new blog.

My latest adventures will now be found at http://www.kangaroopants.blogspot.com.

Peace.

Sarah "in the Bronx" no more.

As I am no longer pursuing life "in the Bronx" I will be putting this blog to rest. Part of the healing process, I suppose. But fear not, dear hearts, as I will be creating a new post to track other forthcoming adventures.

I will always treasure your comments on this space and look forward to sharing--with hope--greener pastures quite soon.

Stay tuned,

Sarah in Transit

In which the epitaph is longer.

"What do you do with a B.A. in English,
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college and plenty of knowledge,
Have earned me this useless degree.

I can't pay the bills yet,
'Cause I have no skills yet,
The world is a big scary place.

But somehow I can't shake,
The feeling I might make,
A difference,
To the human race."

- Avenue Q



humbled.

Change.

My Yahoo Horoscope reads the following:

Leo (7/23-8/22)
"Take a more difficult route than everyone else. A hard journey rewards handsomely."

Figures. I have come to the decision to withdraw from the Fellows Program. I love working with kids, but I do not love teaching them English. I've been very unhappy in this position not just because I'm working at a very difficult school but because my career choice what not the correct fit. I want to be a camp counselor or a child mentor and work with lower stakes:one-on-one attention and maximizing fun rather than test scores.

It's difficult not to see this move as a failure. I tried something new, it didn't work out, so I quit. Quit. Did you ever realize how much energy you must exert to say the word "quit?" The one-syllable word packs quite the onomatopoeic punch. But I know that I've thought this decision through and have derived at the healthiest choice.

Sure, I have little clue as to where I'll be in two weeks, but for once I'm trying to follow God's plan and not my own. Here goes...

She takes a Deep Breath.



Or a million.

On Friendship: A Divergence from the World of Teaching.

Doing a lot better since my latest breakdown of anger and depression. Thank you to all of you who left comments or talked out the situation with me. Really. Thank you. I have not always been able to admit it, but I need friends and I need community. It's easy to brush off NYC with all of its hustle bustle and aparent busy-ness, but there really are some decent people here. I jsut need to be more intentional about making relationships happen instead of waiting for them to come to me as I am so often inclined to do.

I haven't always been a great friend. I use people until I'm bored with them and then move on to something that I think will provide more flashes or excitement. This sounds harsh, but I'm "Dead Ass Serious," as my students would say.

I trace my friendship issues back to when by childhood best friends Thomas, Julian, Ben, and Max all moved out of my neighborhood within a year and a half of one another leaving me friendless and disheartened. (I also theorize that these abrupt departures are directly linked to my inability to secure any kind of lasting romantic relationship.) It hurt. It hurt a lot. And so, I grew some tough skin rarely tried to make relationships work.

Take a look at a memo on friendship I wrote while studying in Oregon last year. I was pretty damn proud of myself during the piece' composition, but I look back on the moment and cringe. Mind you, this wasn't some isolated journal entry. I delivered this piece to my roommates and a small group of classmates within but one week of our meeting. So here it is--unedited and untouched--revealing all its naive glory.

I’ll Be Your Stranger
-But don’t even attempt to become my BFF.

For the most part, I am a horrible friend. I will forget (often consciously) to keep in touch with you, I’ll get antsy during our long and serious conversations about God and global happenings, I won’t be nice to your friends who make me feel uncomfortable, and if you try talking on the phone with me for more than ten minutes I will likely start to doodle or flip on the tellie because I just won’t like not seeing your face or straining my ears to hear you on your cell phone as your drive through the dead spots of Route 30 and then strike up a simultaneous conversation with the kid at the pharmacy checkout corner who just gave you the wrong pills. Oh yeah, did I mention that I’m impatient and live live live in Sarah Time? You probably can’t keep up and as my omniscient self already knows so don’t even try (unless, of course, you appreciate staring my ass as opposed to my cute little face). Are you beginning to get the picture? And honey if you don’t, then our friendship certainly will not endure through the ages or whatever other crappy and clichéd phrase you’d steal off Grandma’s bookmark to attempt a rescue mission on an already damned relationship.

You probably think I’m a cynical pessimist after reading this and never want me to baby sit your kids ever again, but I must be honest with both you and myself here: I love spending time with my family, pets, and a select group of intimate friends, and I’m not afraid of flying solo as I can probably make myself laugh harder than you ever could. And as you already think I’m some psychogirl with emotional issues I have absolutely no qualms in admitting this pleasure. I’ve tried the BFF track before and recognize that it just does not fit my build. I am sorry if this manifesto offends your chosen lifestyle; just think of it as but another topic of conversation for you and your bestest BFFs to gossip the hell out of during the next twenty million of your abysmal togethers.

Okay, so I’ve shared a part of me that has (obviously) grown callous over the years as a result of middle school hang-ups and college-age let downs. My words may come as a shock to average person who knows me because “That smiling girl just seemed so friendly when we first me.” But I’m a sometimes introvert and tend to keep the majority of my emotions hidden from the outside world, bottled up inside my being until my true self is set loose by the re-opening of childhood wound or by, oh, let’s see, a no-restrictions writing assignment. I don’t see myself as living a false life because I sincerely do enjoy getting to know new people and sharing experiences with them, but I’ve made the realistic, conclusive observation that neither this day nor the next contain all the hours needed for me to become the friend you want me to be so I’d rather not disappoint you and make you feel like poopy when I return to my family and abandon you and your dreams of BFFhood. All I can offer—with complete assurance-is to be your stranger. As strangers, we can still do all the things that friends do. You want to romp in the meadows and tell me about your trip to Australia? I’m your girl. I’ll even look at all 350,000 photos you took of the same damn koala bear because I love you as a person. But don’t expect to see me at the class reunions or summer parties. We had our fun and it was more than great. I thank you for those experiences. But let’s preserve that and let it be. I have to go feed my cats.


And this is but one of many un-fine moments. However, as this forum is not such place for all of the apologies I need to make...Signing off. Thanks again.

Maybe this is simply due to my recent obsession with Twilight, but maybe it's something more.

Can't get the following song out of my head. Thought I'd share.

Flightless Bird, American Mouth
by Iron & Wine

I was a quick wet boy, diving too deep for coins
All of your street light eyes wide on my plastic toys
Then when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long baby hair
Stole me a dog-eared map and called for you everywhere

Have I found you
Flightless bird, jealous, weeping or lost you, American mouth
Big pill looming

Now I'm a fat house cat
Nursing my sore blunt tongue
Watching the warm poison rats curl through the wide fence cracks
Pissing on magazine photos
Those fishing lures thrown in the cold
And clean blood of Christ mountain stream

Have I found you
Flightless bird, grounded, bleeding or lost you, American mouth
Big pill stuck going down

PMS Everyday or What in the Hell Was I Thinking?!?

I've been crying lately. A lot. Alone in my room where no one can see just how blotchy red my nose gets. At church during a song that reminds me of the Diocese of Central PA and its people. When the work week ends and I have two minutes to stop and reflect on my transitory life.

Perhaps I ought to pray more.
Perhaps I ought to exercise more.
Perhaps I ought to start taking my anxiety/depression medication again.
Perhaps I ought to stop reading Chick-Lit that makes me feel empty.
Perhaps I ought to stop listening to depressing Sarah McLachlan music.

Perhaps I've chosen the wrong career.


Perhaps I have PMS Everyday.

After a very difficult week of extra Monday-like and Friday-like days (given the holiday on Tuesday) I feel raw, broken, and exposed. Oh, and I have some kind of virus in my throat which marks my first hint of illness in over 2 years.

What in the hell was I thinking when I decided to become a teacher? How could I possibly fathom that teaching twelve and thirteen year old students in the Bronx would be anything like teaching English to eager Chinese students, creating theatre with teens in Harrisburg, or leading creek stomps at church camp. What the hell, Sarah?

What the hell.

Didn't you see this coming? Of course you did. But your naivete believed that your too-positive sense of life and fun could sustain your lessons. Way to go, kid. Good job at being overly confident. Once again.

Why ever did you accept a position at a school that was in the process of being phased out--one that recieved a "D" rating?!? Clearly the DOE has its reasons for closing down schools. Clearly, something was so inherently wrong with the administration of your current school that the DOE deemed it "past the point of no return." I mean, really! Come on now. You used to be intelligent. You used to take care of yourself.


I think I'll move to Australia.
And remain seven.

Forever.