In the loin

I am subbing for a language school, and my students were complaining about their "hotel." It's in the very tender part of the tender-knob, and well, they don't feel safe. Fair enough. And I kinda made fun of them for living in a crappy neighborhood. I did resist telling them Kelle's severed head story. Despite being kinda dangerous for foreigners because they look and act like foreigners and foreigners might as well walk around with giant piggy banks for heads. But despite all that, I sent them on a crappy neighborhood tour. That they are not allowed to do alone. Or after 9 o'clock. I've never had any problems, but then again, I don't have a giant piggy bank for a head. I reek of (project?) small town poverty.

Shalimar - Food because it is ph-in delicious
Bourbon and Branch - Drinks because it is fun
Great American Music Hall - Music because it'll make them feel better about where their hotel is?

Phil and I are going to see Delta Spirit tonight. It is good to be back in the city.  Oh yes, it's good.

We're Heading Back Up North!

Phil has officially accepted his offer and will be starting his Creative Writing MFA at the University of San Francisco. I have officially relayed that I will not be continuing with the school I am currently working for. Now to tie up the loose ends.

It will be nice to take a break from the whole ESL thing for a bit. I've been teaching way too much grammar as of late. The words in my sentences are starting to look like car parts that need to be properly placed.

What I should have learned in the SOE

This with a pinch of that.

I kid. I kid. Kinda

Rainy Day in LA

It's raining in LA, which means it will be beautiful tomorrow. It also means that today was, to say the least, unproductive. We had big plans to check out the flea market down the street, but alas, no such luck. We splurged and went out for breakfast at a little diner down the street. We have quite a few tasty breakfast places within walking distance round here. It's one of the joys of our little neighborhood.

Phil got some rejection letters from his MFA applications today - sad face externally - internally, secretly glad we won't be relocating to either Iowa or Michigan. Be sure to send happy thoughts for University of Oregon, San Francisco State, and University of CA, Irvine. (But not too many for Irvine, heh) It's been interesting balancing my wants and desires with the writing programs that Phil is in love with. I'm 100% supportive, and where ever he wants to study, we're going, but then there is the other part of me that really, really wants to get the hell out of South California. And there was that other part of me that really, really didn't want to move to Iowa. Other then that, 100% supportive...

Perhaps I should adjust my percentage a tad.

Sorting Through Applications

We have to hire a new teacher for the center, and though it is not my job, nor am I qualified to do so, interviewing has been shoved into my lap. I sometimes get the feeling that my boss feels like pushing her crap onto me is a reward.

You're doing a great job, and you know that program so well, so here, you take care all of this shit for me, because I'm so impressed with what you've done so far. I really trust you, so I'm willing to let you do all the interviewing by yourself. If I can, I'll listen in on the telephone.

Really, you like, me? I will do that thing.

And now to absorb responsibility in the situation, I acquiesce, because it needs to get done, and if I let my boss's schedule determine interviews I will run myself into the ground. As much as I love teaching, I do not enjoy working 10 hour days to be stupid far behind on the things I need to be doing. So there, all whining aside, it's my own damn fault.

So let the vetting games begin. I was openly mocking one candidate because the person shortened Craig's List to cl in their cover letter. Phil said I was a) harsh and judgemental b) a dinosaur. (Is there any other kind?) He told me no one calls it Craig's List - it's not even capitalized on the website. Today, I called said candidate for an interview. After saying he couldn't write the address down, he asked me to email him. OK. Part of my elitist self was like, seriously, someone is trying to situate you with gainful employment, and you can't write it down? But with my lovely, forgiving better-half rattling around in my brain HARSH! DINOSAUR!, I smiled and said sure. Of course, I said. So I sent out the email, and he replied with a thank you. Unfortunately, that email said, "Alli,". He shortened my name. A nickname that I do not associate with work or work things, but a name that is home, history, friends, family and nostalgia.

This was my conversation with my computer screen:

What the what?!? You don't know me, motherf(*%#%!

I know it is a bit ridiculous, but it irked me. It really irked me. While I know it is impossible to retract my interview invitation(not impossible; I really want to write back and say my name's not Alli - TO YOU - jk about the inter., but I won't, because I do have some sense of propriety), all I can say is this person better poop the cure for cancer.

I sorta lied

In the previous post, I said I like my job. That is just not true. I like teaching. That is an important distinction to make at the moment.

Where do you live? That is an excellent question

Phil has a man-date, er men-date with his friends this evening. A virtual one. They are playing Counter Strike via PS3. We've been living in LA for about 5 months, and I have genuinely made no effort to connect to the town or the history or the people here. This is also known as pissing away your precious youth late twenties. I've been aware of this in the non-chalant, I mention it to my friends, in my self-depreciating sad, sorry sack talks. I like to call it socal social hibernation.

The reality of how bad the social hibernation had gotten was when Phil was listing things that I could do while he was on his men-date. This list of things could better be described as one thing and a long furrowed-brow pause. His suggestion was, "You can catch up on some work, or..............................................................." I mean, I like my job, and planning for class is fun and interesting to geek out on, but that was all he could come up with. Holymotherofbob, it might be time to start living in LA.