Tuesday Morning

So I got trapped on my roof yesterday…

Yeah. That’s right, trapped on my roof.

Let’s just be clear here, I’m not a complete idiot, and I swear it’s never happened before.

Don’t judge. It could happen to you.

First class was canceled, quite fortuitous actually, as I would have missed it anyway. Seriously, what professor in his right mind would buy that as an excuse? I sure as hell wouldn’t… I was sitting on the far side of the roof, observing the day, waking up, in my old Tulane sweatpants and a sweater… and slippers. It as breezy, but no more than usual. And then I hear a strange noise, and the shadow of a chair, which should have been holding the door open, sliding across the roof. I ran for it, but to no avail. The door slammed shut. The CRASH door slammed shut. Do you know what a crash door is? It opens out from one side, the other is just a steel plate, which, if you’re on the wrong side of it, laughs at you, mercilessly. I climbed over a few other roofs, looking for an open door. Nothing. I came back to my roof, and peaked over the edge, seeing if I could spot any of the EMTs usually parked on the block. Too early for them I guess.

Fuck. So I had to do it. I really had to do it. Shit. This can’t possibly be good. I took off my slippers, put them in my pockets and headed up and over the guard wall off the back off the roof. Doowwwnnn the fire escape. Past my window, I could see my own front door, mocking me, all the locks unlocked, just asking to be opened. Down another flight. Sleeping couple, passed them quickly, and the crazy lady with smiley faces all over everything. Down another, boarded up, no one was getting into those apartments. Another, the bathroom windows of the tattoo and piercing parlors. And finally, down the last ladder, which was mercifully extended down to the ground. Slippers on, embarrassing, but better than bare feet I suppose. Out to the front, up that first flight to the buzzers. Please please please let someone be home. I buzzed all but my own, safe to assume no one was there. I got an answer, I think it was 2, voice sounded familiar. Pitiful as I sounded, I don’t think anyone wouldn’t have let me in. I bounded up my stairs, inside, locked everything and plopped on the couch. Phew.

Kathryn

“Yeah, I’m crazy…”

“Yeah, I’m crazy. I’m the crazy fuckin’ Puerto Rican.”

As he tosses yet another bill out of the bus window. Four so far; one in half, something about meeting you half way. One was for Bloomberg “and his office. Here’s a dollar… … Cockroach…”

He finally settles into a seat, and pulls a wad from his sock, after removing the first forcibly from his left back pocket. He sorts them, holding on to the bigger bills, pulling the ones and disposing of them. One by one. Money comes and money goes; he was making it go a bit faster. A bill stuck in the window frame, trapped – waiting for someone to realize its value. Another, tossed to the floor, quickly snatched up by the chubby asian woman.

He settles into a comfortable position, elbow resting on the back on the seat in front of him, arm extended, contentedly flipping off the front half of the bus.

He studies another bill, tilted downwards, holding it to the flame of his imaginary lighter. He watches it burn. Rip it up, thrown it down.

“All the money in the whole world doesn’t get you anything.”

The floor is littered with little bits of green paper.

This is a true story, perhaps a bit embellished. A late night experience I had, coming home on the m15. I opted for the longer trip on the bus vs. the shorter subway ride in order to get some school reading out of the way, but then this guy came and sat down in front of me. I was compelled to take notes, I couldn’t help it. He was so adsorbed in his own story, he could have turned his head a few degrees and bumped into the notebook in which I was writing about him, but he never did. 40 minutes later, when I got off the bus, he was still sitting there, talking to himself, and to his money.

-Kathryn

Gentle Monster

The boss man’s dog was lazying around behind the bar when I arrived late Friday night. I didn’t notice him until I leaned into the bar, getting a little more distance than usual, on my tip toes. I didn’t what it was at first, blame it on the bad lighting. Before me lay this monster of a dog, gorgeous, orange- blonde, drooly, french mastiff. He came out from behind the bar later on in the night, as the place emptied, and gave love all around. He’s the kind of dog that doesn’t whore himself out for attention, but when you stop rubbing him, he starts wagging his tail, and turns to give you that pitiful, “why did you stop?” look. Needless to say, he had me hooked. Cali and I hung out for most of the night, and it was really nice to have that canine contact again. The kinda funky smell and feel left on your hands after you’ve played with them, I’m surprised I missed that as much as I do. Cali was just what I needed, and I must say that I do hope to own a dog that large and docile some day. 

Kathryn

Playing The Game

I have potential. So said the inebriated proprietor of my favorite pool hall.

I played late into Friday night, by myself and against various regulars – all who had tips for me. I played a couple of games with one guy’s break stick. It was amazing how much better is was to play with it than with the cues the pool hall provides. I was told that I really should get my own stick, and that in a matter of weeks I would see a noticable improvement in my game.

So I guess the next step is to buy a cue. Now, how do I go about doing that…

Kathryn

Hunter Musings

P. Lit’s left ring finger was bare again.What’s your angle?

State Money for Teachers and Teacher Education

I have searched high and low, on DoE (Department of Education) websites, on national sites, called innumerable people asking the question that no one seems to be able to answer. I am looking for state money allocated for teacher education. I refuse to believe that money doesn’t exist, but I am having a hell of a time finding it. I’ve found programs for Florida, Texas, California, Iowa and Alaska, but cannot find a thing for the other 45 states. I’m aware of the Federal Loan Forgiveness – but because Stafford Loans are given by the Federal Government, they can only be forgiven by the fed gov as well. Some states piggy back onto that, and have loan forgiveness for other loans, if a student teaches in a high-needs/low-income school for an allotted period of time.

The problem is, I’m looking for money that, while is state specific, is not school-state specific. Many states have money available for teachers who went to school in their state, and plan to teach there as well. I need money that is for students who plan to teach in that specific state, but went to school elsewhere.

If you have any information that might help me, please comment!! I implore you!

-Kathryn

Ned

I saw the life go out of him.

I was at his head when the doctor pushed the syringe. It was fast; immediate.

Dad and I carried him from the car to the grave, he felt like jelly in our arms.

We buried him next to his brother, Bob, who died 13 years ago, as a puppy – hit by a motorcycle my first day of 3rd grade.

He always liked to run after the cork, when dad popped it, and drink the icy water in the bucket, so we toasted him, and buried that last cork with him.

As the condolences have come pouring in, one in particular stuck with me. From a family friend, “may his memory be a blessing”.

May his memory be a blessing.

Love you Ned.

Uncomfortably Numb

I wake up in the middle of the night, disoriented, left arm completely numb. I know I’m fine, but it’s a little scary, not being able to feel a part of my body. I pick it up and shake it with my right hand, it flops around – I could break my own finger and it wouldn’t hurt. Now that my dead weight is off the limb, feeling starts to return to it; slowly, painfully. Pins and needles, it feels like.

Is that how I’ll feel tomorrow morning? When I wake up – my head swimming, stomach knotted. Will the feelings that slipped away tonight slowly reintroduce themselves to me, painfully, little needles of sorrow.

I feel like I have a better understanding of why people drink. My dad called me earlier this evening – to update me on Ned. I could hear mom in the background, coaching him. He let me know that Dr. Dave wasn’t able to do anything, that Ned could live for a while, but not happily, not with the quality of life which we would wish for him. We have to put him down. We are going to put him down. After this weekend I’m not going to have a dog, companion, surrogate brother. I wandered around for a while, a bawling mess, and then got myself together and went to my favorite pool hall – and started drinking. I managed myself smartly, getting drunk without crossing the line into stupid, or worse – sick. And a few hours in, I tried to think about Ned. I didn’t get sad – I didn’t have to distract myself to avoid tearing up. I can’t say that I didn’t care. Instead, I felt, and feel – numb.

I know it’s there, the overwhelming shadow hovering over me, but I’ve dumbed myself down enough to not really understand, or comprehend what I should be feeling. I even tested myself in the cab home – willed myself to feel even a morsel of the hurt I felt a few hours before, and I simply couldn’t muster it. It’s just not there. But it’s got to be there. It’s like my arm – there, clearly there – but numb.

Feelings – what if they overwhelm? What if it’s just too much to feel what you have been conditioned to feel when these sorts of things happen? What do you do then?

Kathryn

One week down, 15 to go

I’m kind of freaked out about French. We’re doing review – today and next class, and then we’re jumping into the new stuff. We did some conjugation of exceptions to the 3 regular verb groups, and negations, and a little bit of passe compose. All of those things are cool, it’ll take a bit of effort, but I’ll not have trouble getting back into the groove of it. What worries me is the little stuff – things like “un” changing to “de” when you negate – I wish I new more about english grammar, so that I could better understand why these things happen – or at least understand the who direct and indirect business. That stuff doesn’t come as second nature to me – simply because I was never formally taught it. If I ever had an english grammar class, I must have blocked it from my memory. I need to discover something that fills in the holes – because I think I need the filling in order to really do this French thing.

Philosophy promises to, if nothing else, be entertaining. Professor does not like when her students disagree with her. It’s interesting to see how each student handles being shot down – some shut down completely, other’s get nasty – it’s pretty entertaining actually. The article we had to read was very interesting. It was about Pacifism, Realism, and Just War Theory. The reading wasn’t difficult – and managed to hold my attention. We were assumed at the beginning of class that the reading would not be getting any easier, and that if we found this reading at all difficult, then we’d best drop the class, because it was going to be too hard.

Math- ok. Pretty boring. Pretty much the same as Monday. He writes something on the board, writes an example to show the new concept in practice, and the writes a problem for us to do. He walks around the looks at every single person’s work, to ensure they’re doing it correctly, and then writes the answer on the board. And then moves on to the next concept. Repetitive… or consistent? I think it’s safe to say this fellow is the least likely of my teachers this semester to throw me for a loop.

Lit is good – No ring today, I wonder why… Somehow I ended up right next to the professor – not a fan of that spot. I can’t pay him the attention I would like to without feeling like I’m staring at him. Anyway. We read William Carlos Williams’ Use of Force, for class. It’s a super short story – like 5 pages. We did what’s called “close reading” – which I don’t actually think is anything special, it’s just a way to convince people to analyze the text more closely. The conversation took an odd turn, in my opinion – it seemed like the whole class was ganging up on the doctor. What I didn’t get a chance to say in class I’ll say here. I don’t think the story is being geared towards any particular person or audience. I think it isn’t being told at all. I think, instead, it is a look into the inner thoughts of a doctor. The things we (people) think are a far cry from the things we say. The way the human mind works is an utter mystery, and it is our moral raising that tells us how to treat these thoughts. The doctor says these things – but he’s not saying them, he’s thinking them. Forcing the little girl to open her mouth, so that he can see whether or not she’s sick, different thoughts are bound to start running through his mind – how a mind runs is not open for judgment – only how a person chooses to act is.

So there you have it, week one – I’m excited for two of them, and can definitely tolerate the other two. Lets hope things continue on in this way!

Kathryn

Libertarian?

Define that for me, would you?

I believe social security is the biggest ponzi scheme out there. I think people should be treated as they are – adults, capable of adult things, like responsibility – I think people should be smart and know that some day they will be too old to work, but too young to die, and will need money to maintain life – however miserly it may be.  It is beyond ridiculous that 7.5% of every cent I I make goes to someone I don’t know – taken from me, when honestly, I need it most. And the sad part is, because it is such a ponzi scheme, it really can’t stop without seriously financially crippling at least one generation. The federal government should faze it out slowly. Lowering the percentage a year at a time. And instead of not telling a soul – because really, who looks at all those percentages on their pay stubs – the Federal Government should make SURE that people are aware of whats going on – maybe start moving money around for people – make the SS% 5, and put the other 2.5% into a savings account, or an IRA, so people can’t touch it. It could be a nation-wide lesson in the benefits of saving. It’s not that I dislike not being able to touch the money – I wouldn’t mind if everything that was taken from me over the years was suddenly given back to me when I turned 65 – but its not, its given to someone who may or may not deserve it – I don’t know, and I don’t like it. I don’t like not being trusted to take care of myself and my money.

I think every should be taxed equally. I think it is unfair that when I happen to work harder one pay period, I push myself up into a higher tax bracket and end up getting paid less. Utterly ridiculous. Tax – COMBINED tax – should be taken at a percentage of a person’s income, the men who understand numbers can base that percentage on the  cost-of-living vs. the national minimum wage – so the person with the smallest paycheck, after taxes, will still be able to afford what they need to live. I have no idea what the number might be, lets say its 16% – so if I make 30K a year, its 16%, if I make 300k a year, guess what? It’s STILL 16%. People who work harder and have higher paying jobs deserve to have the money and luxury and lifestyle that they can afford.

I’ve said this before, and I maintain – the closer I get to politics, the older I get and the more I have to understand these things, the more they terrify me. I cannot fathom how a country who proclaims to be fair and free can steal from it’s citizens. Rules seem to be made to benefit the rich. And then someone points out how all these rules to benefit the rich exist, and everyone starts running around in circles trying to find ways to get money for the poor – and let the rich keep their money – and who suffers? The middle class suffers. I am definitely not in favor of taking from the rich to give to the poor – I am, however, in favor of allowing people to do what they will, make their own mistakes, and let the people who are responsible enough to take it seriously survive.

I look for a party who agrees with this. Someone, anyone I can support who will help to make these things a reality – and what I find is libertarianism.

Kathryn