bird by bird

“Despite the fact that there are over eight million people on the island of Manhattan, there are times you still feel shipwrecked and alone. Times even the most resourceful survivor would feel the need to put a message in a bottle.. or on an answering machine.” --SATC

Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine

I'm back to being a temp tramp. Remember when I did this last time ? There was the Israeli real estate agency where everyone had a name like Ari and Avi and Aron, then the PR firm where all the girls were total b*tches and my day was like a scene out of The Devil Wears Prada , and then there were a couple financial offices where I had absolutely no idea what I was doing but people walked around wearing suits that cost as much as my month's rent. It was funny to read about and funny to think back on now, but at the time, it was not funny. Yet, here I am again. In case you don't remember, the teaching thing I did for six months didn't work out because I didn't make enough money to pay my bills (ie my student loan repayments... ie money I had to borrow to be able to be an English teacher...). Then I did the nannying gig for another six months which ironically paid more than the job that I went to grad school for, but it was demoralizing and unsatisfying and basically

Here it is... I'm back to being THIS guy for a while.

It's a story about a young girl who is forced to grow up fast when her dad, a singer and outdoorsman, dies suddenly in an accident at work and she finds herself taking care of her mother, swallowed in grief, and her younger sister, who depends on her for some sort of stability. The girl sacrifices her future for the sake of her family. She is removed from the troublesome, yet consistent environment of her home and is taken to a place that is cold, dark, and painful. She fights the pain but has a partner with blue eyes and strong hands who looks out for her and keeps her safe. One of them is in love. The other one pretends to be. In the end though, she survives. Oh, and birds are kind of her thing. I read and I realized. This is Katniss's story, too .

I think finding a job must be easier when you have the kind of degree that matches up neatly with a specific profession. Go to medical school and become a doctor. Go to law school and become a lawyer. Go to education school and become a teacher. Go to graduate school and get a Master's in English and then what the H do you do?! The problem is not that I can't find jobs I'm interested in. They're everywhere! Do I want to work in a library tutoring students on writing? YES! Do I want to work at a community college teaching composition courses? YES! Do I want to work at a university as an academic advisor? YES! The problem is that for each job that I'm applying for, I have to completely redo my resume and cover letter. And we're not talking about little changes, either. My strengths, goals, and specializations literally have to be changed every five minutes and it's leaving me very confused about what exactly it is I want to do with my life. It

I have a friend who is sweet like U.Brew javalanches, soft like a chinchilla's fur, and sassy like old school Mariah dance moves. I made these similes for DP because DP makes me smile, and today is his BIRTHDAY!! He's wonderful and thoughtful and overall such a great person. Even though whenever we meet up, it always seems to be raining, he's my sunshine on a cloudy day. We sing Hilary and Rihanna and dance like that scene from Step Up 2. It's hot. I hope that today (and every day) he knows how much he is loved. Happy Birthday DP!

By Langston Hughes Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie, Caramel treat, Honey-gold baby Sweet enough to eat. Peach-skinned girlie, Coffee and cream, Chocolate darling Out of a dream. Walnut tinted Or cocoa brown, Pomegranate-lipped Pride of the town. Rich cream-colored To plum-tinted black, Feminine sweetness In Harlem’s no lack. Glow of the quince To blush of the rose. Persimmon bronze To cinnamon toes. Blackberry cordial, Virginia Dare wine— All those sweet colors Flavor Harlem of mine! Walnut or cocoa, Let me repeat: Caramel, brown sugar, A chocolate treat. Molasses taffy, Coffee and cream, Licorice, clove, cinnamon To a honey-brown dream. Ginger, wine-gold, Persimmon, blackberry, All through the spectrum Harlem girls vary— So if you want to know beauty’s Rainbow-sweet thrill, Stroll down luscious, Delicious, fine Sugar

Thanks to Shazam and American Apparel Shazammed <br>

Wednesday was my first of day of being unemployed so I was all, "I'm taking the day off of job hunting, and I'm going to enjoy it. I deserve this!" Thursday was 75 degrees outside so I was all, "I'm taking the day off of job hunting, and I'm going to enjoy the beautiful weather. I'm going to the park." Friday I woke up extremely hungover so I was all, "I'm extremely hungover. I'm taking the day off of job hunting. First, I'll take some ibuprofen." Saturday I went shopping for work clothes and when I got home I was all, "I've prepared for a new job by shopping today. I have three new blazers. I'm taking the day off of job hunting." Sunday I woke up, applied for one job and was all, "That was exhausting! I'm going back to bed." Let's have our fingers crossed for a fresh start on Monday...

Source: flickr.com via Amanda on Pinterest

It hasn't been a secret that my nannying adventures in the past six months have been less-than-ideal, to put it mildly. It's kind of been like the beginning of that Brittany Murphy/Dakota Fanning movie, Uptown Girls ( A grown-up woman, who kept her childish instincts and behavior, starts working as a nanny of a 8-year-old girl, who actually acts like an adult - totally stole that from IMBD). The difference is that my real life experience stopped midway through the movie, and the relationship between me and these NYC snake and math loving boys never quite made it to the happily ever after. There were some good times (ie their amazement at my ability to create paper monsters), but for most of the six months that I stuck it out babysitting, I was miserable. Being a nanny is a little bit like being trapped on a deserted island. No matter how prepared or resourceful that you think you are, you learn very quickly that you are neither prepared nor resourceful. Your world is tur

When I go to drop off or pick up the boys at school, or when I take JT to a music or toddler tumbling class, people don't know what to think of me. The moms look at me and think, "She can't be a mom. Just look at her clothes and her naked left hand." The nannies look at me and think, "She can't be a nanny. She's young, and the kids look just like her." The truth is, I don't look like the typical upper west side mom, and I don't look like the typical upper west side nanny. I just look out of place. At school or class or the playground, the moms all stand together holding starbucks cups and talking with each other about hot yoga or Aspen trips or organic food. The nannies all stand together with tired shoulders and knees talking about what time they get off, how disorganized their bosses are, and how poorly adjusted those kids are going to be when they grow up. I've decided that this just isn't going to work for me. Just because I

The last six months I took a step back from teaching, and I became a nanny. I didn't have a marker board or the attention of an entire classroom (or rarely even a single kid), but looking back, I did get to squeeze in a few teaching moments here and there.  I taught K. the Presidents song, how to draw a star, and that adults always know when kids are lying about having brushed their teeth. I taught J.J. which shoe goes on which foot, that you can put raspberries on your fingers and eat them that way, and the difference between an author and an illustrator. J.J. also now knows the word "inappropriate." Oh yeah, and I taught J.T. how to talk. (colors, numbers, shapes, letters.. yeah, that was all me). I'm still trying to figure out how exactly I can fit this into my teaching CV. I think it's way more of an accomplishment than teaching a classroom full of college students the difference between "your" and "you're." Am I right?!

I was home a few weeks ago and after reflecting on my trip back, I realized that one of the things I miss most about living in South Dakota (other than the people and proximity to real soil, of course) is being able to get in a car and drive. I miss being able to walk from a front door to a driveway, get in and turn on music, and just go. No walking 6 blocks to a train station, no waiting for a delayed train or bus in the rain or the heat or the cold, no sitting or standing next to strangers while uncomfortably and accidentally invading each others' personal spaces. Inside the safe confines of a car, I can be in control of the music and the speed and the direction. It's so liberating, and I so miss my jeep liberty. I miss being able to look out a window, and even if the scenery is unchanging, there is sky and land and space. Instead, if I want to go somewhere in NYC, I have to go down into the raw smelling underbelly of the city and like cattle be herded into this 21st century

[Sorry this is so late!] The other day (several weeks ago) I woke up and decided to climb a mountain. Actually, I was granted permission to take the morning off from the parents of the family that I was on vacation with. Up until the moment when the hotel van dropped me off at the start of the trail, I had been constantly attached to one, two, or three of the boys I babysit. We had been inseparable for four straight days, even sharing the same bedroom and bed. I needed a break, and I needed some air. So I started my Ash Wednesday morning by strapping on some ice cleats, popping my ipod headphones in, and slowly but surely making my way up Smuggler Mountain. It wasn't a Rocky kind of climb. There was no running involving, and I even got passed by a senior citizen or two, but as long as I was on that trail, I was free. So I took my GD time. I was suddenly and totally alone, but it wasn't lonely because I had my music family along: Mumford and Sons and the Avett Brothers, Ray