I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
Saturday School attendance has dropped dramatically. Last week, I only had my three students from Yemen. We finished the lesson and spent the rest of our ninety minute block comparing and contrasting schools in America and in Yemen. The boys argued that I.S. 666 is better than the school they attended in Yemen. Yikes.
Oh, I’d love to talk to one of my college sociology professors about this ad from Craigslist:
Straight guy seeks same for thoughtful affectionate friendship - m4m - 36
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I’ve felt kind of loopy since returning to New York. The traveling wasn’t so bad, nor was the unpacking. I attribute my state of mind, which ranges from lackadaisical to lethargic, on the weather and the season. I am dragging my feet at the start of another year - a year which could very well be the best year of my life. It’s really a shame.
My first assignment in Tom Buckley’s rhetoric class in college was to write an “idiot letter.” These letters are realistic fiction, if you will, composed by a “valued” and “concerned” (read: enthusiastic and dim) consumer and sent to a corporation. Letters from a Nut by Ted L. Nancy is a latter-day collection of “idiot letters.” (I can’t remember the guy who originated the idea or the term).
The night that the RAs had their last staff dinner for the 2005 school year, the RA on-call for the South Tower found an abandoned Siamese kitten in the halls. Well, maybe not a kitten, because it appeared to be very pregnant. The tiny, starving cat was friendly and trusting, despite being blind in one eye. Lore, the South Tower HC, told the RA on-call to call the Humane Society or Animal Rescue Center or some organization that never showed up.
So today I received junk mail that didn’t go to my junk folder. It was all about how I should celebrate Marriage Sunday on November 6 and vote yes on Prop. 2 on Tuesday to keep marriage out of the courts where it could be “permanently altered or perverted.”
The best conversation of today:
I am being driven crazy by the Visa commercial where all the football players serve as metaphors for the multiple layers of Visa credit card security.
*I wrote this during my last semester of college. I called this “The Ambiance of Negligence.” You’d think with a title like that, I’d be writing about the need for NYC public school reform or a terrible dive with roaches that is still a popular eating establishment. No. I was just being haughty and contemplative.
