A Good Man

A Good Man goes through life with no expectation of rewards or praise for the things they find should be common. They do not want the pomp and circumstance that comes with the deeds they do because its not what they were put on this Earth to do. They were not put on this earth to take medals and prizes, they are here for the people and progress of humanity.  A good man does everything for someone or something else, dedicating his values to the needs and desires of those he serves in what ever way that he finds serves the many. No matter the days, the hours, or service, a good man is always there for his people.

It seems today, i see less and less good men in this world. Too many spotlights pointed on people who don’t need them, too many awards for people who only served themselves. Too much stolen glory that the good men didn’t want, yet deserved, be given to the lackluster members of humanity. These are not good men of whom i write about.

Its not a sin for a good man to take some credit in some instances, its not a sin for a good many to accept some of the glory that comes with life. Its a sin when you don’t attempt to recognize their efforts of being a good man once in a while. Even if its minimal, its something for us to give back to them.

This past weekend, it was veterans day.

flight sky sunset men
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A day where we honor those men, and women, for their service in the armed forces of our land and for our people. This day, is our way of saying thank you.  These good men and women never asked for praise, glory, or medals. They signed up to serve there nation without complaint, without thought, but with all the sacrifice. From the greatest generation, to Korea, Vietnam, and the Gulf Wars and everything in between, they didn’t sign up to fight wars, they signed up to protect us from enemies foreign and domestic.

They signed up to be Patriots.

My entire family served, from Dad and all the way up. Navy and Army. Two legendary branches. There was a time even when for Christmas and thanksgiving that there was always one Gill deployed, the holidays weren’t complete. But they were and are good men. My father is a good man. He helps where he can, teaches when he can, and loves no matter what. He never asks for praise, never takes the glory of extra money when he provides for others, and he never asks for anything in return. A good man you see. Although he will never read this, my navy boy dad will be one of my examples of what it means to be a good man in these days where i can not seem to find people like this anymore. I have known great men.

In addition to veterans day, it is also a day of sorrow. Its a day where i remember another good man. Today is a day where a good man got called home.

Now, i don’t say much to outsiders about Brother Oxx simply because remembering hurts too much, it stings the fingertips as i write these words down on digital paper. He was a man who could command a room of testosterone fueled high school boys with a simple look. Not many people earn the respect like that in a lifetime.  He was the one in our darkest hours, both as a community and our personal matters, whom we looked up to and asked for guidance when we could not see ahead of ourselves. He, one of the best men i have ever known. Unfortunately, time waits for no man. No matter how good he or she is.

Br Oxx passed away almost six years ago on November 12th 2012. Not a day goes by without me missing him in some way.

In recent years, i find myself stumbling upon  asking a question that pops in my head.

“Am i a Good Man? “

i always ask myself what makes me good in the eyes of the world, especially with so much to live up to, especially after these great men i have in my life. i sometimes feel as if i can not compare to them and that i don’t measure up. I feel as if i can not contribute to what is already good in this world. Even tho i am told by people that i am kind in a world of hate and i am caring in times where it is overlooked, i feel i do not do enough to be a good man. I know to measuring a mans worth is never a good idea, but i like to know my worth is, so i can see that i am on the right path, the good path, to becoming a better man.

But these men that i have known, who have set an example for myself and all those who come after them, i hope they have an express ticket to heaven, for they have done well in life and deserve so much.

For they, in my eyes, are good men

and in the darkest of times,

good men shall always rise.

Another Day, Another Bullet

It happened again,

Another shooting.

Why does his happen every time, to people who don’t deserve it?

The families that now have to bury young men and women, and an officer who lived up to the code of the badge and gave everything. It pains too many people too often to see this happen again, again and again. We wont see any change anyways, we know the cycle all too well. Shock, mourn, argue, #neverforget, forget, mass shooting, repeat. It’s like a broken repeat button on God’s iPhone and He forgot the pass code to turn it off. Even after the recent elections, i still wonder if we will have any real change from anyone that is suppose to serve us. Not the gun organizations.

If you were like me, the news doesn’t phase you as easily as it use to. I don’t find sadness in the shock or grief in the first-hand accounts. “Oh well wasn’t me” is the casual mindset we have today, its a set in stone ideal that has become known as the common practice like its a religion or something. It needs to stop now. The lesson that we are taught needs to be refused and a change has to be made.

As young Americans, we walk around in fear of what could happen to us. We are no longer safe in theaters, malls, bars, for crying out loud we aren’t even safe in a school. A SCHOOL!! But this is the norm? this is the narrative we want to live with? Why can we not practice safety and sanity once in a while, i am telling you change is not always bad. We need to be protecting our youth, ourselves, and everyone around us.

Now i like to say this is not a total anti-gun rant.

My opinion, in general, is very grey area, middle of the road thoughts. I believe we the average american do not need assault rifles, automatic weapons, or anything that is crazy above the norm. However, i believe that people deserve the opportunity to posses a handgun, something within reason. I know there are good people who take the consistent safety class, hours of classroom and range work, and they understand that although a right, it is not something that should be put above the lives of others.  Its the people that put guns above lives that need to be changed. My opinion is not popular, on either side, and ill probably get some strong worded calls and texts after reading this, but its what i believe and isn’t it fair to let me make my peace in this crazy world?

In the end, this blog that me and all of my fellow writers try to write about and express our opinions is about adulting and being very, very awkward about it. But what rulebook change or memo did we miss that adulting had to include mass shootings and fearing to leave our homes just because someone couldn’t put a life above a gun?

What i ask of those reading this, is do something to change this crazy dilemma, be the deciding factor. Get involved to make a good change not just change because you can. Make it change that helps that is good and just. Just stop sitting by the wayside waiting for it to happen.

 

I don’t have any more words to write for you today, no more thoughts,

but maybe you have some actions for me?

 

 

NaNoWriMo and the Realization Why I Have Never Finished a Book

At any given time I am both – the most trustworthy person you will ever meet and the one person who can’t keep her mouth shut or her nose out of it. Call it the writer in me – but in other words, I always have a story to tell, and I am always willing to tell it – but at the same time – if you ask me to say nothing, I will. With one exception – my rules of speech follow those of a therapist. I will not say a word – UNLESS you are a harm to yourself or others. [and I find this to be a fair clause]

But, my friends, I do not come to you today because I have a secret to tell – or a story, but rather to say that I have a secret that I cannot tell. A new project that will take up my free time until the month of November has met its end.

This month, like in the past I am participating in National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo for short. In this, I will attempt to finally finish a book or – at the very least- a draft, in 31 days. In other words, I have 31 days to write 50,000 words – and I am only 11,000 in on day 8 – aka – I am already behind…

So at this point, you may be thinking one of three things:

  1. Rachel, why do I care?
  2. Why are you wasting your word count time on this blog (not a waste)
  3. Get to the point

well to #1 I say – if you’re a writer, a reader or a friend, you love me so shut up – #2 it is not a waste because I have some advice to share that will be seen below – and #3 here it is

The other day I got a piece of Nano Mail and while I never read my messages on there, I decided to change habits. To my most pleasant surprise, there was this quote among the advice and it is something that has both intrigued me and shown me that I need to change the way I treat myself, my dreams and my writing. It read :

Resist the urge to tell friends and family your story. I know it’s hard because you want to talk about it and they’re (sometimes) interested in hearing about it. But writers have a dirty little secret: We are mainly motivated by our desire for people to experience our stories. We want an audience. We need it.

Telling your story to friends verbally satisfies that need for an audience, and it diminishes your motivation to actually write it. So make a rule: The only way for anyone to ever hear about your stories is to read them. You can still give it to them chapter by chapter—so you get the sweet, sweet external validation that you crave during the process. But no telling the story outside the pages. – Andy Weir

The above quote has since inspired me to do something I rarely do with my writing, keep my mouth shut.

I realized that in telling people my stories all these years I have eliminated the need to write it down. Which explained why – despite my only goal in life since sophomore year of high school (other than finding the love of my life because media is a sham that has conned me into thinking my life is a rom com) was publishing the next great American novel. Or at the very least – the next great Rachel Novel.

Anyway – I know I lost my flow but to all you writers out there, I hope this helps and I hope you don’t lose your story. Right now I don’t have time to make the blog pretty but I do have a book to write!

We’ve got 23 days left in this year’s challenge so let’s go for the gold!


 

Capturesage
a sneak peek at the front cover to be

the time between the end and the real world

You ever think about how, one day, years ago, you and your friends went out and had the last day of your official childhood, but no one actually knew it at the time?

Can you think back and guess which day you think that was for you?

It’s like suddenly, you wake up and surprise, you’re an adult.  The refrigerator doesn’t magically fill itself with food, and you may even need to start ironing your own clothes.

I think about the idea of past, and future lives.  How there are those that believe we will come back one day to start a new life, as a human, or an animal, or an alien of some sort.  Or that in our current lives, we are the reincarnation of someone from history, and we were them, and now are living our next life (maybe those are the voices we hear in our heads? or the people we see in dreams we don’t recognize?)

And how now we have the expression “living my best life” and I wonder if we can really say that with confidence.

I think if we were to live again, it would be like waking up after childhood.  I imagine waking up one day as a teenager and just moving along with life, “ready” to be an adult, not really thinking about what has come before then.

black and white photo of clocks
Photo by Andrey Grushnikov on Pexels.com

Biologically, the majority of people can remember events as far back as when they were just 3 years old, but those memories only come in spurts of very memorable, single instances.  Our long-term memory just does not have the capacity for anything further back plus everything else we have experienced.  So I suppose it makes sense that we don’t really remember our past lives, if we had any.

As a result, I’m calling this current year of my life “the time between the end and the real world,” because I am trying to savor the last bits of what I think could be my childhood, despite being considered a young adult by everyone around me.  Because if I really won’t remember any of this in my next life, I should really just live it up now.

But maybe, just maybe, there can be a bit of an overlap.  Where my childhood hasn’t ended yet, but I start up my adult responsibilities anyway.  Because is it really a requirement to grow up?

Where I start to contribute to society and others around me, but can still have some fun and enjoy those Disney movies and dressing up in silly costumes for Halloween.

Maybe the people we used to be actually strengthen who we are today.  Maybe those personalities come together and shape each person we become – they are the mold to our bodies and we play through our childhood until we are fully formed, ready to create a new personality for our future self.

Why do we need to have a time limit on childhood?  Why can’t we have a little warning before my friends and I go out for our final “play date,” jump in the leaves, or bike ride around the neighborhood?

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I think the time between the end and the real world is almost like a reflection period of our childhood.  Should I have spent more time listening to the birds chirping, making snow angels, swinging on the playground, or having water balloon fights?

Maybe, in my next life, I can do that more often.  And then maybe, when I hit this point next, I’ll think of some other things I should have done before “leaving childhood” and start this loop all over again.

For now, I’ll try to live my best life yet.

Boston Medios Rojas: To Be Proud of My City from Afar

“Medios Rojas Gano!!!”

I was walking through the streets with my Boston Celtics hat and every person would talk to me about the beauty of the “Medios Rojas” and how they won the World Series.

Each time, I couldn’t help but smile. Even this far away, I still keep this as a small piece of home. I streamed each game through Facebook, random apps, or if I got lucky, there’d be a good stream on Reddit available that day.

Boston is a city of winners. There’s a big fan base of Basketball and Baseball here in Colombia, and Football is growing as well. The names of our stars, Larry Bird, Paul Pierce, David Ortiz, Tom Brady, Kyrie Irving, Mookie Betts. They’re all recognizable here.

Whenever I introduce myself to people, and tell them that I went to college relatively close to Boston, they can’t help but wow in awe. At times, it makes me respect the place where I spent a lot of my formative years a little bit more. I spend hours on end talking about the T, dysfunctionality and all, it is still an amazing form of transportation. Late nights spent at Insomnia Cookies, the rush of energy flowing out of TD Garden, the sites and sounds just walking through the city. Watching the duckboats go by, passing the time away at the aquarium or abandoning your friends at the Museum of Science a little bit after midnight. Having a heart to heart in the parking lot of Tasty Burger. These are the memories that I cherish about Boston as well.

As big and famous as it is, I think Boston has a special niche to it that will always make it feel like home. It’s never too big to feel lost, but never too small. Congratulations Sox. Boston, you’ll always have a place in my heart. Until the next time we meet.

Music: The Universal Beats of the Heart

The Heart. It beats somewhere between 60 and 100 beats per minute for an adult over the age of 18. We all have one, regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, sex, religion, etc.

But why is this important?

We can’t always listen to what our heart is saying. That is where I believe that music comes in.

Music is a form of art that is not only able to be listened to, but comprehends and speaks to the heart, mind, and soul of a person. It simultaneously can uplift, motivate, help grieve, and at times is a reflection of who we are at our best and at our worst. Music therapy is also a growing field, which helps to prove how beneficial music is.

According to a study by Harvard Medical School, listening to music has a lot of health benefits such as improving exercise ability, easing stress, and help blood pressure levels as well as heart rate return to baseline quicker than when compared to studies where there is no music present.

Everything we do in life has a beat, a rhythm, as the keyboard clicks away, the fan spins away in the background, or the tires spin on the old Honda Accord. We’re surrounded by sound. Surrounded by music. All of us enjoy different sounds, reflective of who we are and who we want to be. Music isn’t just a part of life that we can enjoy, it’s with us every step of the way.

Study Here: https://www.health.harvard.edu/heart-health/tuning-in-how-music-may-affect-your-heart

To Be, or Not To Be American.

“Remember, remember always, that all of us, you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt.

To be, or not to be American. What does it all mean at the end of the day. To be American means to have the right to free speech, to bear arms, to practice religion without fear of persecution, to vote for what we believe in, but to believe in freedom and equality. This country was founded on the ideals of greatness, to lift ourselves up by our bootstraps and create something out of an opportunity. The rhetoric that is being spread throughout this country has been more toxic and more divisive than ever before. As an outspoken person, I usually have a lot to say, and have had a lot to say via Twitter, but never in a formalized format such as this.

Now, it’s personal.

I’m Kenney Tran. A child of two Vietnamese-American (now) citizens. I was born here, in America, with a passport, social security number, and a college education. I’m currently serving in the Peace Corps, another privilege that American citizens have. Yet despite all of this, my own citizenship is under attack. I get it, I’ve traveled a lot. But does that mean I should not be considered a person of my own country?

The concept of birth right citizenship isn’t unique to America, contrary to what our President has been saying, as a matter of fact, there’s a beautiful list.

Antigua and Barbuda, Argentina, Barbados, Belize, Bolivia, Brazil, Canada, Chile, Cuba, Dominica, Ecuador, El Salvador, Fiji, Grenada, Guatemala, Guyana, Honduras, Jamaica, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Trinidad and Tobago, Uruguay, and Venezuela.

I was brought up as a Vietnamese-American, being taught about both cultures, playing a beautiful game of balance, learning about both and taking parts of each and molding my own individual identity. I meditate and reflect a lot on my days and how my actions impact others, a trait of the Buddhist-Centric culture of Vietnam, but also have a tendency to be wild and spontaneous based off of the Extroverted-favoring nature of the United States. I consider myself to constantly be a person under construction, as a learn more about the world, I learn more about myself as well.

My parents fled warfare, a corrupt regime that refused to let people speak out about things that were happening and how they really felt. They left a country that was not accepting of ideas. So here we are, in America. The golden land, the country that is held to the golden standard of the world. So what did it mean to be American?

To be American meant to be kind, to be welcoming with open arms, to help others, to love for our neighbors and our fellow citizens in our great melting pot. It never had to do with whether or not someone was born here, where they come from or where they are going, the color of their skin, or their religion. Yet here we stand, in a country more divided than other. Watching this country from the outside, I can almost visualize it tearing apart at the seams.

I have people ask, or rather tell me, that I don’t understand the other side of the argument. That I’m biased. That my view is skewed. I’ll acknowledge that truth, but I can also admit that I’m a little bit more of an expert than at first glance, I majored in Political Science and took many classes on Political Theory as well as the Politics of Immigration. I would now like to invite you to read a couple essays I wrote on refugees and immigration for you to better understand a few concepts, most being that immigrants actually IMPROVE the GDP of a host country while also shutting down Trump’s claim on Sanctuary Cities.

1: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AUNPWKwb4vYDvFplbsHsAzWmCyqD3-T5yn8oG2BUyNY/edit?usp=sharing

2: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ss5ZugxQOtFXJuAb627zRS22I1v7Que4cX4OO0Be3NI/edit?usp=sharing

I understand that from a different point of view, having an undocumented couple with a child born in the United States creates a situation where more often than not, the couple will get to stay with their American child. This brings up the argument on the right side of the aisle, with opponents saying that this would take jobs away, and it’s a quick and simple path to citizenship. Need we go back down history road to remember that we are ALL immigrants? Needless to say, the people who end up becoming parents of an American child will almost definitely be finding jobs, learning English, and contributing and becoming a part of a beautiful American society as well. It sounds just a tad better than the colonial days of forced westward expansion, slavery, and how manifest destiny created a power complex where we forget our own history and refuse to open up doors that were previously available to us.

As a citizen (for now) , of the most influential country on Earth, I would like to end with a few remarks. We are a country that should be building bridges rather than walls. With the rise of alt-right groups, hate crimes, and overall intolerance of civil discussions, it’s difficult to remember that underneath all of this, every person on Earth has a potential to be an American. To be an American citizen is not about a piece of paper or where we are born. For the longest time, it was about character. The person that we are. The person that we could be and have the potential to be. To use the rights given to use by the government in place to better ourselves, and in my case right now, using my first amendment right to express my mind… at least, while I still can.

“I received a letter just before I left office from a man. I don’t know why he chose to write it, but I’m glad he did. He wrote that you can go to live in France, but you can’t become a Frenchman. You can go to live in Germany or Italy, but you can’t become a German, an Italian. He went through Turkey, Greece, Japan and other countries. But he said anyone, from any corner of the world, can come to live in the United States and become an American.” – Ronald Reagan.

Are You Just Alive? Or Truly Living?

It’s strange isn’t it.

We’re in the age and time where we can view the lives of other people around the world at the click of a button. We often end up comparing ourselves to the lives of others. Yet through the lens of social media, we see the peaks, yet never the peaks.

Wouldn’t it be amazing to be studying abroad right now? Traveling the world? Going on vacation in the Bahamas? But what about how insane Merrimack College Homecoming seemed like it was in a monsoon? And at times, what if I got an actual adult job and could afford an apartment with my friends?

But what about the other side of this same coin. We never see the struggles that come with these great moments. In the same beat as studying abroad, what about how hard it is to integrate into a new culture and also learn a new language at the same time. What if you missed your flight between countries and was stuck in the airport all day. We never consider how many hours of work is put in before we can afford a great vacation in the Bahamas. And at long last, the stress of school and then the daily grind wears away at the human soul.

But why do I bring this up? Isn’t this all about living and feeling alive? Yes, yes it is. Take pride in the small things we do everyday.

Step back. Look at the big picture. Own the process. Stop skating through the motions at half speed, but rather chase the things that set your soul on fire. Never stop growing. The difference between just living and feeling alive is a state of mind. Are we simply drones becoming one and the same? Or will we rise and become the great people we were meant to be.

Are we just human, or are we dancer? Let’s dance each day away in this beautiful life.

I am the Traveler

Lost man’s journey or true adventures wonder.

what i cant find is what i cant see

Blind man, sour man, gone man.

 

I am the Traveler

The one who does not stay in one place,

who stays without a trace

yet longs for a home.

He does not stay for long like a paper cut in between fingers.

Stings but not for long.

Why cant he stand to stay?

 

Is it the people?

He knows once the journey resumes, they forget him

Some don’t but who writes to a man on the road?

 

Is it the places?

With such exotic beauty and diversity decay

He does not like to become a statue in such a state.

Not left to stain the ways of where he is when he could be away.

 

What is it then?

 

I am the traveler,

I move because i don’t want to be entombed,

by the people and their places.

I hate to be the stain that can not be cleaned. 

I wish to tend to my fires and have them come to me.

Its pure that way.

I give them my knowledge, in return they nurture me, feed me nourishment

So that i may travel wider and further 

To build fires for others to gather around, to kindle stories 

mountains nature sky night
Photo by Josh Willink on Pexels.com

 

I became the traveler, 

to ease the minds

calm the hearts

and to carry on.

 

I am the traveler, for the love of the journey.

 

 

 

 

 

Some People Just Want to Watch the World Burn

Bruce Wayne: Criminals aren’t complicated, Alfred. Just have to figure out what he’s after.

Alfred Pennyworth: With respect Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man that *you* don’t fully understand, either. A long time ago, I was in Burma. My friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So, we went looking for the stones. But in six months, we never met anybody who traded with him. One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away.

Bruce Wayne: So why steal them?

Alfred Pennyworth: …some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.

-The Dark Knight (2008)

They have no rhyme or reason. They just want to cause chaos where they can, when they can.

In this world we have people who transcend common sense and do things that we have tried to make obsolete or want to phase out. They make a scene or hurl an insult at someone not because they want to create something; its just because they can. That is the simple fact. Its just because they have the ability combined with no control of anything that creates a toxic combination.

If you think about 2018 in a nutshell, that is simply why we are going to hell in a hand basket. We have a lot of people burning our world. Don’t believe me? Here are just a few examples;

  • Separating families at the US-Mexico Boarder
  • Basically attacking the LGBTQIA community
  • Mass Shootings
  •  Hate (there are too many types which again makes the world burn)
  • Sexual Misconduct Cases
  • etc

The list goes on but these are just some that i think kindle the fire really well.

Now what is frustrating is the fact that you really cant reason with these actions. No person, place or thing will ever fall into a category that is easy to explain. Is Trump that stupid, an ass-hat, or is he very much that evil? We will never be able to reason with him or his thoughts. Of course there will be consequences, but how do you implement them when they are people who have nothing to lose?

This doesn’t just go for the President, it goes for everyone.

The people may be angry and create some heinous things and nightmares in our world, but we can still be the ones who put out the fire they have created.

We can be the people when hate speech is a headliner, we can respond with love and acceptance of those who are targeted by the haters. When we see the demonetization of  people because we are afraid of them taking jobs or committing crimes when in fact they are searching for the American dream generations of our family members fought for, we need to be able to give them the tools to create a better life not the tools to turn around at the boarder of their dreams. When the guns begin to fire and take lives, we can be the ones that implement an obscene thing called reason.

We can be the ones that put out the fires

So even if people are gonna just watch the world burn, we can just move past them and put the fires out. I challenge those who are reading this to take up leadership, to take up a “fire extinguisher” and go into the world and create some sense of peace among the disorder and concern.  It doesn’t have to be a big thing, just the small stuff, the small stuff always matters.

What you should never do is feed the fire.

To feed the fire is to fear the chance of change. 

The Quarter-Life Crisis and When to Quit

Well, it happened.  Today I lived out the fantasy of most young adults.  Not the paying-off-student-loans one or the figuring-out-the-cure-for-a-hangover one, but the quitting-the-job-you’ve-worked-your-whole-life-for one.

Okay, maybe we only think about this from time to time, but for me, it had become a daily fantasy.

I started out my professional career as a teacher.  This decision was reached when I was an English major entering my junior year of college and decided to add on education to my major.  I fell in love with teaching the moment I started.  It got me over my fear of public speaking, taught me to be a compassionate person, and helped me learn how to be an effective communicator.  I loved it…for a while.

What comes next is the story of many unlucky teachers: being let go.  I had my first job in a public school teaching sophomores and juniors and while it brought along with it the stresses of a tough population and being a first year teacher among many veterans, I had a good time.  I learned a lot and I felt that I was a better teacher for it.  Unfortunately, this position ended in the same way it ended for several other teachers in my school did that year, with a “thank you for your time, your last day is in a month”.

After spending less than twenty four hours crying, feeling like a failure, and speaking with colleagues, I got my résumé in order and had started applying to new jobs.  I had several interviews over the course of the next few months and was offered a job in July.

I did not give much thought to whether I wanted to keep teaching.  It was simply what I knew.  I thought only about getting a job to pay the bills, not about what I really wanted.  I was determined only to find a school that was a better fit for me–something easier said than done when the end of August is fast approaching.

Now, for my own sake and the sake of my relationship with my now former employer, I will not say anything too negative here or mention them by name.  All I will say is that in nearly every aspect of my job, I would have done what I was asked to do in nearly the opposite way.  I have my own teaching philosophy, as all teachers do, and I want more than anything to be in a school that supports this.  Unfortunately, this was not my case with my last job.

When I go into interviews, I put on a show of the best version of myself.  I dress well, actually bother with some makeup, and smile no matter how nervous I am.  I feel that we often forget that employers do the same.  If my employer had been clear about what the job would look like in the interview process, I would have never accepted it.  My biggest issue with my job is that I was expected to follow every policy, rule, and curriculum to the letter, even though I am most happy and work best when I am able to be creative.

After six weeks, I decided to quit.  After eight, I finally got up the courage to hand in my resignation.  When I did so, it was the first time I had seen my boss smile since my interview.  I had a feeling she would be glad to see me go.  I have nothing bad to say about her for this public platform–only that we have very different ideas about how a school should be run and that my leaving was the best for both of us.

I wish I could say I felt elated as I walked out of the room.  I wish that I could say that I packed my things in a box and stormed out the door, but that isn’t me and it never will be.  I gave her the standard two weeks.  I plan to give absolutely everything I can to this job until it is time for me to leave as it is the right thing to do.  I will miss my students most of all and I will do everything I can to make sure this transition does not hurt their learning.  Instead of slamming the door and burning my bridges, I kept everything nice and polite.  I feel that because I spent such little time at this school, I will not ask for recommendations, but I would never want to be known as the woman who told the principal off and left a class of sixth graders high and dry.

So, I did it.  I left and I am not looking back.  I will finish out my nine days at this school and say goodbye forever.  I will no longer be an English teacher.  I hope to become a full time writer.  I have decided that now is the best time to pursue this dream.  I wanted to be a teacher.  I wanted to write novels.  I wanted to be a doctor.  I wanted to marry my first boyfriend I ever had.  Some dreams come true while others do for a while and then fall apart.  All I know is that I am hitting my quarter-life crisis and I quit my job in search of a path to happiness.  Call me stupid, immature, or an entitled millennial all you want.  If this is my quarter-life crisis, then I have three quarters left to go, and if I’m not doing everything I can to make myself, happy, then what am I doing?

For the Love of the Sox (Update)

Waiting for the series to start, the late nights, early mornings i mean its always worth it because its  “For the Love of the Sox” but this is the World Series.

It has finally come and passed, and we again win a World Series. 

Hallelujah!

I can tell you sitting on my couch for the series was very painful to watch. I got up basically every at bat, screaming at the tv, basically looking like i was about to actually  play the ball. I even got a couple of residents to knock on my door to make sure i was Ok.

“Ok” isn’t a thing with a championship on the line.

Even the continuous text message of how stressed i was, to the point where i believed i threatened to become a chain smoker was tossed about. This series was so beyond stressful i can not imagine what it was like in 2004.

To watch a season culminate in the World Series is like a New Years Eve Recap of the year. You remember where you were when the season started, what you were doing, who you were. For me, i started this year in grad school, working towards a Masters degree, struggling through the stresses of capstone. It was really emotional to say the least. AS the summer went on i looked for a job and after many “almost not quite’s” with job interviews, i began to worry. I began to worry i wasn’t cut out for my field that the degree was a fluke. That’s why the 2018 Boston Red Sox mean so much to me. They became something i attached to, and embodied through an entire calendar year .

So when that final out came, i had all the emotions come to my mind. Basically sat down an shed a couple of tears. I am kinda happy no one saw me. I was a mess. The boys won  it all and i got to watch it unfold like a storybook. Priceless.

As the parade goes by today online in my office, i think i can after so many months breathe a small sigh of relief. The stress of finding a job, the stress of winning a World Series. The doubt that i didn’t belong, the doubt of losing the championship.

It was all just was washed away.

I couldn’t have been happier. Like i said before the Sox are the toast of the town, Boston’s baby boys; and when they win, we win. Isn’t it a great thing to see?

We’re all just Awkward n' Adulting.