credibility.

It's been a long time.

Autumn has "arrived" and brought with it a return to routine which is very welcome in some ways.  But just when I have pulled out the ankle boots and considered how many pairs of tights I have without holes in the toes, New York City becomes a sauna once again and it is back to sandals and hair-off-the-neck-hairstyles and hesitating to go outside at lunchtime for fear of melting.  And just when I have returned to the hallowed halls of grad school and bought the linguistics textbook and downloaded the World Bank policy articles, an am I doing the right thing here panic creeps in, bringing feelings of uncertainty and confusion.  I want to be a credible something-- a credible teacher?  A credible policymaker?  A credible something.

I wonder about those people who seem to have their ducks in a row.  People who have "job satisfaction", doing something creative and fulfilling while making a living.  A living.  Savings accounts and seemingly endless vacation days and person-to-person contact every day that reverses the feeling of a job being an obligation.  Where do those careers live?  Who are those people?

I am lucky to have had lots of good experiences in my life thus far that have made me an enriched and curious person, but I am just sitting here trying to figure out how they will all fit into what comes next.

This is me just getting it all out.

oh, life.

Life has been crazy lately.  Since my last post, I wrapped up a very short-lived career "trading for Joe", and began a new job at a non-profit in Brooklyn.
Yep, that's right.  Brooklyn.  As in, "I live in Pennsylvania and commute to Brooklyn every morning and every evening".  Luckily it hasn't been as bad (yet) as I'd thought and within a few months I'll have saved enough money to pay a deposit on an apartment in New York.  But for now, my travel time clocks in at just under 2 hours each way, which I'm viewing as extremely valuable reading/podcast time (Ira Glass, I'm lookin at you).

I've got a lot of figuring out to do, most especially in the How will I ever find time to do the things I enjoy doing in the free time I don't have? category, but it will come with time.  And for now, I've got my first real job working for an organization I believe in in one of the greatest cities in the world.  And though the commute may get long at times, that fact is certainly nothing to complain about.

This weekend, updates about life.  Promise.

fake friday.

Today I had a seriously grumpy morning. I've been tired all week and finding it really hard to get out of bed when my alarm goes off, and I haven't worked out as much as I'd like to.

I got really frustrated after ESL class today for a couple of reasons: Rosalba's computer stopped running Rosetta Stone completely after a few weeks of spotty performance, which led to her insistance that I take the entire hour and a half to learn extra Spanish (and by learn, I mean try to make out what she's saying). Then I got irritated thinking about how I'm considered the default IT person where I work; it seems that just because I work with older people and am straight out of college, they assume I know everything about technology. I'm not completely dumb when it comes to computers or internet or networks, but I'm no technician either.

Thankfully, another young guy who works next door happened to walk into my office (as the steam was still spouting out of my ears). He and I shared stories of our mutual frustration for a while, and then he took the troublesome laptop from me and seems to have fixed the problem-- fingers crossed.

A few deep breaths later, I was a bit calmer, but still wished to be at home preparing for Homecoming weekend rather than sitting in my cold office. I stepped outside to run next door, and the sunshine felt so welcoming and boosted my mood so instantaneously that I called to my boss and let him know I was leaving, then packed up the heavy laptop and walked outside.

I had originally planned to go take a little peek in H&M for a sassy dress for Saturday night, but the thought of lugging my heavy bag all the way to the center of town was off-putting, so instead I wandered over to Cafe Ole, a great discovery since working at ADROP. It's a trendy little European coffee shop with the most amazing vanilla chai I've ever tasted-- and I decided to get a Greek salad and sit outside, enjoying the unseasonal warm weather.

So here I am, iced coffee next to me, and having just eaten the best Greek salad I've had since returning from Greece! It's got leaves (unlike traditional Greek salads...), but also giant chunks of fresh feta, diced cucumbers and tomatoes, marinated olives, and.... stuffed grape leaves! I'm in heaven.

Plus, this neighborhood is just brimming with young people outside at the moment, enjoying the weather. It's perfect for people-watching-- one of my all-time favorite activities! There are young parents showing off their adorable babies to each other. There's a boutique gym across the street with a couple of mustache-adorned men flexing their muscles. Everyone around here seems to be dog-walking at the moment, and it doesn't hurt that cute boys riding bicycles zoom by every few minutes.

And the best part of it all is knowing that after ESL class tonight, nothing stands in the way of me and a much-anticipated weekend reuniting with my college roommates. I'm getting a badly-needed haircut early tomorrow morning, then I'll be off to pick up Becky from the airport (she's flying in from San Francisco!) We're going to eat lunch on campus and then hang out with my sister Niamh for a while, mostly so that I can raid her fabulous closet. And then the rest of the weekend festivities will begin! I'm so excited to be reunited with my college friends-- especially since I may not see some people again before I leave for South Africa.

Fake Fridays are even better than real Fridays!

the rosalba stone.

Today, for the first time-- despite my semester of duty as a philosophy TA, despite my countless hours babysitting, and despite my years as 3rd grade "teacher" with old textbooks in my basement as a child-- today, I finally felt like something of a real teacher.

Part of my job as Program Coordinator for a small Augustinian non-profit in Philly is devoted to English as a Second Language classes. I don't do much; I simply show up for ninety minutes, morning and night on Tuesdays and Thursdays, at an empty room at St. Rita of Cascia church in South Philadelphia. There, I oversee as many as six non-native English speakers who wish to refine their grammar, speaking, and writing skills, using Rosetta Stone. I can't tell you how many times I've sat and listened to What are you doing?, There are sixteen blue flowers, and Yes, I am looking for some money during that time. The phrases that the developers at Rosetta Stone have chosen to educate non-anglophones force me sometimes to question the great praise the program has received. How often is a woman from Colombia going to need to say My parents are from China, but I speak English?

Regardless, I was nervous to dive into this position at first, as my pitiful Spanish was limited to hola and como esta. My chosen language was French in high school and college, and though it's served me well, I am now witnessing the evidence that supports the "But why take French when Spanish will be much more useful?" argument.

The students in my classes caught on quite quickly that I had barely a lick of their native language (though not all are Hispanic-- we also have one Vietnamese woman and one from Indonesia). And so, kindly, a student named Rosalba has offered to instruct me in half hour increments before our regular ESL classes begin on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. She proudly brought in her "Spanish for Beginners" picture book donated by her grandkids from Colombia, and so this is how I find myself twice a week at 10:00 in the morning. She's patient with me, and like my very own Rosetta Stone-- or better yet, my Rosalba Stone-- most of the phrases I learn aren't exactly useful (such as, "The children watch the duck swim in the water inside the red bathtub"), but I'm glad to have exposure to the language nonetheless.

Today, Rosalba was waiting for me when I ran into the room, ten minutes late after a heinously long wait to deposit a check at the bank. She had next to her a black plastic bag, and offered me its contents: two gorgeous tiny apples, looking like they had just fallen from an equally gorgeous apple tree.

But I wasn't allowed to have them until the correctly pronounced phrase dos manzanas crossed my lips, and with that, I was given the apples and initiated as la profesora. And those thirty minutes with my Rosalba Stone have already shown me the importance of good, solid relationships with any sort of student. It's these days I hope to tuck away and take with me when I go to South Africa in just three months.


Photo courtesy of Ivan M, http://www.flickr.com/photos/ivanomak/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0