outta here again

Portland-bound. Maybe not the brightest idea, but it's got to happen. All things being equal, I'd like to look at the other Potential Home City.

got a few comments back from the thesis advisor, in other news. "This is MA level work." !!

MS 224 didn't hire me. Welcome back, doubts. Make yourselves at home.

Apparently, my lesson "showed [my] potential," but class management was lacking. I could have told them that. I'll likely have to teach demo lessons in all of my interviews -- if possible, I'm even more intimidated now than I was before. Damn it. I've never cried about a fucking JOB before.

EDIT: Not that the doubts haven't been a long time coming. They're starting to mount, not as a matter of self-doubt (although that's certainly an element,) but doubting whether or not I want to do this altogether. I'm hard-pressed to come up with a reason why Teach for America is a compelling option. Making a list of pros and cons has, over the course of a few hours, resulting in a staggering mountain of cons. What am I doing with myself? Why? THE FUTURE IS LAME.

FURTHER EDIT: considering I spent the first three years of university (to say nothing of the many cogent years prior) saying that I'd never be an educator, the sudden decision to teach perhaps ought to give me pause. It's hard to illustrate how beyond second thoughts I am, how doubts have rapidly galvanized into regrets, how I've made NYC into some kind of Saving the Children Fantasy Camp where I'll be totally happy no matter what. I didn't think about this much before. "hey! health insurance! awesome!" is kind of how it went down initially. Damn me for not knowing myself. And damn the Cubs and their losing streak.

but hooray for student loan checks! and sunshine! and new CDs/retail therapy!

also: a bird shat in my hair. C said it's good luck.

Kid E's first conference

This whole weekend has been a lesson in staying my own awkwardness. Never terribly adept at conversation when meeting new people (see also: my father), I've run the gamut of venues at which to "network" -- conference rooms, bars, hoity toity restaurants, beaches, fire pits. While my "network" has only minimally grown -- just as well -- I've made somewhat minor strides in chatting with strangers who intimidate me. Like Jonathan Lethem. Who sat at our table and was largely engaged with the musical obscurefest going on round that neck of the woods. I got some good shots in when conversation turned to Batman, but get a bunch of geeky and PUBLISHED academics together and set them loose... fangirls like me have trouble keeping up with the sheer force and quantity of the "when I met Tina Weymouth" variety. See M for a more comprehensive account of the nerve-wracking drive(mart) and other more eloquent bits.

That said, I'm having a blast. A mass geek-out? Hells yes. I'll even submit a paper once I get up the nerve. I mean hell, there was free beer at one point.

Likewise, hanging out with old friends and friends of old friends has lead to some escapades such as hanging out on a beach listening to a didgeridoo jam session on 4/20 and wandering about Discovery Park, trying to avoid childrens.

Moral of the story: the Experience Music Project is the ugliest building I've ever seen. The Science Fiction Museum's space croissant is bitchin', though.

now with less whining!

Despite the fact that I'm looking at spending three unplanned hours at Newark Liberty Airport and the night in Sea-Tac, I'm shockingly un-grumpy. This New York/New Jersey weekend has been something else. Early mornings and commutes (up by ugh:00, into the city and hour and change later, emerging from the fog on the subway, arriving at my South Bronx interview by 8:15, my Brooklyn test by 7:30) gave way to plodding around a city that I could get used to. Hit four of the five boroughs. Missed Queens, and Staten Island might not fully count since I only drove through it, but still not so bad. Overview: City - yes, Jersey, hell no.

The interview went reasonably well. Checking my email the night before, I found out that all of my frantic lesson planning for an elaborate classroom debate was for nought. They assigned me a lesson, and a math lesson at that. Parallel and perpendicular lines, to be precise, for a class of special ed 7th graders. They were pretty sweet -- shy and reluctant to answer at first, but they warmed up. As I was leaving, one kid asked me if I was going already. A good sign, I think. It wasn't a perfect lesson by any means; I made the rookie mistake of spending too much time conferring with each kid and some of them got restless. But no riots. I hope I get the job -- the school is small and well-run. It's a middle school of SCIENCE! apparently. MS 224. For the moment, I'm excited.

The exams petrified me, but they weren't as bad as I expected either. A lot of general knowedge sorts of questions.

Going back further, I haven't written anything about the awesomeness of late, such as Jenaya's phenomenal pig roast, my father's visit to Eugene or any of the miscellaneous tomfoolery I've been up to when not frantically studying. To round up: massive pig + good folks + my awkward father + SO MUCH PIE = best birthday party in a long, long time. That tenderloin chunk haunts my dreams, as does the chocolate bourbon pecan pie. It was dreamy. The parental visit was pleasant and laid back, much like my dad. We hit all the Eugene highlights: Bier Stein, Sweet Life, Hendricks park, aforementioned pig roast. I think it was strange for my dad to see me on my turf, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Since then, I've been getting a lot of "you and your father are the same person" sorts of comments. In other news, L came down for a mermaid omlette and a photo op and 10 cent beers. John and I played a lot of N64. Lincoln House. you know.

Although I think New York will be pretty awesome, it's becoming eminently clear that I love Oregon. Portland owns my heart, but Eugene has endeared itself to me as well. This year has been fantastic, owing to the population of my world -- new and old members both -- and those incredible Oregon springs and those incredible Oregon beers. There's an unshakable atmosphere. I dig it. The biggest misgivings I have about TFA are related to leaving my friends and my new home. Big cities are fun, but I get intimidated and restless when the only trees around are requisite sickly roadside saplings. This is really just a roundabout way of saying to myself, "I'll come back."

NYC tomorrow - sunday. Seattle next weekend. Montana after that. Final thesis draft by April 30. My little bro's graduation in Anchorage May 15. Defense on May 21. Graduation in June. Moving to NYC eight days after. Eighteen academic credits.

"you seem tense."

yep. I just learned THIS MORNING that I need to concoct a 30-45 minute lesson for my interview on Friday (by the way, I apparently have an interview -- think of TFA as a placement service rather than an employer.) In South Bronx. Commuting from fucking jersey. between this and the certification exam, I'm pretty well freaked out.

okay, rant over. needed that.

heads up

This will be excellent. Tell your friends.

THANK GOD

Before:

(Courtesy of the Amazing Kelly)

After:


SPRING BREAK!

I take altogether too much pleasure in perusing the OED.

The Term That Wouldn't Die is almost dead. Just in time to watch the Oregon game on Friday, I might add.

Also, I found a small jar of raspberry-chocolate goo in the back of the fridge that is just as delicious now as it was last summer. Sugar and alcohol definitely battle it out for the title of Favorite Preservative.

no verbosity till brooklyn.

given how this year is shaking out, that my become quite literal. sadly.

Oregon is number 3 seed in their bracket. I need to write 3 pages per day in order to have a draft by spring break. If I finish on time, the Ducks will probably take the NCAA championship. That's logical, right?

trying not to flip my top over this draft. trying really hard.

UPDATE: Holy new distraction, Batman. This is one of those "why didn't anyone tell me about this sooner" cum "I'm glad I found this now, since it's already cutting madly into worktime" type situations.

Both the abbreviation madness and the leggings need to stop, ps.

grumble grumble thesis grumble

I might not see the light of day for a while, on account of these well-lit days I've been enjoying lately. Got yelled at by campus po-lice for climbing a tree. anyway. time to be boring.

housekeeping

It's been a rather big week. The biggest news is still pretty big news. Having resigned myself to TfA rejection, I was starting to get excited about a move to PDX, being a working stiff in my favorite US city. Still. Opportunity and all. Essentially, I'm disappointed that I must make this decision myself and that circumstances will not make it for me. (Sidenote: My procrastinatory activities of choice have been things like google-mapsing Bedford-Stuyvesant and looking at online sped pedagogy resources. My mind is made up, it seems.)

In totally unrelated news, I got a call from Insurance Dude about my settlement. I think they're lowballing me. Well, they're an insurance company. Of COURSE they're lowballing me. It will take some courage on my part to lob the offer (medical costs + lost wages + $1500, which seems awfully low for a month and a half where I described my condition as "made of pain" -- plus it's a major insurance company who can definitely afford to throw me a bone.) At least the ball is rolling on this, after all this damned waiting.

My baby brother got accepted to Montana State with a bitchin' scholarship! AND he's still seeing his girlfriend! I'm ever so proud of that kid. Although the fact that he's a looming, red-headed giant is still hard to get over. Over the past four years, he's grown 6 inches each winter and summer.

interesting conversation with my folks the other night. Neither of them (teachers both) are too wild about the TfA thing. My mother especially. I get the impression that she fell into teaching and never shook herself out once she realized that she wanted to do other things. It's a mom-ish "realize your potential" cum "don't take the first job that comes along because it's the first job that comes along" cum "don't get shot in the inner city" sort of schtick. Since I know her well enough to parse these things, I didn't really take it the wrong way. But naturally, the follow-up email I get that tells me she's unbelievably proud of me made me cry in the library.

Dad's just jazzed.

Just finished Tricked by Alex Robinson. Check it out. L, I mean you especially. The plot's a bit predictable, but the characterization and formal bits are used very judiciously, I think.

And because it's time for my yearly meme/daily procrastination (von Jenaya:

Five question interview, with personally tailored questions! I know y'all aren't meme-ers, but if you leave your name and number, I'll shoot you five questions of your own, etc. Thus, the circle of life continues.

1. Why did you choose to study at UO?
At the time, I was drawn to the journalism program. In high school, I co-edited the teen section of the Anchorage Daily News for just under two years, and really got the news bug bad. That all changed after I realized that I couldn't stomach corporate journalism and didn't have the faith in myself to stick with the indie press ideal. Incidentally, UO was the only university I applied to openly. Secretly, I sent off photo and creative writing portfolios to several art schools (didn't even tell my girlfriend, my best friend -- I've never kept a secret so well) and was soundly rejected across the board. Plus, UO's cheap(ish) and not in Alaska.
2. What's the most fun you've ever had?
That would be a toss-up between this beautiful autumn day I spent at the Vienna zoo last October or all the time I spent with Adam in Arizona last Christmas. Moving out and aging was the best thing ever for our siblinghood. If I think about it, I'll probably come up with a dozen other things, but those two really stand out. Perhaps because they're so wholesome.
3. Who are you more like - your father, or your mother? How so?
Though I've been finding myself using my mother's turns of phrase lately (which is startling), I'm definitely a lot more like my father. We physically resemble each other, for starters. We're both fairly spacey and goofy, we have a tendency to get very anal about planning-intensive ventures like travel, we're both adept with foreign languages, we've got the same sense of humor, we're "fairly chill sorts" as John puts it, we like the same music, we don't like to rush life, we're both extremely protective of my mother and Adam... the list goes on. Also: both NPR podcast fiends. And hiking ADDICTS.
4. What's your favorite thing to cook, and why?
Probably my blue burgers because they're a fantastic excuse to pull out all the stops, health-wise. They're so massive that sides are an impossibility. Although anything that involves a lot of chopping with a good knife works for me. and the old iPod, of course.
5. If you had to choose one alcoholic beverage to drink for the rest of your life, what would it be? Seeing as I probably can't get away with just saying "beer," I'll have to go with a Bombay Sapphire gin and tonic. I love beer, and life without it is not really a thought I relish, but I can enjoy a B-Saph G&T in any season. The flavors are complex enough to keep me interested, but it's not too froofy. Beer selection is a mood thing.

lastly, I'm sick too. I blame Eugene. According to my old boss, the Owyhee (I think) called the mid-valley "the Valley of Sickness." They don't exactly advertise THAT on the UO website.

I think I just won FutureQuest

I'm in. TFA will send me to New York City to teach special ed, if I so desire.

My hands won't stop shaking.

The question now truly is altruism or selfishness? Go to NYC and devote two years to saving the children or go to PDX and devote two years to my culinary/managerial education.

But SHIT! I got IN!

hot piece of spam

from Elwood 4:43 pm (1 hour ago)
to Coy Powell
date Feb 21, 2007 4:43 PM
subject How is life
Images are not displayed. Display images below

-- deliberately trouble Eh? flower How do? muscle How do?

[this is already a great follow-up to "how is life," but then it gets all Ulysses on me!]

Ben Dollard's vague bass anshiver -- soak Irish? ornament I saw don't know, faith. Is she, Simon?-- A beautiful kill slung shelter station air, said Bloom lost Leopold. I kno suppose Blazes Boylan's smart milk cloudy chain tan shoes creaked on the bar Tap. Ventriloquise. discover My lips light closed. Think knot close in my stom. W pled -- death You're pin looking rubicund, throw George Lidwell said.

[well, mangled Ulysses anyhow. Why am I "Coy Powell" in this spamdress book? That's my new detective/cowgirl name, I think. Some sort of alter ego, anyway.]

stunning conversationalist, you say? why THANK you!

Over the past few days, I've gotten to pull off these gems and have them totally rock their context.

"But napalm aside, I've got to run."

"String theory? You can't puke on string theory, therefore it's bad science. A flux capacitor is totally puke-on-able. Good science." (John and I had a long, hopelessly nerdy conversation on whether or not time travel in a De Lorean would be conducive to motion sickness -- in my case, sadly yes -- and what would happen to the attendant vomit. Physics is fun!)

"So Tajuan Porter is, in fact, the Toto to Brooks' Dorothy and Oguchi's Scarecrow? Does that make Ma-arty the cowardly Lion? ... Hairston's heart totally isn't in it. Totally Tinman." (pause) "The only candidate I'm coming up with for the wicked witch is Lady Kent, and that's not very nice."

"Well, Antarctica probably has bitchin' stargazing. Both constellations and pouring endlessly over the same Entertainment Weekly for days at a stretch."

This week is a laugh-in, I tell you what. Which works for me. I'm exhausted from bouldering and bowlderizing and altogether too much Deutsch. Happy Mardi Gras! Time for some SIN!

I say it all the time, and it never happens, but: this whole binge drinking thing needs to taper off.

Antarctica is looking attractive, oddly. Or BUNAC.

Too much thesis. Too many comic books.

GOD DAMN IT

Flubbed my sample lesson. Poor time management -- they had to cut me off, and I definitely wasn't close to finished. I'm on break - my personal interview is in a couple of hours, so I'm doing some homework and trying to calm down. I've never been so nervous.

Damn it, I could be a kick-ass teacher.

Right. Not counting chickens.

ARGH

----------
(Five or six hours later.)

The rest of the interview went well. I'll chalk my initial crummy performance (and it seriously was sub-par by my standards -- I'm not being modest) up to nerves and hope for the best. On the other hand, it's not the end of the world if I don't get this gig. There's always Antarctica! Although working for Raytheon might be a little TOO morally reprehensible. Still. I'm built for the cold. Or Portland. In any case, this chapter of FutureQuest can thankfully exit stage left.

On to the next ten pages of thesis-ing, for which I've had to turn down beer and movies. Grump.

PS. File under "Internets Needs Proofing." The banner on google.com says "Googe," although it's hard to tell with that ridiculous chocolate-covered strawberry standing in for the second g. (Any Achewood readers? Back me up on this...)

The worst of it is, I've barely been cooking lately. Midterms, this impending interview, parties of all stripes, concerts, the looming T-word, and the last few shifts at the dining hall -- little wonder I've not found the time to cook or exercise.

Must go write a lesson on semicolon use -- yep, I'm rocking the punctuation. for the children! The Dreaded Interview begins in less than 36 hours. My recent slow-burning, long-lasting nervousness strikes me as far inferior to the traditional flashes of anxiety. Have I mentioned that TfA may well be the first real challenge of this nature I have ever set myself. Getting into UO was a breeze, applying for the overseas nonsense was just a matter of showing up and fronting some cash, and the only other selection processes that spring to mind are auditions in junior high and choosing up sides for soccer games. This is by far the most rigorous and ambitious application-type deal I've ever endured, and I'm scared witless. Not that getting rejected (and subsequently packing up for Portland) would be a travesty. In fact, sometimes I hope I won't be accepted so I can slide into a low-key gig of some lucrative kind or another. For some neurotic reason, I consider myself a Quitter. Maybe getting rejected forestalls the possibility of giving up. God, that's depressing. In any case, I can't think about the interview without starting to sweat a little.

I think it's time to crank the jams.

über my dead body

German homework? What? Who? no. basketball.

I realized that over the past three months or so, the readership of this thing has altered somewhat. So this post will be less of the typical in-the-moment whining and more longterm whining. Isn't that kind of interesting? Bloggers/LJers/whatever-ers assume that their readers will catch on in medias res. Hence the brief recap after today's events. Today was bitchin', by the way.

Today:
-solved my interview clothing problems without resorting to a hellish bus ride to a hellisher mall. GodDAMN do I hate VRC and love the boutique-y shops in my 'hood. Ever increasingly, there's less I love about my 'hood. The constant drunken babble, the ever-present litter -- symptomatic of a the entitled attitude that drives me up the fucking wall, the redneck-y harassment (here? really? c'mon kids, I left alaska for a reason...), the slummy apartment, the NOISE. however, the bier stein, some decent mexican, some crummy and addictive coffee and said clothing shops are 'round about here. overall, no complaints. 'spose.
-had a very overwhelmingly positive ex encounter. having social skills makes me want to dance.
-had a falafel, which makes any day AWESOME.
-spilled the following upon myself in this order: runny egg, coffee, falafel juice. these poor pants.
-patched my favorite jeans. cleaned. made further progress on errand-y things.
-watched the ducks beat ASU. I considered calling Aaron to gloat, but figured he wouldn't be too into it. After all, he did finish his MA a while ago and isn't too much for the hoops. I've loved re-embracing my basketball fan self. More than a few pals have said it doesn't really jive with my personality, whatever the hell that means. This season is my coming-out season: My name is Erica, and I love college hoops. DEAL WITH IT.

In general:
-Western Culinary institute still wants me/my money. I'm not sure if I want to do this. Aren't culinary schools a little over the top for what I want to do? That is to say, I can whip up some better than decent bar food, which is all I need, really. Friend C and I have decided to try to open a bar when we have a little start-up dough. She's good with numbers and booze, I'm good with people and food and booze, and we're both dedicated enough to the idea to backburner it until it's do-able. hell with cook school.
-making stock tomorrow. haven't done it in a while. must buy whole cloves.
-TFA interview. AGRHGHHHHH. My lesson will be on semicolons. am I the lamest grammarian ever? survey saaaaays yes.
-really, REALLY enjoying my alone time these days. reading the new paul auster. dancing around my apartment in various states of undress.
-quit the dining hall job. my last day's V-day. love pirate party to ensue. not especially creative, but it should be appropriately boozy and light-hearted. all eugenian readers ARRR welcome. costumes required.
-I miss my Anchortown buddies especially much this time of year. that thought makes me think about how brief my remaining eugene time may well be. ripping up these newly shot roots doesn't appeal. but.
-to my ridiculous variety pack of really super friends in all locations: endless and sincere love.

insomnia now

Rather than a newsy post about a boozy weekend or bitching about my incessant iTunes problems (THIS PROGRAM IS ASININE AND MUST LEARN RESPECT), I'll tell y'all about a moment ago. I was - and still am - in some warmed-up flannel jammies, perusing bookslut and salon alternately, sipping some kryptonite ibarra hot cocoa, when I discovered that I was not at all anxious/perplexed/angry about The Future or My Stupid Problems With Women or the Classes About Which I Whine Too Much. Come July, I could be anywhere. It's neither freeing nor frightening, perhaps because I'm cozy and satiated and in a bit of a daze, but I'll take it. I think, shock of shocks, that the sudden spike in non-compulsory reading has something to do with this. Three cheers for appropriated leisure time!

I found a bright orange telephone today, complete with cords. Art forthcoming.

Cheese has been disappearing at an alarming rate around here. John and I do the separate food thing, so I have no one to blame but myself (and those DAMN DIRTY APES) - cheese can be a more expensive habit than either beer or smoking. It's a good thing I don't smoke. I'd be broke.

My little bro has a girlfriend. I'm over the moon about it because it's great ammo for my Sibling Teasing Cannons, but it does mean he's never around to answer the damn phone. so I can't let the volleys fly.

Making mixes and burning requests. Anyone want anything else while I'm at it?

on top of all that, I'm re-establishing my tenuous photoshop skills. don't expect results. found a bunch of difficult ones that I can't seem to delete.

did anyone see The Black Dahlia? M? L?

Skipping class, particularly a class in which I'm totally golden, to get other things done isn't a crime. So why do I feel guilty and anxious? Maybe because I'm also skipping class to go shopping. For interview clothes! I have none! That's still considered productive, right? Hmm.

Somewhere in the my-apartment vicinity is a wireless network called Swann's Wireless Way. A Prouster nearby gives me glee, but naming a wireless network after Dead Frenchie's Greatest Hit... well, I guess John and I aren't ones to talk. Ours is called Team Awesome.

Finished ten pages of my thesis rough draft a couple of days hence. Upon turning said pages into my advisors, I promptly rewarded myself with a falafel.

I'm in a very "no patience for Belle and Sebastian, the Cure, the Police or the Wallflowers, so I'd appreciate it if you'd cut that shit out, iPod" sort of mood. Frustrated, one might say. Been listening to this gent, who is also, I'm proud to say, an aquaintance of mine. GAH -- forgot to get BLOW/Of Montreal tickets AGAIN. Verdammt!

No more sauce! February 14 is my (rather appropriate) last day at the dining hall. I'm applying for a techie desk job at the law school -- here's hoping.

Lately, I've felt like I have the emotional spectrum of a fish. Or like I'm on lithium. Restraining emotions doesn't come easily to me, so why have I not been reacting at all to what should, by all accounts, be a very emotional time? I'm just tired. No wonder most posts have been so disjointed.

My grandpa sent me fudge and a candy thermometer.