Wow, it's been awhile. I've tried to read some of you and comment, but the days just keep swishing by so quickly. Let's see if I can condense a week and a half into one post.
one bottle of 60+ spf
intended for baby's skin
four hours in the sun
at orchard beach
on labor day
a significant increase in freckles
and a peeling nose
Easier week last week. There were only three days of classes, so I managed to stay ahead of the game. The students, for the most part, are really great. There is only one student that is driving me nuts, and she deserves a post all her own. Coming soon to a blog near you. Cause I'll have to blog about her in some safe way if I want to stay sane.
First department faculty meeting wednesday. The dept. chair introduced all the new faculty. First, he got all my info from my CV incorrect. I didn't correct him, as that seemed like a bad thing to do publicly. And every other person he introduced had finished their dissertation or published something since being hired. Except me. My office mate successfully defended her diss on thursday -- accepted as is, no revisions.
I am still the great pretender. I aspire to intellect, insight, academia. But I am not there. I only pretend. And live in fear that they will find out what a fraud I am.
After the meeting, I was asked by a fellow faculty to help co-advise the human services student club. She is expecting a baby and will be out next semester, so I will take over advisement while she's on maternity leave. We'll co-advise again when she returns. It's a positive in terms of service to the college, and I'll get to know the students better as well.
I walked from work to grand central last thursday. It was perhaps a bit warm for the walk (it took 1.5 hours), but there was a good, cool wind whipping through the side streets. Every time I came to a corner, that breeze was there to cool my body. It was rough. I'm totally out of shape and have very little stamina, thanks to the anticoagulant. My feet hurt. My joints -- hips, knees, and feet -- felt it. But I made it. And that weekend, I was down three pounds from the weekend before.
I absolutely love walking through manhattan. Everyone was out, kicked back in places like herald square, with a cool drink in hand. I want to be one of those, who can hang in the square and then be home in a short subway ride. Instead of a 45 minute train ride. I will be one day.
First paychecks always mean dinner out to celebrate. Even if the check was direct deposited, rather than put into my hot little hand. Friday was a first paycheck day.
For us, a celebration means Casa Maya on Central Park Avenue in weschester. I know it's a chain restaurant, but I know mexican food, and they do it the best.
Carne asada. A thinly sliced, grilled skirt steak. They do it better than anyone else. And it's served with a cheese enchilada, with mole sauce. And they know mole sauce like nobody's business. Slightly sweet, mingling with the slightly salty cheese. And the carne, served with a little bit of pico de gallo and guacamole.
If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to skip the sour cream. If the food is good, all sour cream does is mask the tastes of good cooking. Instead, use the tiniest bit of pico de gallo, and add a speck of the guacamole so that you have the mix of carne, tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and avocado in each bite. Ambrosia, pure and simple. And halfway through the meal, the mole begins to mingle with the guac and pico, and damn. It's almost better than sex. Really.
And if you've never tried fried ice cream....well, you've really had a deprived life then, haven't you?!
Sunday, at the movies. Death Sentence. The movie, not what I want to do to the couple who kept up a scene-by-scene commentary. After shushing them a couple of times only to get 'why are you shushing us, there's only two people here" in response, we were halfway through the movie and I'd missed some key conversations due to their white trash behavior. I was so mad, I actually publicly confronted them. Now if you know me, the last thing I want to do in public is draw attention to myself. And I hate confrontations. They leave me physically shaken. So it must have been pretty bad for the following to occur:
Would you two stop talking so the rest of us can enjoy the damned movie?
Said loudly enough to be heard throughout the theatre.
There are only two people here, why are you complaining? Move to the back of the theatre if it bothers you.
Well, there were seven people in the theatre, not that the number of people matters anyway, and I can't see the screen clearly from the back, and why the fuck should I move cause they won't shut the fuck up.
It doesn't matter where the hell I sit, it's a damned theatre. You don't talk in the theatre. If you want to talk, go outside.
Well, we were here first, said the woman, folding her arms across her ample chest with a huff, sitting back and ending the conversation, as though being here first meant they could do whatever the fuck they want.
They were quiet for three entire minutes before starting up again. I walked out of the theatre and right to the manager. Told her about the couple, and asked for a pass to come back and see the movie another time. I just couldn't sit there and try to watch it at that point. She sent an employee in to keep an eye on things and gave me my pass with profuse apologies.
I went back into the theatre to get my handbag and sweater, and noticed how quiet the couple were being while the employee was sitting there. Fuckers.
Only two days of classes this week, due to the jewish holiday. I brought all my texts home to use the time to get ahead in reading and lecture notes.
I walked again yesterday, going to grand central. It hurt a bit less than before, partly because I put these awesome dr. scholls high impact sports inserts in my walking shoes. The busyness and bustle keeps me going, although it's really hard not to stop and do things, like enjoy the concert in union square, or avoid going into the strand bookstore. But when I see the grand central building ahead, I really feel as though I've accomplished something.
It was sprinkling lightly throughout most of the walk, but I actually didn't care. I put my umbrella away, pulled my hair back, and walked in the mist and sprinkles, not caring how disheveled I looked.
You'll notice there's no comment about the MFD. That would be because I haven't figured out how to teach four courses and still have time for the diss. More on that later.
Remember the bloody week from hell? Well, I started 'spotting,' as we call it, yesterday. It's only been two weeks since the near deluge, and I'm spotting. I am terrified of what two weeks from now will bring.
Will you miss me if I bleed to death? Or will it be out of sight, out of mind?
A final note to you new yorkers. To those of you who were out walking with me, near me, bypassing me.
Don't trip/step on
my brand new
so expensive I had to charge it
but absofuckinglutely adore it
cause I can transport textbooks
lunch, dinner, dress shoes, sweater, umbrella
between office and home
without putting my freakin' back out
with a shoulder bag
briefcase on wheels.
See, when you're coming up behind me, I can't see you. It's your job to watch where the fuck you're going. So watch where you walk, and don't go stepping on the briefcase-that-I-adore, or I may just have to kick yer ass.
I can, you know.
And I will.