sappy post for only you to understand

A Disclaimer for you, BB: I have yet to develop a style of blog-writing about *feelings* that does not inevitably spiral out of control into insane sappy emotion-land. For some reason, I can be snarky about just about everything–except when it comes to things like the beauty in poetry, how much I love my friends, and other things about which I seemingly cannot help but be completely, unabashedly passionate about. I do sincerely apologize for this, and let it be known that I’m working on it. Until then, I’ll warn you when I’m about to lay on the sap. Like, for instance, now.

Here’s a song I found for you. I love this girl. And her topknot. And this song. Someday perhaps I’ll write a companion piece called Goodbye L.A. (Covered in Shit). It will be dedicated to you, obviously.

And I tried to be a girl who likes to be used,
I’m too good for that, there’s a mind under this hat.

Remember when you showed me this one? I listened to it over and over again while I drank wine in my bathtub, trying not to drown in my thoughts. With each repeated chorus I worked up a little more courage to leave. I still can’t listen to it without being transported back to that exact moment in time. And the feeling that I had: that I am way luckier to have the amazing people in my life that I do, than I am unlucky for having some of the shitty ones stick around too long. Just in case I don’t tell you it enough: I love you. Thank you for being there, then and always.

Surviving PHX

dearest betty,

Sometimes I get the idea that I could have a blog entirely devoted to.. ideas for blogs. Seriously. I’ve blogged about this before. Grad school is making me realize that I’m one of those “starter” people–you know, those “dreamers” who are visionary but can’t always quite follow through? That’s what we have “finishers” for. I know there are directional names for these things that we learned in strange CY language–does this make me a West? South? I can’t remember for the life of me. You get what I’m saying.

Anyway, coming up with the ideas for blogs is way more fun than actually following through with researching, writing, coming up with the pictures for, etc. etc. posts. Right? Right. In my head, yes. Writing a blog post is overwhelming and stressful. Of course, this could be my grad school mind, which of course tells me that *everything* is overwhelming and stressful. Or at least has the potential to be. Anyway.

Some ideas I’ve had for blogs lately, which I will now just tell you about instead of attempting to create and inevitably become overwhelmed by:

Surviving PHX. In which one reluctant graduate school transplant attempts to make the most of her time in the desert. The trials, the tribulations, the heat. The constant aimless wandering in hopeless pursuit of culture, nearly always ending at the arthouse movie theater.

A Toast to Single Gals. Though I can’t actually take credit for the name, I can say the idea was inspired by this hipster mama’s blog feature. It would be an ode to both my obsession with things on toasted bread* as well as how much I love being single/my single ladies.

Dissertation Ideas. Self-explanatory. Here’s where things get pretty meta.. an idea for a blog on my blog about ideas for blogs about ideas… for my future dissertation. Do you follow? This is how my brain works now. The bottom line: beware what feminist theory can do to one’s thought patterns.

Reminiscent. Subtitle: I miss my friends. The good ones–all of whom are very far away from me. Every single day. And I’m constantly seeing and thinking things that remind me of them. Here would be a way I could consolidate all those things. Perhaps it would also make me feel slightly less far away from them.

There are so many, many more floating around in my head at any given moment, but you get the idea. These things are way more fun to think about than, say “Street Children and political violence: a socio-demographic analysis of street children in Rwanda” or Sex Trafficking: The Global Market in Women and Children, both of which are readings this week for my Youth and Justice class. (Speaking of blog ideas.) Thus, I share my fun thoughts with you. Actually, I have a feeling that most of my future posts will revolve in some way around these general themes, as they have sort of been what’s dictating my life as of late: learning to love where I live, being happy alone, grad school, and remembering those who love me even though they aren’t here with me all the time. This way, I can have tons of “blogs” all combined into one, happy, informative and insightful blog for your viewing pleasure. And my sanity. Stay tuned.

xoxoxoxo, dd.

*I was eating so much banana-peanut butter-honey toast last month I had to stop buying bread. Literally. I was growing toast handles. The economy-sized jar of Nutella also had to be hidden in the back of my cupboard, where it remains, as I fight the good fight trying to pretend it doesn’t exist.

day one

Dear Desert Dame,

I have cut out roughly 45982374 tiny shapes from construction paper today. My right hand is no longer functioning. I severely underestimated how much preschool teachers need strong scissor wielding skills. It’s resume-worthy, really.

The babies kiddos students come tomorrow for their first day of school. EVER. I’ve spend the last two days prepping the classroom; cleaning, organizing, sanitizing, cutting, hanging, decorating. Somewhere between getting a Fantastic-induced (seriously, this stuff is terrible) headache and reading about separation anxiety, I made this connection which had for some reason gone grossly overlooked. We will be starting from scratch in this classroom, how perfectly terrifying! Everything from hand-raising to chair-sitting to quiet-being, letters, shapes, patterns, sounds, all of it, potentially brand new to them! In this moment of fatigued revelation I think quietly, “OMG WHAT AM I DOING.”

Here I am, with 22 little souls ready to march into my classroom tomorrow with their new shoes and socks and lunchboxes filled with organic milk and gluten-free cookies! How on earth does this work? They’re gonna be walking out of this classroom at the end of the year able to write? READ? I don’t believe it.

And then my bleach-soaked brain wandered to you. You’ve had day one already. You’re in school to be the teacher’s teacher! You’re preparing to be the master, the DOCTOR of something. I have to know; how is it going?

transit museum

I’ve decided as a part of my two weeks off of work I am going to play tourist in my own city, and as such deemed Wednesday the day I would visit the New York Transit Museum.  I know, I know. Why with literally hundreds of museums to choose from, would I choose to spend seven dollars to learn about busses and trains? Hear me out.

Coming from the Midwest I am entirely fascinated by widely used mass transit.  In LA, as you know, the metro was inconvenient and accounted for transporting only a very small portion of the city’s residents. Here, the subway system is historic, intricate, mysterious and is the main mode of transportation for nearly half the city’s residents.  How did they tunnel under the river?! Why don’t we all worry about it collapsing?  Is mob activity really the reason the MTA is going bankrupt? (a fascinating rumor) So many questions, I knew only a museum dedicated to the subject could hold any answers.

It did not disappoint. Upon arriving, I tried to enter though the main building, which had signs plastered everywhere for the entrance, only to realize that I had to go down into an actual subway station to get to it, go figure.  The story of how the subway system came to be draws lines from the urbanization and industrialization of the time, is tied to race and class issues, union formation, and the overwhelming increase of immigrants coming to NYC.  Tunneling under the river was one of the most dangerous jobs because the air pressure below the surface is 100 pounds per square inch and with air that compressed tiny cracks in the rock above the tunnel would form leaks which caused the compressed air to sneak out and water to rush in, creating a vacuum which sucked up the men working and dragged them through 15-20 feet of muck and sand before sending them flying into the east river! And many of the men who experienced this survived! I’m a nerd!

The museum also had examples of train cars from every era, featuring ads from the times that were listed above. Cars used to be made of wood, and benches covered in yellow rattan. Gah, they were so much prettier then. But riding them also left you with a 8% chance of getting smashed to smithereens when they derailed or collided. Trade off.

Next time you’re here we’re gonna ride the six train past it’s last stop, because supposedly when you do, you get to see the original (now unused) city hall stop, the crown jewel of the Interborough Rapid Transit Company.  Cool, huh?

library visit

dearest BB,

i went to the public library yesterday as a sort of rite of passage of living in a new city. i was fully prepared to judge the entire town by the friendliness of the librarians, the accessibility of the place, the resources available, and, let’s be real, if it was aesthetically pleasing. i was not disappointed on any front! it was pretty and functional, the folks who worked there, despite being typically old, were shockingly friendly and helpful, and the place even comes with its OWN cafe and (cheap cheap CHEAP) used bookstore inside. is this how the L.A. library was, where you spent so many hours, yet where i managed to set nary a foot inside? (a fact i lament often, and which i think is indicative of my entire experience of that godforsaken place) also, i got a very pretty library card–you got to chose between four card designs rendered by local artists. so, spending $.50 overall, i got a nice stack of new media, some of which i actually own, and some local art. and it’s biking distance from my house. score. how’s your local library?