cafe and then at Lulu's. Well, he made me come. The man is getting married in six days.

I'm flying out at 6:20 am if all goes well. Am unsure of my internet access while in Montezuma, NM. Will post if I can and I feel like it.

Priceline

Remind me never, ever to use Priceline again. And you shouldn't either. What a horrific bitch I just talked with on the phone. I hate it when I feel like I'm talking with someone with a list of stock phrases to say if someone is upset. Someone gives you a long sob story? Say this. Someone says he is never going to use Priceline again, as well as tell all his friends? Say this. God, I hate that. She was inhuman.

Delta seems to be helpful, though. I have to call tonight at 3:20am to see if I can get on the 6:20am flight and make it to Albuquerque on time. I was all set to buy a new plane ticket this afternoon, one way, because that cost would be about the same cost as the rental car I would have to get if I were going to fly in at midnight like originally planned. Me, driving alone in the desert at midnight to a place I don't know and can't find directions to? Probably not a good idea. I still get lost going to White Marsh sometimes.

One last thing - as annoying as the Red Sox and all their fans are, at least I'm not friends with any White Sox fans. I can't stand their Posednik powered offense, their idiotic manager or general manager - neither of whom I could stand as players, either - and the fact that they're playing way over their heads and beating up on bad teams like the Royals makes me hold them to even more disdain. I can't wait until they fall to third place.

Gourmet magazine

Everyone at the restaurant is excited because Gourmet magazine is doing some feature on our place and apparently they will be reviewing us soon. Therefore, every table that comes in, I'm wondering if it's it. I know I complain a lot about my second job and the bad <=15% tippers and all, but I really do like the restaurant where I work, like the owners, like the food. It's a small family owned restaurant with just a small staff; the chef is brilliant and the place is full of characters (like Dmitrov, who writes his autobiography for new servers, and Leroy, who is the patron saint of Fell's Point). It's also the type of place where you can really talk to your tables and get to know them, which is probably what I find most interesting. I think my affinity for the place I work shows in my service; I'm an excellent waiter, even if I do say so myself. I'm considered one of the three strong servers we have at the restaurant, which admittedly only has about nine. I'm not the best employee in the world - I come five or ten minutes late to my shifts sometimes, my apron is sometimes dirty - but I'm a damn good server.

Last night, there was a table I was pretty sure was the reviewers. They were a slightly dorky 40-ish couple who said they were from Toronto, visiting for the weekend. I wasn't thinking of them being the reviewers for the first half of their meal, but then I looked over and saw the woman taking notes. Shit, I thought, I wonder if it might be them. I had a good vibe with them already, so I wasn't worried about that. I was talking up Fell's Point a bit, telling them that if they like history, it's the best place to be in Baltimore. I pointed in the direction of the bar where Billie Holiday used to sing, pointed in the direction of Frederick Douglass's house (and the woman didn't know who he is, which is the perfect time to slip in that I'm a teacher and that he was an American slave who wrote a couple of books and we teach his books in our schools), and told them about a few of the former brothels and ghost sightings in the area. It was going well, and then the subject came on to weather. They knew I was from Michigan, and since they said they were from Canada, we were comparing the weather, how the winters are less severe here. Then, the guy said somethign that I totally could not hear; the music was too loud and I asked him to repeat it once and still couldn't hear. So I just grinned and nodded. Then I told them that my mother had told me it was 97 in Michigan today, and since it was just 94 in Baltimore, that shows that the summers aren't that different.

Well, my comment was apparently totally off-base from what he had just said, and both at the table cracked up and said, "You didn't hear me, did you?" and I had to admit I didn't. They then said never mind and I was embarrassed. I was also a little worried because we had a table of four people around the age of 25 sitting right next to them, and they were very, very loud, to the point where another table of mine asked to move to a different section.

I later figured out that it probably wasn't the reviewers, because I did a really nice dessert presentation and said we were known for our desserts, and they didn't get one. I figure if someone is reviewing the place, they're going to get all the courses. Plus, they really were from Canada, as their credit card showed. And I think she was taking notes because she was writing down the name of the beer; she must have been a notetaker in general, because she asked me Frederick Douglass's name and the title of his books before she left, and wrote it down.

Even if it was, I think they liked me, as evidenced by their 25% tip and the thanks for excellent service comment in the guestbook.

I had a lot of great tables last night. Even though a couple of them stiffed me, they were all nice talking to, and many remembered my name, which I think is a good sign.

I'm always worried, because if you go to the aol city guide page for our restaurant, next to all the accolades and "Best Brunch" awards, there's one review from Feb of 2004 that reads, I am not new to this restaurant, but I had a new experience there this weekend. Food was delicious! However, there were many negative aspects to my experience. Called for reservations and asked for a table for 2 near the live music. We sat upstairs...didn't even hear the music over the loud conversation of the large 12 top behind us. Everytime the waiter walked up the steps, the floor shook, moving the beverages across the table. The waiter was sweating to the point, that we were wondering if the soup had a "special addition"...if you know what I mean. The service was horrible. We waited 20 minutes just for our first drink and the wine glass left much to be desired...come on...you could have put a little more in the glass....tryin' to make a buck are ya?? When the meals came, no one checked back with us to see if we needed anything..."uh, how 'bout the beer I ordered with my appetizer about 20 minutes ago???" I am sorry, if I am paying good money for a meal out with my special someone(which we do often), I want attention, timeliness and my glass full at all times. I don't think we will be back very soon. -oh and, could you purchase your silverware somewhere other than the dollar store. Sorry, not a pick for me anytime soon. I hope that I hear it has changed, because the cuisine was wonderful...but all the negative things outway the good meal. I give 1 star for the food....

Now, most of that - the not checking back, the long wait for drinks - doesn't sound like me. But the fact that they said "waiter" instead of "waitress" doesn't leave many choices. And I do sweat when I work. There were a couple other male possibilities at that time, and I'm hoping it's them, but it's a longstanding joke as to who the sweaty server might have been. Last night, the owner messed with me by handing me a napkin to wipe my brow before I went and talked to the possible review table.

Geez, sorry if I work hard and sweat a bit.

Overall, though, it was a good night. I made around $100, even though it was real slow for a Saturday night. Zack is getting married in a week so he was primed and ready to do some drinking after our shift ended at one o'clock. I didn't really want to, but I went to the bar down the street where the Polish girl bartends, and had a Coor's Light. Afterwards, he and this other guy invited me back to watch Anchorman and "read children's literature," which is the code work for getting baked. I did not, although I was tempted. Then I remembered that I'm a teacher and 27 years old. We'll see if I remember tonight, when I also work with him.

Today is the day of my long run and I'm just stalling at the moment. I better get on that.

Federal Friday

Yesterday was a great day; I worked out hard in the morning, accomplished a lot through the afternoon, and played pretty hard at night. After I mowed the lawn and decided I didn't have enough time to do laundry, I figured I'd just drive down to Federal Hill so I could combat one of Federal Hill's biggest downfalls - parking - and get a good spot at Thirsty Dog. I arrive a little after four, and Thirsty Dog (incomprehensibly) does not open until 5, so I found myself at No Way Jose Cafe. The bar only had one person in it - an older woman - and the bartender. I grabbed a copy of the City Paper and ordered a $1 Miller Lite. Miller Lite is easily my favorite cheap beer, and it was a little warm and a little flat. In other words, perfect... the kind of beer that goes down very easily in the summer. I had two beers there before Thirsty Dog opened.

Renee, the girl I love who is unfortunately with this old tool right now and it's completely my fault because I totally could have had her in the last few years, joined me there. We shared pizza and hearts afire palm salad and blueberry beer and it was a great time.

Eventually, it was off to LP Steamers for my department's end-of-school-year celebration. We hung out there on the deck for a couple hours before getting kicked out (no beer after 9:30 at LP's), where we meandered to a hole-in-the-wall called The French Connection. There, we attacked the jukebox and talked and laughed.

Life is good. I've already done my mammoth laundry load this morning and am on the way to the gym, where I think I'm going to swim if it's not full of kids.

Softball, LP Steamers, Marathons

At my softball game last night, I hit a home run. I'm not a bad hitter, but I don't remember hitting a home run before. Ever. It was pretty cool. It was even a clean one. The Herring Run league was much better than the Baltimore Sports and Social Club leagues, mainly because there was no time limit to the game; we got to play the full seven innings. I knew only a couple of people, but it was still fun. The only downfall is I had a groundball hit to me at third base. I dove and opened the scab on my knee, and blood was running down my leg. I was asked to leave the field and bandage it up. It was a big scene and someone had to run to their car for a first aid kit, for a little scab.

So I'm now on Day 2 of my marathon training schedule that I copied from here. I've run my three miles today, so I'm little off on the days, but I'll do my long run on Sunday and try to match up to the days next week. I'm three weeks behind in the 18-week program, as the marathon is in 15 weeks, but I'm at least started. I'm still not sure if I'm going to do it or not (maybe a half-marathon is a better place to start), but this is the closest I've come to throwing myself into it since I sprained my ankle while training for it three years ago. If nothing else, I'm feeling damn good right now, and, even if I decide not to go through with it, at least starting it is something.

Tonight, colleagues and I are meeting at LP Steamers to celebrate the end of the school year. We've had a bunch of parties like this recently, but most of them have been focused on the goodbyes. This, I think, will be a focus on the fact that we've got two months off, more a celebratory proclamation of our vacation than a melancholy adieu to friends and colleagues.

I don't like to eat crabs (I can do crab dip, but cracking open crabs for their meat is too much work for not enough profit, plus my almost-vegetarian mind just finds it a bit revolting), so I'm heading to Thirsty Dog Pub for pizza and blueberry (and blonde, and brown, and red) beer beforehand. I think I'll be able to get someone to go with me; otherwise, it's just me and the beautiful waitresses there.

Today, it's a laundry and lawnmowing day. The workout is out of the way and now it's all errands I have to complete before the big International Baccalaureate training trip next week.

Michelle Shocked

I finally picked up this week's issue of City Paper, and who is on the front cover, mocking me? Michelle Shocked. She's playing at Ram's Head Baltimore on Tuesday, and I've been looking forward to it for months, but, alas, I cannot make it.

I've been a fan of Shocked's since around 1996, but have never seen her live. I've heard her live shows are Springsteen-esque in their intensity, but also a lot of fun - apparently she lets audience members come up who know her songs, and does things like karaoke. I actually don't know her music that well anymore, but I have a lot of respect for her as an artist - the passionate, almost crazed political stances and causes, her stubborn switching of genres in the face of record label pressure. And even though I don't know her music that well anymore, I think I'd get my price of admission just by hearing her play two of the greatest songs written, ever - "Anchorage" and "Come a Long Way." Both were minor hits (I've heard them both on WTMD this year), and both are songs where every lyric, every note is perfect. Her craggy, unadorned vocals probably sound impressive live.

Unfortunately, I'll be in Albuquerque. And I've really screwed myself over with it, too. Here's the blow by blow:

1. I'm told in December that I have an opportunity to go on a trip to New Mexico this summer from July 12 - July 15.

2. I make arrangements to see a friend and drive up to Colorado to visit another friend in his summer home in the Aspen mountains. I get really excited.

3. The first week of June, I'm told that the training was filled up and I can't go and have to choose a new date. The reason, I'm told, is that "North Avenue" screwed it up. I don't believe it for a second; I think it's the person who is giving me that excuse, but it doesn't really matter because there's nothing I can do about it. I disappointingly give the friend out west the bad news that I can no longer go on the drive up to the summer house.

4. I'm told I have to buy my own plane tickets but I'll be reimbursed. I wait and wait for confirmation that I'm going on the trip on July 28. I finally get it on Wednesday, June 15. I have to buy plane tickets, but can't afford to until payday on Friday, June 17. On Thursday, June 16, there was a deal to buy tickets to Michigan, to Albuquerque, and back to Baltimore for $594. The moment I get paid on Friday June 17, I look again for that ticket package, and it's now $816 - out of my price range.

5. I rush through and get a deal for $405 to Albuquerque. I'm being reimbursed $355 for the flight so I figure that's okay. However, I get it through Priceline, and I screw up and part of the deal is they get to pick the times. Unfortunately, I have to make it to the airport by 4pm to catch the shuttle for the two hour drive to the training facility. My ticket has me set to arrive at midnight. I try to change it, both through Priceline and through Delta, and I cannot. I now have to rent a car, which is $204 for the week. Now, my trip is costing me $605 in transportation alone and I'm just getting $355 back. I'm being screwed out of $250. This sucks, sucks, sucks. By the way, does anyone have any experience with cancelling a Priceline order? That seems to be my only option. They told me yesterday I cannot, though.

First day of summer vacation

Great day so far today on my first official day of summer vacation. I intentionally didn't move my car last night to motivate myself to be up by 7:30. From there, I went to the gym, where I worked out arms, shoulders, and abs, then ran three miles. Then, I worked a 10-5 shift at the restaurant. I never work weekday afternoons there, because obviously I'm teaching, but I enjoyed it: it was nice and slow to the point where it was relaxing, but not so desolate where I didn't make anything. Tips tallied up to $35 off a nice little 4-table lunch pop, and had some really friendly people at the tables that I spoke with quite a bit. Then, everyone cleared out and I read 100 pages of the book I'm currently reading, Three Days in August, a book chronicling almost every moment of a three game series between the Cubs and the Cardinals through the eyes of Tony LaRussa. I don't remember the last time I was able to sit and read 100 pages consecutively; it was great. The book's a real page turner, too. I hope to burn through books this summer like bullets through butter.

Also, because I worked out before I went, I was not tempted to eat unhealthily while there - no pierogies, no dutch apple cake with cream cheese frosting homemade by the owner's mother, no chocolate milk with chocolate chip cookie torani syrup. I had an energy bar, a free salad for lunch, and later some almonds.

Tonight I'm playing softball on the Herring Run League I was just invited to play. Since I missed my team's game this week and will miss next week's game, I'm very excited. I'll pretend my legs aren't sore and run over there in a second.

Summer goals

1. Go to the dentist. It's been four years, and with no school or time constraints there's no excuse why I can't figure out my insurance. Otherwise I'll wait until I have to have a root canal or something.

2. Go to the doctor. I think it's time I have a full checkup. I haven't had my cholesterol checked since I was 300 pounds.

3. Read Don Quixote. I'll read more, but that's the primary reading goal. I'm actually racing a friend through it starting July 3. I also really need to reread Go Tell It On the Mountain.

4. Get that tattoo I've been wanting for years. I figure that if I wait until I'm 28, it will be just some sort of desperate attempt to cling to my youth. At 27, it's simply , um, a guy doing what he wants. Uh, why is it again I want a tattoo? Actually, I want to because it's just one of those things I want to do before I die. When I do die, I plan on donating my body to science, and my little sister - who is studying on cadavers - says that the bodies with the tattoos are most memorable, the ones where she most thinks about them as people rather than bodies. Makes sense to me.

5. Don't run out of money. I go two months without a paycheck, but I get a little better every year preparing for this time of being broke.

6. Watch more movies and TV. I just really miss watching movies, and do it so rarely. I want to go to the movies and rent movies. I sort of was inspired today when I heard a commercial on the radio for Coach Carter. It wasn't well-reviewed and I don't think it will be a great movie, but it's about coaching and teaching and inner city kids, so I'll probably love it. I'll probably even cry. But I don't think I should buy a movie like this, just rent it. Since it's a real pain to rent movies in Baltimore, I might as well do Netflix. Plus, since I can't sit still when I watch, I tend to do situps or jump on the trampouline or other physical stuff, which is much healtheir than sitting around I do when I'm at the computer. I think I'm going to cave and get Netflix. For $15 a month, it doesn't seem like it can be beat.

7. Pass that Towson class.

8. Figure out when I'm going to Michigan.

9. Figure out how I'm going to respond to this e-mail from Neil: I just wanted to send you a quick note and see if I can convince you
to run with me in the Baltimore marathon (October 15). I've built up
a base training scheme and I'm only just beginning to stretch my
longer runs to aroud 8 miles. It would be so much fun to run with
you.. Neil lives in NYC and I rarely see him, and I happen to respect him a great deal. I've been wanting to run the marathon for years, and have been running a lot lately. Is this the motivation I need to move it from a simple running-to-get-in-shape to full throttle marathon training? We shall see. I think next week's trip to Albuquerque, and how well I deal with running during it, will lead to the decision. If I do it, it won't be half-assed.

10. Organize my room, cds and books especially.

The school year is now officially over

I am now officially done with my fourth year of teaching. After we had all finished checking out and cleaning classrooms, Rose ran out to get everyone the quintessential Baltmore lunch - a chicken box - since my friend, leaving for St. Paul tomorrow, had never had one in his three years in the city. It was actually my first, too, but I didn't really have a chicken box (the whole almost-vegetarian or "pescetarian" thing prevents that), but did have a greasy fried fish sandwich (a "cheese fish") with fries and a half and half.

Most of the time, I really hate having the summers off as a teacher, mainly because we have a ten-month contract and cannot get a twelve-month one, so I'm always broke in July and August. But today I feel relaxed and happy, and it's unbelievably envigorating to think that I won't be teaching for another two months and two days. The kids will all be new, the principal will be new, and we'll do it all over again. I really like this job.

Cream Soda

Trader Joe's sells this Diet Cream Soda, something I never noticed there until last week. It is amazing. I haven't had cream soda in years and years, but this diet stuff tastes just like it, and brings me right back to the kitchen table at my grandma and grandpa's place in Redford, MI. That kitchen table now sits upstairs in the roommate's kitchen, as I reminded tonight when I fed her cat. Grandpa died in 1990, and Grandma hasn't hit 80 yet but Alzheimer's has pretty much taken her away already. But what a cool life they led. Grandpa, who was Polish and fighting for the allies, was captured by Hitler's forces and placed in a concentration camp as a POW late in the war. Upon release, he met a young German war widow with a son. He was 36; she was 21. They immigrated to the US in 1950, settling in a predominantly Polish neighborhood in Detroit. He worked for years and years as a barber, and she as a hairdresser, all the while raising three sons. They were married 41 years when Grandpa, a man who always had a warm smile on his face, died of a stroke.

I remember the moment when we found out he had the stroke and there was no coming back from it. Grandpa had been sick in the past - a quadruple bipass surgery, prostrate surgery - but when I saw my dad come home from work and start talking to mom, I could tell something was different. It seemed hopeless. I remember him shaking his head and closing his eyes. Heidi, my little sister, and I ran to our rooms and made cards for Grandpa, scribbling furiously so we'd get done before Dad had to drive the three hours to Detroit. We gave the cards to dad to give Grandpa, and he again closed his eyes, and nodded his head, and he was off. I sort of sensed that Grandpa would never see our cards, but it was our therapy. Mom took the two of us to Detroit the next morning.

We got to the hospital, and I remember my dad coming out of the room, and, before he even hugged my mom, he shook his head with his eyes closed. I saw them embrace, and saw my dad's shoulder shudder for the first time in my life. I turned away. We spent the day in the hospital as Grandpa lingered, and finally Mom took us back to Grandma and Grandpa's house to wait. He always had cream soda in the basement icebox that was next to his barber's chair. It was in the old-fashioned bottles, and we drink them upstairs at the aforementioned table, listening to the clink of the glass bottles on the metal surface. My 13-year old mind could not comprehend his impending death. When the other grandma - mom's mom - called the house, I gave her such scientific like details ("Apparently, Grandma, the oxygen cut off from his brain, and he has no activity there any more, so right now it's a waiting game and it doesn't look like he'll wake up") that it must have seemed like I didn't even care; I remember grandma starting to cry (something else I'd never heard before) on the other end and quickly hanging up.

Grandpa hung around for a few days before dying. I eventually mourned like most normal thirteen-year olds would mourn, I think. I eventually cried, the funeral was horribly sad, and I miss my Grandpa. But I also know he lived a cool life and I'm lucky to have been able to be close to him in my early adolescence.

I think I'll buy this cream soda more often.

Goodbyes

There is officially one day left in my fourth day of teaching. I have a five-minute meeting with my principal who barely knows me tomorrow to discuss my evaluation, and have a few hours' worth of work to complete in packing away my classroom, and then I'll be done.

This is always a melancholy time of year. People leave every year, and this year is no different. We're losing my supervisor, who admirably took on the task of department head after our last one left and left a gaping hole. I'll really miss the guy. I learned a lot from him about being a teacher. He seemed to be tough and standoffish at first, and the first is true, but it was a sincere pleasure to hear him speak to a student. There was this sense of firmness and love there that I strive to have in my conversations with kids. There was no way out for the kids, but it was also very clear that he cared about them and the expectations would be met. He's the sort of teacher that I hope to be some day.

He always pushed me, too, trying to get me to do National Board, and I appreciate that about him. I was asked to give a speech yesterday about him at the end-of-year faculty meeting, and I outlined most of those points. I was nervous, and kicked myself afterwards for what I had forgotten, but today he had written a nice long letter to me thanking me for it. A colleague also came up to me and said it was a very sincere speech and that I should think about going into public speaking because it came across as very eloquent and honest. It felt good that she said that. I really have to do a better job of complimenting people like she does.

Anyhow, he's moving to St. Paul, and I'll miss the baseball conversations and Orioles games. I got him a Minnesota Twins tie I'll give him tomorrow.

We're also losing the Jizzle. She came in a year after I did, and it was very clear early on that she was one of the most intelligent and witty people I've ever met. An amazing teacher, she always seems to have the right phrase, the right thing to say. Her storytelling is masterful, and she's one of the funniest people I've ever met. The Jizzle is not moving from the area, or moving far from the field of education; she begins library science school in the fall. Unfortunately, she's a good example of someone who is chased from the profession because of fairly ridiculous state standards that teachers are asked to meet. Even though she has a graduate degree and is a natural at teaching, she could not pursue her teaching credentials this year because of the insane student load we were given this year. So she's doing something else she'll love. Boo to the shitty A/B-6 schedule.

It's going to hurt our department to lose these two amazing teachers, but it's something we have to deal with every year. I wonder if I'll ever leave?

Long day

The school year is winding down, and I had a pretty good day today. I had about eight kids in my room, helping me clean out my classroom. That's the blessing and the curse with being a pretty nice teacher; the end of the year still sees your room pretty full of kids. I actually invited a few kids to come. For example, this girl Donna. She got a 59 in the first semester, struggling like many 9th graders do to start high school. But in the third quarter, she earned a 74. In the 4th quarter, she earned an 80. She got an 82 on the final exam. Still, her overall average would be a 68 or a 69 if I kept those numbers - a failure for the course and a $150 summer school course. I knew in my heart that I could not fail her, since she had clearly acquired by the end of the year the skills she needed to pass English I, but asked her to come in for a couple days this week to do some extra work, and I would bump her fourth quarter grade up a couple of points. She spent all morning in my classroom, cleaning up and adding scores, and will come in again tomorrow. She's not the only one in this boat, so I had a handful of kids helping out.

There was a retirement and goodbye reception at one o'clock at Bay Cafe, and I was asked to give a speech for my departing friend/supervisor. The woman called and asked me at around 11, so I didn't have much time, but I think it went fine despite the fact that this usually is not my thing. I will really, really miss this guy. After the reception, I went to the Ralph Marlin tie store in Harborplace to buy him a Minnesota Twins tie for the place to which he's moving.

I ahd a softball game tonight, but at the last minute was called into work at the restaurant. I was pissed off about it, but they just missed my request for tonight off, and it ended up not being a bad night. Zack and I worked, and sampled plenty of wine during the slow ($40) shift before heading over to Hail Mary's (a new Fell's Point bar at Washington and Fleet) after work.

Zack made fun of me because I revealed that I hadn't gotten a date for his wedding yet on July 2. I had put down that I was bringing a guest, and apparently this isn't something you're supposed to do until you actually have a date. Oops. Maybe a date will just fall in my lap sometime before then. I hope so, at least. It should be a very cool wedding, complete with a Frank Sinatra impersonator, a Jimmy Buffett impersonator, and an NBA Star/future brother in law who will be there. Should be fun.

CFUGs and weddings in Maine

This weekend I attended the wedding of John and Danielle. I've known Danielle since I was 14, she's a fellow cop's kid in smalltown southwest Michigan, and we bonded in our years in high school writing for our vaguely anarchic student newspaper. Later, we have solidified our friendship here in the Baltimore/DC area. She met John, a real good guy, a few years ago, and I count both of them as good friends - and Danielle's my oldest friend. Damn right I was going to this wedding even though it cost a pretty penny.

There's a neat freedom that comes from traveling alone. Perspective is gained from the unencumbered adventure of the journey. However, traveling by myself sometimes leads to way too much self-reflection and doubts, and, that, coupled with the usual god-I'm-lonely-and-am-27-and-when-the-hell-is-this-going-to-happen-for-me thoughts that I have whenever I attend a wedding, made me sad at times. I knew only a couple people there, and my excitement over the possibility of seeing Annie for the first time in years, or Dave for the first time since he moved to Sweden, were all for naught... neither could make it. I knew almost no one there, and I sometimes felt like my solititude stuck out in neon lights. I didn't like the glare all the time, and even slipped out of the rehearsal dinner post-party and no one noticed. This weird paradox of feeling like I'm invisible versus feeling like everyone is staring at me and feeling sorry for me because I'm alone and quiet isn't a fun way to spend an evening. This is why I don't like parties unless I know people there.

Day two was the day of the wedding, and that was much better. The ceremony was a good one, a complete reflection of the bride and groom, with some good music (Ben Harper, Dar Williams, John Legend) and poetry (Nikki Giovanni, May Swenson). The weather was rainy all morning, as well as all evening, but cleared up to the point of blazing sun for the wedding ceremony - it couldn't have been planned better. Earlier in the day, I agreed to drive to Portland (an hour away) to pick up a guy from DC who I had never met before, a friend of Danielle's. We had decided to share a hotel room and rental car cost and that worked out pretty well. He was a good guy, a gay guy with a pretty good sense of humor about things. When "We Are Family" was played at the wedding, he came up to me and said, "I know I'm supposed to love this song, because I'm a fag and all, but I hate it." It was definitely good to have a gay guy help take care of my appearance. He showed me how to use a steamer to iron my shirt and told me about the dog hair on my suit. My own personal queer eye. He was in a similar spot to me in not knowing many people, but he knew more than me, plus he danced and I really don't. I spent a lot of time watching the dance floor and taking advantage of the open bar.

After the wedding and reception, though, is when things got good. We were invited out to the cabin, a place deep in the Maine wilderness. There, we played euchre and drank more. It reminded me of a high school party, in that it was deep in the woods, even though I never touched alcohol until I was a couple of years out of high school.

The highlight of the evening was making out with this cool crazy black chick named Teresa, a bridesmaid at the wedding. She was the clear charismatic center of the party, or at least the euchre room, and I wanted her from the moment we walked in - she was funny, pop-culture savvy, smart, and, wow, had a nice set, which she flaunted everywhere, telling people that no one had earned the right to look at her rack just yet. She then looked at me, said I was a hottie (my first time being called that, ever, I think, and it confirmed my suspicions that I look damn good in my suit) and did her best to make me squirm, which she did a great deal. When I said I liked Ella Fitzgerald, she said, "You really are doing your best to get yourself laid tonight, aren't you?" and stuck her tongue in my mouth. She was fun, and to be honest we probably would have done it if there was an open room because that is not something I had qualms about last night, but there wasn't so it was just second base for me. But that's not bad. I found out later that had made out with a 15-year old boy earlier in the day, and was defending it, saying she had made that boy's adolescence. I think she really was crazy, not only in the fun crazy way, but really crazy. My aforementioned hotelmate for the night, who knew her from college, later told me this. As Danielle would say, she's probably the cute fucked up girl (CFUG) type that I'm drawn to like a moth to a flame, similar to the CFUG Polish girl at the restaurant. Anyhow, Teresa took my e-mail address in between bouts of groping but I doubt I'll hear from her ever again, and besides, she lives in Indianapolis.

Today was a decent day. The trip from the tiny Maine town to the airport in Portland is about an hour, and full of tiny seafood restaurants and diners. We stopped at one diner, and then its kitchen caught on fire so we had to go to the next one. We eventually found our breakfast, and made it to the airport at 12:25 for our 12:45 flight. Miraculously, we made it on the plane, and I'm now back home, ready to relax with The Simpsons and my weight set.

Three more days of school, all without students. My two months of unpaid vacation are almost here.

Flight Annoyances

Yesterday, I thought I could do this nifty multiple flight destination so I could travel from Baltimore to South Haven for my tenth year high school reunion, then to my training in Albuquerque on June 27-July 1, then back to Baltimore for Zack's wedding on July 2. Yesterday, that said flight pattern was $594. The school/city/foundations are reimbursing me $355 for my flight to Albuquerque, so the cost out of pocket for me wouldn't be that bad. Unfortunately, I had no money yesterday.

Today, I got paid, so sat down at the computer this morning to purchase the ticket. That same ticket is now $811. Shit.

I fiddled around a long time with a number of different websites, and nothing was better. Then, I decided to just buy the Albuquerque-Baltimore ticket, which is a requirement that I just found out about a couple of weeks ago so just now have I been able to afford it. The round trip ticket was $590. Since I'm only getting $355 back, and it's the summer and my last paycheck comes on July 1, I thought about cancelling the trip altogether. The way information has been passed on to me has been very disorganized, and I blame them for my increased ticket, and I was just going to cancel, even though I really want to go to the training.

But I decided to bid on priceline. I didn't find one for $355, but found one for $401. That's not too bad - only $50 out of my pocket. The problem is, with Priceline, you cannot name your time, and now I'm going to be flying into Albuquerque at 11pm. The training facility is two hours from the airport, and there is a free shuttle at 2pm and 4pm. I'll miss both of those, obviously, so now I'll probably have to rent a car and spend just as much as I would have anyway. That sucks, sucks, sucks.

However, I'm hoping that I might be able to camp myself in front of Delta Airlines from the morning on and beg for an earlier flight all day. We'll see if that works. I've never done this before - does anyone have experience? I have to call Erin.

Today I fly for the first time since my eyes bled in my flight home from Florida in March. The doctor informs me that it was just a coincidence that it happened on the flight, except that dehydration might have made it worse. I hope so. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous. I've read about people who have gone on airplanes and come off of them blind because of the pressure. They're people without a scleral buckle holding their eyeball together, but still - it's enough to make me nervous.

I'm going to just drive and park at Dulles for my flight today to Maine for Danielle and John's wedding. It's only $15 a day, which is just $30 more total than the shuttle from the Falls Church metro stop, and I need to idiot proof my trip as much as possible by not waiting for shuttles or figuring out where they go or what they look like.

I wonder where I'll be sleeping tonight. Better pack.

Last Day with students

This series against the Padres is a perfect example of why the Tigers are a team that will drive you to drink. After playing piss poor for a couple of weeks - coincidentally, the moment the team hit .500 they went into a tailspin, starting with that Rafael Palmeiro grand slam in Detroit - they're now on the verge of sweeping the first place Padres. At times, this team looks like championship caliber. But when they're bad, they're really bad. 83 wins - that's all I want. That will mark a 40-game improvement in just two years.

Speaking of which, I hate interleague play. It might be cool for a few teams that are nearby to each other, but it sucks for the vast majority of teams in the league that don't have natural rivals. This year, the Tigers' big rival was... the Diamondbacks. That sucks! Now they're playing the Padres, who they beat in the 1984 World Series, but is hardly a rival. Because of the 18 interleague games, all teams play a crappy unbalanced schedule that takes away from better rivalries than the interleague games. For example, the Tigers only plays bigtime 1980s rivals the Blue Jays twice this year. They've only played the Orioles - who I always considered a prominent AL East rival to the Tigers while growing up, mainly because of the Ripken vs. Trammell plus the Al Kaline connection - for two series a year since I moved to Baltimore. This year, they've played three, but only eight games - still not much.

Today was the last day with students, and I went home early to grade my finals at home instead of my hot classroom. It's all pretty loose around there right now, so it wasn't a problem. I'm grading and watching the Tigers game on mlbtv, and am about to head to the gym once I get through this next stack. Grading has been pleasant. Sometimes I run across a depressing essay - this one girl who decided to write an essay all in one paragraph, then give me a little note at the end thanking me for all she's learned this year (the girl failed the class, badly, and apparently didn't learn that essays have paragraphs in them... poor, sweet kid who didn't belong in Honors English), or another kid who decides to write about one first semester text rather than two texts from second semester - but, for the most part, they're really good; I feel like they learned. Most of the classes have A's or B's on the essays, which is a nice feeling. It's also pretty great to grade essays and just evaluate them without writing comments. Since the kids won't be seeing them, they're just an evaluative tool, not a learning tool, and grading essays goes a lot quicker without commenting or circling errors.

Tomorrow, I'm flying to Maine for a wedding. Based on the recommendation of a friend, I will drive down to the Falls Church Metro Stop (no idea where that is, but I assume I'll be able to find directions somewhere on the internet), then take the shuttle over to Dulles Airport. Officially you cannot park there for more than twenty-four hours, but this friend tells me that he's parked there over a weekend all the time and nothing happens unless you park for over 24 hours during the week. If anyone has additional insight, I'd appreciate it.

I have some dilemmas facing me.

I fly out this weekend to Maine for Danielle and John's wedding. Danielle is my oldest friend and I'm happy to be there, but it's costing me a pretty penny to fly up there and I still don't know where I'm staying or what exactly I'll do when I land. The current plan is rent a car and find a random hotel room somewhere. We'll see.

I'll be back on Sunday, and will finish up the school year on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Then it gets fuzzy. On Saturday the 25th, my 10 year high school reunion takes place in southwest Michigan. This would all be fine, except I have to fly to Albuquerque on the Monday the 27th. So, in order to attend my reunion, I have to get myself to Michigan for what will amount to a very short trip. I could fly out of Michigan and back to Michigan, but I have to be back to Baltimore on Saturday, July 2, for a wedding, so would immediately have to drive back to Baltimore. The Albuquerque trip (a training my school is having me go to that I agreed to in October after bitching about not getting it for a couple of years... it was supposed to be in mid-July, but one fuckup after another - not mine - has forced the trip to June 28-July 1).

Options include flying from Baltimore to Michigan, Michigan to Albuquerque, and Albuquerque to Baltimore. This will cost me a lot, but I'll be reimbursed the airfare for the Albuquerque trip.

I could drive to Michigan on Thursday and drive back on Sunday, something I've done before. But two ten-hour drives in the span of four hours sucks.

Or I could skip the reunion altogether and save my Michigan trip home this summer for mid-July when I wouldn't be rushed. But I'd hate to skip a ten-year reunion. There's just something so curious in me about what became of the people I knew ten years ago - of whom I do not keep in touch with any - that the pure human interest makes me not want to miss it.

Charlie at the gym

I have been working out like crazy lately; I can't remember the last time I missed a day at Bally's.

There's a manager up at Towson who sold me my second membership there. His name is Charlie, and he's a big Italian guy who could probably be an extra on The Sopranos, the type of guy who fills up a room. He's extemely friendly, and has surprised me in the year and a half since the sale by remembering my name. Every time I work out, he always jovially comes up to me to say hi, calling me by my first name. Yesterday, he comes up to me and says, "Helloooo, Mr. (Very unusual and difficult to pronounce last name). How we doin' today?" So, not only my first name, but he also remembers my last name - weird.

He's the lone person I know from the gym in my three and a half years of working there - the net product of my social life there. I know part of it is he's just being a good salesman, but another part of me almost freaks out at his memory. What is it that makes him remember me? Did I call attention to myself somehow? What about my silent battles I fight with the weights and the eliptical and treadmill machines made him somehow remember me out of thousands of people who go there every day? He tells me I'm one of the most frequent visitors, and he usually talks to me when he's talking to a prospective member - I presume he's hoping to show that Bally's is a friendly place where people know you (it's not, except for Charlie).

I wonder if he's concerned that one of the most frequent users of Bally's has a BMI over 30, heh.

The gym is my sanctuary, a place where no one knows me, where I don't have to worry about saying Hi or exchanging pleasantries. I can be in my own little world and totally focus on what I want to do. Charlies sort of ruins that, and, even though I know part of it is he's just being a good at what he does, I appreciate him for that. I'm too internal as it is, and my solitary trips to the gym sometimes emphasize this.

Have to work tonight, so now Happy Hour for me, although if I'm feeling up to it I might give the roomie a call at 11 to see if y'all are still out there.

Credit

I got denied a credit card at Home Depot today. Actually, it was not an official denial, but a notice that they'll get back to me in 7-10 days. I figure that getting back to me will be a denial.

I'm confused by all this. My unsecured debt at the moment is miniscule. I have student loans and a car loan, plus a small, up to date credit card balance of a few hundred dollars. Years of sporadic payments on my credit card apparently are still haunting me, even though I eventually paid off the nearly $10,000 of bad debt a couple of years ago through the second job. It's now been almost two years since then, since that summer when my car went a day from getting repossessed, since I thought I'd have to declare bankruptcy to get out of it. With a little help from the folks and a lot of toil with the second job, I was able to get out of it.

In the last year or so, I've started to get new credit card applications in the mail, which I figured was a sign that my credit score was improving. I got one with a $1000 limit, for emergencies, and used it for such last summer. This school year, I applied for a Dell line of credit, and was approved. I bought a computer for my classroom after months of problems with getting any sort of technology in my room, and it turned out to be a good purchase that I've already paid off. However, since that time, I was denied a credit card at Sears when I wanted to buy a piece of exercise equipment. So I guess different businesses use different credit reporting scores, and I wonder what the cutoffs are. It's all so mysterious and seemingly random to me. I would think that Dell would be stricter in its credit offering than department stores, but I guess not.

Last week, I got a preapproval credit card from Home Depot, plus a $200 coupon off my first purchase with it. All I was supposed to do was go in there and do the paperwork, and then make my purchase. I've been wanting to get a washer and drier for a long, long time - my entire adult life - and thought this might be a good way to do it. I'm paying nearly $25 every time I go to the laundromat and it's getting ridiculous. Since I just paid off my computer, I thought I might try my hand at another purchase to concentrate on.

Alas, it looks like it's not to be. Unless something surprises me, I can't get a line of credit from freaking Home Depot. How I ever think I'm going to get a line of credit to purchase a home, I do not know. I guess it's just a waiting game until my credit score increases enough so I can be an adult and stop going to a freaking laundromat.

School is almost out

The end of the school year is so nice and relaxing. We have finals, and the kids sort of fade away very gently after them. A few linger, helping me by taking down posters or cleaning the classroom up (or, today, playing with my plastic Romeo and Juliet swords) while I grade and listen to Ray Charles, but mostly it's solitary except for the marathon lunches with colleagues. Today, it was so hot that we were dismissed at 12:30. At around eleven o'clock, the heat made the fire alarm go off spontaneously, in the middle of a final. The heat was pretty obnoxious in the building, but outside it was overwhelming. I'm glad we got let out early.

Last final is Thursday, and then makeups on Friday. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of next week, no kids at all, except for the scant few (re: teacher pets) who like to come in and help teachers pack in desperate attempts at extra credit or, on occasion, just because they genuinely like to be helpful. The last day of the year is Wednesday, June 22.

I'm already excited about next year. One of my favorite things about this job is the fresh start I get every year. I throw away as much as possible every year, keeping just one copy of every handout, and just the posters that are in perfect shape. I test all the pens and markers and throw away as many as possible. Next year everything will be fresh. I'm not sure of too many other professions where you get to start new every year. Maybe actors. Maybe athletes. But they're aren't many jobs where you can wash away the year with a chalk eraser and start new the next. It's the end of the year - a time which doesn't depress me, perhaps a biproduct of teaching 9th graders who I know I'll see for a few more years - that helps remind me of this yearly upheaval I'm lucky to have.

Tale of two evenings

Last night, I went for a run around my neighborhood. A friendly, well-trained dog followed me home, and I tried to lose her, but I couldn't. I decided to keep her overnight, and try to find her owners the next day, but she and Holden snarled a bit too much at each other, so I tried to find her home last night. When I brought her back to her street, she trotted to a backyard that she seemed to know. I turned right around and sprinted as fast as I could back home, attempting to lose her. She was a nice dog, and took a liking to me, but the house is clearly a one dog house and she seemed to know where she was going once I got back on her block. I ran as fast as I could, thinking that this could be my "speed work" after my run. However, as I was sprinting, a sidewalk lurched in front of me and I tripped - badly - taking a dive across a few feet of pavement. I'm skinned across my hands, elbows, and knees, and am pretty sore. My wounds dripped blood for a few hours last night, and the night of sleep last night was intermittent and painful.

Tonight, though, I followed up a great post-school workout with our first softball game of the season. The game was perfect - just the right amount of people, a clear victory from the first inning - and felt good all around. Afterwards, I had an enjoyable evening sitting outside and drinking $1 Miller Lites at Kiss Cafe and Outhouse Steakback. I got along with the waitresses at the latter pretty well. They were calling me "Marky Mark" by the third round (not that this name has anything to do with my actual name. That's outlandish) and I have to believe it's because they wanted me and not because I tipped them 100% every time I went up there.

Anyhow, I had one of my best nights in a while, a totally chill evening spent with friends I don't see often enough. Life is good, school is almost out, and we won our softball game.

A change

After a week away from online journaling, I've decided to pack up and move from Diaryland. I haven't heard from Andrew - the guy who started Diaryland - and just don't feel like they're ever going to get an RSS feed. If they do, maybe I'll return. But I doubt it. It's sort of a bummer, since over five years of my life is over there at epiphany.diaryland.com, but it's probably time to move beyond the lavendar walls and teenage girl font of diaryland and into something a little more adult. Losing the 300 hits a day I get from diaryland will suck, but maybe I can figure out a way to bring them over here. Or maybe I don't really care all that much.

So I've decided to come over to Blogger. I have set up a Livejournal account, but that place seems less user-friendly and all the icons and buddy lists frighten me. I gravitated to Livejournal first because I've always been stubborn about not calling this a blog, but a journal. The word wasn't part of our common lexicon when I started my online journal, and somehow I always felt like my thing over there was more of a journal than a blog - brevity has never been a strongsuit of mine, and I think I get more personal than most blogs. But, let's face it, it's a blog.

I also thought about Baltiblogs, but I can't even figure out how to get my password e-mailed to me. I really need things as idiot-proof as possible for me to be successful.

I'll miss certain things about diaryland, but most of the journals I read have also moved elsewhere - Yelnad is at her personal site, Barani is posting postly at his myspace site now, etc. I'll be back for a few - online journal writing doesn't get much better than Non-descript or Widower. But it's probably time I leave. Hopefully, a certain someone reading in Detroit will stop calling this my diary now that diaryland is in the past. It's a journal, Gale, a journal. At least afford me that bit of masculinity.