job hopper

I had an interview for a part time tutoring job today, which I probably won't get because my classes are all during their programming time and I don't think the interviewers liked me. The questions were pretty standard and I thought my answers were good, but I just didn't get good vibes from them. And one question really bothered me and caused me to feel a little defensive, so that may have cost me some points.

The question was also a somewhat standard interview question. The interviewer, looking at my resume, noted that Ive had several different jobs in the past three years since I graduated. I know this is a concern for employers and a question that is sometimes asked. Maybe he just felt like he was supposed to ask this question. I don't know, but it felt like a challenge. Since graduating UMass in 2007 I have worked at several different places (not all of them noted on my resume, they don't need to know I worked at Target). That summer I worked at Girl Scout camp, which obviously ends in the summer. After that I returned reluctantly to the Y as a site coordinator this time. That job ended with the school year, and I chose not to return for another year because there was no room for advancement, and I couldn't work part time with no benefits forever. Unable to find a "real" job I took a job at Target, which was the most miserable three months of my life. Out of desperation and a desire to do something that mattered, I did a year of service with AmeriCorps, not that it is a YEAR OF SERVICE. It says year of service on my resume. Unable to find a "real" job after that year, I finally ended up doing relief office work, which let to my first "real" job in HR. Which I left to go to grad school so I could get a job doing something I really care about, which is teaching kids. SO, that's 5 jobs in three years. But 2 of them are expected to end after a period of time, one is clearly not a long term option, and another I worked at for three years prior and had advanced pretty much as far as I could. And can you blame me for leaving my full time job for an opportunity to study at the University of Pennsylvania? I feel like this makes sense and is perfectly reasonable. Dream jobs are hard to come by, and I'm not going to stay at a dead-end job I hate just so my resume looks better.

Sorry I'm ranting. Like I said, I don't know if he asked the question just because he felt like he was supposed to, or if he was really concerned about my apparent job hopping. But really, am I really going to work at the Y part time for $11 an hour for the rest of my life?

PNBR

Today I met my sister in center city with the intention of shopping. I didn't end up buying anything, but it was nice to hang out and look at things I would buy if I had money. We sat in Rittenhouse park for a little while watching cute dogs run around and enjoying the weather. Today was the Philly Naked Bike Ride and someone nearby was talking about how they were heading this way, to go around the park. We saw a few semi-nude people gathered, and a even larger crowd gathered to gawk, but no one actually riding. We decided to part ways and as I rounded the corner to catch the trolley back to west Philly I saw them. A HUGE mass of naked and semi-naked cyclists. It was..... interesting. Most of these people were not people I would want to see naked. I lingered to watch the last of them before going down to the trolley, and a teenage girl was there loudly expressing her disgust.

Here's a video! Warning: There are nekkid people in this video:

Philadelphia

I should probably share some updates now that we're in Philly. This is where I'll be typing from for the next year or so:

I haven't had a desk in so long, it's kind of nice. I got that pink chair at IKEA, where we've spent many hours and dollars, it's pretty fantastic. The table was there when we got here, so I decided to use it as a desk. I purchased the $5 cork board at Target and am successfully filling it up with silly shit. Canobie Lake Park map, narwhal picture from a box of tea, little pig pin from when I was 8, for example.

If you're wondering what the neighborhood looks like, you should probably just visit. But here's a view of the monolithic Catholic church and school at the end of our block as seen from our porch (that's right, we have a porch):

Things have been interesting so far. I've had a few run ins with local characters, the restaurants here are pretty good. There are a lot of Ethiopian places, which is interesting. There is a large African immigrant population in this area, but there are also a lot of students and families. Things are cheaper in this neck of the woods as opposed to the more bustling areas. I've driven across the city quite a few times to bring Nate to work, but I mostly stick to Market and Walnut. I'm excited to school to start, but also nervous. It will be good to have something to do during the day.

how I was bullied in middle school and almost got expelled.

This terrible thing that happened in South Hadley has got me thinking about bullying, and school, and the horrible crap kids do and say to eachother. I'm not going to comment specifically about what happened to Phoebe Prince, or what I think should happen to the kids who harassed her. Her story's not mine, but it's got me thinking about what happened to me.

My story doesn't really follow the traditional teen bullying/suicide arc. I didn't try to kill myself because I was being bullied. But I was harrassed and taunted and bullied AFTER I tried to kill myself. I lost my leg when I tried to kill myself, along with two other girls, by taking a lot of tylenol. That's all the back story you need to understand the names I was called. I honestly don't remember how long it took for it to start from the time I returned to school to the time I left, but by the time I was in 8th grade I was starting to get sick of it. "It" being kids I didn't even know yelling "pill popper" and "peg leg" at me as I got off the elevator everyday or the kid in my gym class who stood across from me during a volleyball game and called me a pill popper repeatedly until I limped over to punch him. I was even bullied, in a way, by my bus driver.

Let's do this story in three parts for clarity:

I. GYM CLASS
I won't name names, but some kid who was in several of my classes in 8th grade was an asshole. I don't know if he's an asshole now, but he was truly a cruel kid in 1998. He was in more than just my gym class, and I don't remember if it was 7th or 8th grade when this incident happened, but this is what happened: I usually skipped gym class by going to the nurse with a stomach ache, but for some reason I was there this day. We were playing volleyball, which was a game I could sort of play if I stayed in one place. This kid was on the opposite team, and everytime he ended up in front of me he would sneer and taunt me, calling me a "pill popper" and possibly "peg leg." Words that sound ridiculous now, but at the time really hurt me. I must have reached a tipping point, because eventually I lost it and limped over there as fast as I could fully intent on punching him in the face. Of course, that didn't happen. I wasn't fast enough. We both ended up in the office, and we both got in trouble. Although the prinicpal did say that he wouldn't have blamed me if I did hit him. The problem with that kid might have ended there, or maybe class schedules changed. I have a terrible memory for these things.

II. The Bus Driver.
I will never understand why people who hate children become school bus drivers. I'm sure being a school bus driver is no picnic, but at least be subtle about your deep seeded hatred for young people. The bus driver I had in junior high was an extremely unpleasant human, who despised us all and made sure we knew it. I can understand wanting kids to stay in their seats and not throw things at eachother, but she would FREAK if someone so much as spoke to the person in the seat beside them. It might seem odd or a little bit extreme to make the claim that I was bullied by my bus driver, but in a way that's what she did. I was singled out, I was vulnerable, and she took advantage of my situation simply because she thought she could.
Ever since I started using a cane it's been this fabulous toy anyone around me must play with (this is less true now that most of the people I interract with are adults, but anyone under the age of 12 just can't help themselves), so I undestand the bus driver's desire to put a stop to this happening on the bus. But forcing my to hand over my cane as I got on the bus was not the way to do it. At the time I was mad because it was MY property and she was taking it, and I didn't like that. Now I'm mad because I was being singled out as a student with a disability and she was forcing me to hand over a device that enhanced my mobility. My cane was an extension of my body at that time, because I wasn't strong enough to get very far without it. Eventually I had enough, it felt wrong, I wasn't comfortable handing over my cane and felt that I should be able to keep it with me as long as I didn't let anyone else touch it. The principal agreed, he told me that I should be able to keep with me as long as no one else touched it. The bus driver disagreed and still insisted I hand it over despite what the principal said. We argued for a minute and finally I gave it to her. I may have done so with a little bit of force, but I did not "assualt" her, as she said I did. I got in school suspension for the incident.

III. The Elevator and the Stupid Thing I Said That Almost Got Me Expelled.
The school I went to had two floors, so I was given an elevator key and I was allowed to take one friend on the elevator with me at a time (I made some new friends this way). The elevator emptied out on the first floor near a hallway where the 9th graders liked to congregate at the end of the day (the school contained 7th, 8th and 9th graders). I wasn't friends with any 9th graders, but apparently they knew a little about me. EVERYDAY I can remember there was someone there at the end of the day to call me one of those names I heard so frequently. I didn't internalize it, I did cry, and I didn't tell any teachers because I didn't know who the kids were. But it did make me really angry. One day after school I got off the elevator on the first floor with a friend from class. "Hey, peg leg, hehehe," I heard from the hallway, a few boys were there laughing at me and saying stupid words. As I started down the hall with my friend I say, not loudly or seriously, "I should start bringin a gun to school." And before I knew what I said a teacher was there, "Did you just say what I think you said?" (I'm fairly certain this was before Columbine, but I don't remember exactly when it happened). "They are there everyday calling me names," I said in my defense, apparently she never heard the things they said to me but she sure heard the word "gun." The next day I was suspended and I heard my mom talking about expulsion. I don't know if I was really going to be expelled, but I know my mom got me out of that school as soon as possible.

My new school was a lot smaller. No one knew my story, so I was able to tell it on my own terms. I don't remember being bullied once, I got along with everybody, and I finished 4th in my class (of 44). I guess this story is more about absurd "zero tolerance" policies that get kids in serious trouble for saying the word "gun" or bringing a butter knife to school with their lunch. I didn't have access to a gun, and anyone who knew me knew that was not something I would ever do. But it's also about schools not being proactive when it comes to students being harassed by other students, which is hopefully changing.

Stuff!

I have a ridiculous amount of stuff to do at work right now, but I just can't bring myself to do it. It's already hot outside and I feel like I should be at the beach. Also, my landlord emailed this morning that he's selling the condo we're living in! Which might actually work out well since we're leaving anyway, but it might also speed up the process. Which I'm fine with actually, since I'm ready to move to Philly now (at least mentally, I haven't like packed anything yet).

I'm visiting next weekend to hang out with my sister and explore the neighborhood she lives in (West Philly, the sketchy part), which I'm very excited about. I feel like I'm going to look at apartments online and stare out the window all day today instead doing any actual work.

Also, for those following my life (no one) with a vested interest in my health, I've started going to the gym! Or I've been twice, let's see how long it lasts!

timelines

I got a letter from UPenn yesterday with my ID # and instructions for creating a "Penn Key" to use their online services. I'm still waiting for the acceptance package with information about classes and such.

I'm planning a trip to visit my sister and the campus next month. A coworker is going to PA for a wedding and offered to drop me off in Philly. I've been browsing apartment and job listings. It's probably too early to take any action, but I'm really eager to get started. I don't want to put anything off until the last minute.

I'm in!

Yesterday I went home for lunch, and as I usually do I checked the mail on my way in. Underneath some dumb bill there was a letter from the University of Pennsylvania Graduate School of Education. The school I decided to apply to on a whim, sort of as practice, not really expecting to get in. The envelope seemed to contain multiple pages, they wouldn't send a multi-page rejection letter, right? My heart was beating really fast; I was afraid to open it. I opened it... and they accepted me! Holy crap! So now I'm making a list of all the things I have to do to get there. School starts in September, so that gives us (Nate and I) around five months to get our shit together. I need to fill out the FAFSA, like yesterday. We'll need to find a place to live, a place to work, etc. We need to start saving every penny. So much is going to change! This is so awesome!

Now that I have a something like this to look forward to, I've decided to make it the theme for this blog. Getting to Penn and then being at Penn. I'll keep you updated on my progress because I know how interested you are.

blowing all my money on tattoos and hookers

Well, maybe not hookers. ow that I have a "real" job I can afford to get tattoos! It's awesome. I'm so professional. I just got back from off the map to see the anchor/whale that Chloe drew up for me. I like it. I'm getting it next week. It's based on elements of a drawing Nate did for me, which is this:



The tattoo version of that would take up my whole back, so I decided to start small. We both thought the anchor might work better as a separate tattoo. Chloe drew this:



Which I am going to get next week on the inside of my arm to compliment what I already have there, which I got touched up about a month ago:

half my life

I suppose most people who come close to death at some point in their lives feel as though they've remained on earth for some reason. God or the universe decided that it's "not your time" or something. I used have stronger feelings about that than I do now, but I still feel that I have a job to do, in some sense. I need to help people or something. Share my experiences, use my mistakes and triumphs to teach others. I just called Shriner's hospital to inquire about volunteering, but of couse the woman I wanted to talk to has the day off. It is a holiday.

Today more than any other day I think too much. I force myself to remember things I'd rather not. Trying to put together faces and rooms and de-fog my memories from that time period. Twelve years ago today my right leg was removed as a last resort to save my life. The pills I took on February 12, 1998 with two of my then-best friends had poisoned my body, and the poison was concentrated in that leg. The muscles couldn't be saved. I don't really remember anything for about week after that day. I woke up with tubes everywhere and stump wrapped in bandages. And, truth be told, I wasn't upset about my leg, at least not at that moment. I thought I was dead. And then slowly I woke up and I wasn't dead. I was alive and my whole family was around me. Sure, I was pretty fucked up; tubes coming out of both ends, looking like a skeleton, and this stump where my leg used to be-- but I wasn't dead.

And now it's twelve years later, and what am I doing? I have an office job, a boyfriend, live in a nice progressive community... but I feel like I should be doing more. I should be famous by now, shouldn't I? People should have heard my story and been inspired, right? I should be writing other stories, and working with kids, and teaching people.

Why do I feel like my life has some special meaning?

This is my first post

I decided to start a blog because it seemed like the thing to do, and I want to start writing more. This could be a mix of telling about my day, interesting conversations, funny things I see at the store, or more creative writing about whatever I feel like.

I'll start with something funny I saw at Target, to keep things light. The toy below costs $14.



Kids are getting so uncreative. It appears to be pieces of plastic that kids can strap to their feet to slide across the carpet. Again, it costs $14. But it does "make any carpet fun" so, y'know, must be totally worth the money. Whatever happened to sliding across the floor in your socks? I guess that doesn't really help if you have wall-to-wall carpet in your house, but come on... $14 for pieces of plastic? Also, this game sounds dangerous. A kid could slide into the TV and the TV could fall on him and crush him. But look how much fun that kid is having!