Back in the saddle again...

Dating sucks. There's no denying it. And as you get older, it gets even worse. Most people my age have kids, are married (or divorced), and have put on a considerable amount of weight. Snagging a high-quality mate was starting to seem like a Herculean task. What was I going to do? Start internet-dating? No thank you.

And then it happened.

After months of building a friendship with someone I have known for over a decade, I realized that I was building more than simply a friendship. What I was building was a relationship.

While discussing our unplanned but satisfying union last night, the topic of how dating changes when you're 30 came up. No longer do you date on a whim. Time's a ticking. Every "boyfriend" is a much more likely contender for the title of "the one." No longer are looks that important. Sure, attractiveness is desired, but so is career, potential, income, and genetics. General usefulness around the house is also a plus. Can he cook? Can he fix things? Will he mind if I'm in my sweatpants at 5:30 in the evening? So many factors come into play that I never even considered 5 or 10 years ago.

The inverse relationship between age and dating pool is one that makes me question: do we reach a point where we just pick the best of what's left, or are we smarter and wiser in our dating decisions as we age? Am I more likely to "settle" because I'm getting older and the years in which I can conceive a child that does not run an inordinately high risk of having Downs Syndrome are waning? Or I am more aware of what will make me happy after many years of meeting people that, for some reason for another, just don't do it for me?

Do people eventually "settle" in lieu of living life alone? Am I settling? Does he feel like he is settling?

My answer to all of these is: I hope not. I can't afford a monthly membership to match.com anyway.

Here's to giving another relationship the good ol' college try.

For every breath, for every day of living - this is my Thanksgiving.

There's been this "thing" going around Facebook regarding giving daily thanks during the month of November. While I don't doubt that there are 30 things that I am thankful for, it's not quite my style to share my actual thanks with people that are mostly acquaintances or ex-students. If word got around that I actually have a soft side - a side that does things like "give thanks" and share feelings - my reputation would be ruined. And I absolutely can't have that happen.

So, in the spirit of "the Facebook challenge" but with a smaller, more intimate audience, I would like to officially declare my "thanks" of 2009.

I am thankful for the following:

• J and Danger - As a trial run to test out my maternal instincts, I don't think I've done too bad with them. If they are any indication of what having twin boys would be like, however, it looks like I'll have one stupid gay kid and one anti-social lazy-ass.
• Family - While I don't see them as much as I should (being within a 5 mile radius of them and all), it is nice to know that they're there. And the occasional free meals are pretty boss.
• Friends - Leaving behind my core group of friends in LA was devastating, and I haven't been the best at keeping in touch with them. But knowing that I once had such a strong support system of close friends is hope for the future. And I have a few friends here that are towing the line pretty solidly.
• Job - I am one of the few people I know who has TWICE moved without knowing that a job was waiting at the destination. And while technically I got my current job before I trekked cross-country, I did put in my notice and begin the process of relocation before I even had a hint of a job. So I'm pretty thankful for my stellar good luck in the employment department.
• Health - As bad as I have been to my body, this has been a great year for me. Not only did I lose 30 pounds, but my glucose, cholesterol, bmi, and blood pressure are all within healthy ranges. And although I almost completely chopped off the side of my pinky, it's healed well and I am still whole. Success.

And while I am listing things I am thankful for, let's not forget the little things that make each day bearable:

• On-Demand - I can't rave about it enough. Genius.
• Cheez-Its - Quite possibly the best in-bed snack ever.
• Happy Hour - What would motivate to work all week if I didn't think a sweet, tasty beverage was waiting for me on Friday?
• Mix CDs - I received 10 quality mix cds this year, all which have a guaranteed spot in my daily music rotation.
• Healthy Choice - Takes all of the guess work out of what to eat for lunch.
• 8th graders - They're pretty cute, and super respectful. Now if they would just hit puberty, their voices might be tolerable.
• Internet - Seriously, what would I do with, like, 3 hours of each day if I couldn't stalk people online or google ridiculous questions I have?
• Snuggling - Not as overrated as I once believed.

And while I am sure that there are infinitely more things to be thankful for, right now I'm just thankful to be alive, and that I only have one more day of work this week.

Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run...

I get really depressed in the winter. Not depressed like I want to slit my wrists, but depressed like all I want to do is sit on my couch in my sweatpants and be a hermit. I associate winter with loneliness, although it's not always and altogether negative.

My first winter in New York was the worst. I was newly single after a whirlwind first semester with a college romance and a bustling social life. I felt horribly alone in a city with very few friends, and was seriously contemplating transferring schools and coming back home. So, I sat at my desk by the window in my dorm and worked - constantly - while listening to Elton John and Billy Joel and feeling terribly sorry for myself. I was at least a week ahead in all of my classes. But as productive as I was, I was incredibly unhappy.

When the cold sets in, I unconsciously revert back to those memories. My first winter away from home is the hardest one to forget. And while each winter I try to create new memories associated with the cold, hoping the new synapses in my brain will overpower the old, I cannot help but think back to that cold and lonely winter of 1999, which isn't so terribly different from most of my winters since. And that's was most depressing.

Sigh.

4...3...2...1

I almost killed a handful of kids today. No joke.

I have been feeling uncharacteristically stressed these days, and it's really starting to take a toll on me. Between trying to predict the math budget for next year, establishing a "core curriculum" in each class offered by the school, and accomplishing the general day-to-day requirements of being a teacher, I am feeling the mental and physical effects of stress unlike any I have felt in years.

And today was the breaking point.

For those of you that think that teaching is what people do when they can't "make it," keep a few things in mind. First, my lessons are all hand-crafted. There is no "big bank" of lessons to pull from, or notes to steal off the internet. I painstakingly handcraft each of my lessons, complete with handouts and an interactive white board flipchart. Second, I put thought into how I teach a concept. I bait the students with rhetorical questions until they come up with the theorem or rule. I try to teach them to learn through exploration and questioning.

So when a group of students won't stop asking questions, or commenting about someone's questions, or shouting out random shit, it makes it impossible for me to get to the punchline. I can't teach if I never get a chance to talk interrupted.

::Breathe::

After only getting through half of my lesson in 40 minutes, especially when I accomplished the task in 35 minutes three prior times today, I took matters into my own hands. I contacted the parents.

God bless the parents. They have emailed me (one even stopped by my classroom) to apologize and to say that they are going to take care of it on their end. They say that they support me in whatever discipline route that I choose to take, and that they want to know if there is anything in the future they can do to help me out.

So although they can't help me with my budget, or my curriculum, or devising and typing my daily notes, at least I know that this matter is hopefully one of the past.

And maybe tomorrow I won't have to cackle like a crazy person in lieu of losing my cool and throwing things at the kids' heads. Yes, I cackled. And yes, I'm sure it was quite frightening.

It's a kind of magic...

Yesterday I embarked upon a mini "road-trip" with three crazy ladies (mom, aunt, and granny). The destination: Victoria. The purpose: a Celebration of Life.

I don't do well at funerals. To be completely honest, I am usually a mess. And I've never lost anyone close to me. The fact that I lose control of my emotions so easily at funerals makes me never want to attend them. But a Celebration of Life - the anti-funeral - is something I can definitely get on board with.

The sun shone brightly. The air was crisply comfortable. The park served as the ideal location for the planting of symbolic oak trees. Relatives gave speeches regarding the qualities the deceased possessed. Sure, it was sad. But discussion regarding how one's life has, and will continue, to positively affect the lives of others was uplifting. The Celebration took the loss associated with death and transformed it into a collection of memories associated with life.

When I die, which will hopefully be later rather than sooner, I hope that my family and friends will do something similar. If I had my way, my body would be buried in the middle of nowhere sans embalming chemicals and grow one with the earth. Return to whence I came, I say. But since it's illegal, maybe scattering my ashes on a wind farm is a better idea.

Nonetheless, I hope that after I'm gone I, too, will be celebrated for my memories and not mourned for what could have been. Life is brief. And fleeting. And we can't change that. What we can do is to come together and share in the knowledge that we're all changed because of the deceased and the legacy left behind.

It was a beautiful ceremony. And I think Dale would have approved of how his life was remembered - how it was celebrated.