I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
The best feeling in the world is not love.
Sure, that’s one of the best feelings, but nothing feels as good as the first sense of your own repair/growth. Think of the first time you can think about a person who hurt you and you feel nothing. That person’s name becomes a mere name, instead of a symbol of all your regret, loss, and anger.
Q: Why haven’t you been blogging much lately?
A: I’ve been busy with work six days a week, as well as after-school meetings and such. My social life has also become more active. I’ve been Christmas shopping, etc. In addition, I received many books from my NYPL reading list that I’ve frantically tried to finish before their due dates.
“I feel drunk but I’m sober
I’m young and I’m underpaid
I’m tired but I’m working, yeah
I care but I’m restless
I’m here but I’m really gone
I’m wrong and I’m sorry baby…”
- Alanis Morissette “Hand In My Pocket”
1. Martin, a student of Ms. O. who loves to launch any and all projectiles during class, was flicking balls of paper with rubber bands again last week. Actually, he found one particularly effective rubber band and used it to launch ball after ball into the air, at the teacher’s face, onto the overhead projector… Some strange rubbery pieces were hanging off the rubber band, but it worked well nonetheless. Martin lovingly stroked his rubber band. He’d never go without it again. He didn’t put it down all period…until someone pointed out that it was the lip of a condom.
I really love public transportation. I love the communal experience, getting driven by someone else to where I need to go, and the thinking, reading, and listening that can be done en route. Today I was thinking of this old email I wrote to Sam back in the day, after riding the #6 in Austin:
How exciting it is to tear off the October sheet of my at-a-glance calendar and start scribbling plans for November!
I don’t want to update this blog so sporadically, but long days of teaching in a horrible school don’t really inspire writing. Yes, I still dread every day of work. I check my watch constantly. At the end of the day, I feel drained and only fleetingly relieved.
I had a nice, relaxing Saturday today, so don’t worry that I’ve gone postal yet. I emphasize the “yet.”
Today I remembered an experiment I started doing when I first moved here. I wanted to put all the change I usually leave in the bottom of my bag or in my pockets aside and see how much I collected. I know I could save more money if I didn’t cast away change like it was some stale Cheetos in some stranger’s couch cushions.
