Monday, February 20, 2012

Throw Your Homework Onto the Fire

I have to be perfectly honest. I am struggling with something to write about. I have made a vow to myself to write weekly (at least) no matter what. But not much has happened. 

Friday I went to have a "girlie" drink called a Pink Lotus Martini- with two teacher friends.The drink contains cotton candy and alcohol, how can you go wrong? 

One of my fellow teacher friends has left teaching to write a book and is considering coming back next year. I tried to convince her not to come back because she will get sucked into "the vortex". 

The vortex is the addicting nature of teaching. You can become easily addicted to planning and plotting and the emotion of students and school life. It can become all-consuming.  At a certain point you forget who you are completely. It takes summer vacation or Christmas break to find your way back to yourself.

Other ways to avoid the vortex include hanging out late at Irish pubs and playing drunken tambourine--but I wouldn't know about that.

Just my little way of figuratively "throwing my homework onto the fire".

Take My Hand and Off We Stride
Roland and I managed to go to Hollywood last night after having dinner at a place called The Fish Market in Los Alamitos. It was kind of limiting because there simply was not much on the menu for a non fish eating person. So I opted for some pasta with vegetables.

 It was not so easy to feel motivated to head to Hollywood since we were both exhausted. I am the one who wanted to go. It was just that my mom was watching the two older boys and we rarely have the chance to go out on a Sunday and I just thought that it would be exciting perhaps to go to Hollywood to the Cat and Fiddle and listen to live music. I just wanted "music, people and they're young and alive", etc.

Why we were exhausted: Our day included, waking up at 5:30, spending five hours at a swim meet and then heading to Long Beach to sit through the parent portion of the sex ed class we have subjected Jovanny to, taking Oliver to violin, dropping him off in Tustin for a sleepover, then heading to Buena Park to my mom's, then heading to Los Alamitos and  Hollywood.

It seems like every time I go to an English pub in Los Angeles in the evening I am tired beyond belief. Before I was married I went to The King's Head in Santa Monica with my friends Moe and Richard. There was an English musician playing there-advertised on the board outside as "Britain's newest sensation." Of course I can't remember his name. 

Anyway, the music was anything but lively so I hung dearly onto a pillar while this musician played I think David Gray-like tunes- I was literally falling asleep standing up. I even began to slide down the pillar as I nodded off. Moe and Richard were kind of annoyed. 

I so wanted to feel even slightly daring and somewhat "cooler" last night by hanging out in Hollywood on a Sunday evening that it was possible to appear as if I was not secretly longing for the security and comfort of my pillows and blankets. I tried desperately not to think of how wonderful it would feel to just close my eyes and imagine the soft, cold comfort of my pillow.

We enjoyed the Cat and Fiddle, by the way. We sat outside in the courtyard drinking our beer and listening to a Latin Jazz improvisation and watching people. The fairly lights were up. Roland asked where it looked like where we were at and I had to say it looked like Spain-or what I think Spain looks like. Roland thought it looked like Disneyland-by the New Orleans Square area.

I took pictures but they did not come out well at all. I desperately want/need a new camera.

The ride home was a snap. It took us all of thirty minutes to get back to the OC. It always seems like LA is so far, but it isn't when there is no traffic. I did not see Rasputin, Jesus or Spiderman. Too bad.

As I was writing this blog earlier while listening to Smiths music, with Mozipedia beside me on the bed, my husband asked, "Don't you think you are a little obsessed?" Umm. No. No. Not at all!

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