To fling my arms wide...

Week 2 of Unemployment

I haven’t gone this long without work in…I don’t remember how long. In the first week after City Year was over it was all like, “Haha, we’re unemployed! It’s funny a little! Right, guys?” Now it’s like, “Eff my whole life I’m unemployed and rent’s due in two weeks ahhhhh wtf am I gonna doooo??”

 I spend my days in random coffee shops posted up with my laptop in front of me and my tall ice water (you charge me 10 cents for water, I spend 10 hrs on your wifi, fools) next to me, filling out applications and sending my resume to every tutoring, nannying, babysitting, and/or childcare position I come across. I’ve sent out 30+ apps in the past 3 days and filled out profiles on 4 different social networking sites.

I’ve had one offer so far. But it’s a 2 hr bus ride away in a city I’m unfamiliar with. I turned it down.

Frustrated? Yes. Pessimistic? Slightly. Horrified at the thought of being forced to give everything up and move back home, or else become roomies with the homeless guy down the street who I occasionally have to check is just passed out drunk and not dead? Um. Yes, I am.

But surprisingly, one thing I do not feel is negatively about myself. These are the moments when I know I’ve made progress, because just a few months ago I would have thought something like, “I can’t find work because no one wants to hire me because I’m terrible at what I do and I don’t have enough experience and I wouldn’t be good at any of these jobs anyway and blaaaaah blah negativity blaaah.”

Am I feeling discouraged and angry? Yes. But I know my delay in finding work isn’t because I suck ass at things. I’m smart, dedicated, passionate, and incredibly accomplished for my age. And I haven’t failed yet, because I haven’t given up yet. And even if I do end up having to move back to Seattle, I still won’t have failed. Because giving up is something I will forever refuse to do.

(It definitely helps that my family is so incredible and supportive.)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back on my grind.

It’s Never the Right Time to Say Goodbye

“Hi, Ms. Krista. Today is your last day of school…I feel so weird. I think I liked you so much! You were always nice to me and helpful to me. Also, you always made me laugh. I hope next year you can visit me! What I know for sure is you are so friendly and kind. This school year was fun because of you and City Year member. Also, I will promise you that I will challenge more and more. Thank you for giving me a power. I will miss you so much! I will never forget you! Thank you, Ms. Krista.”

Today was my last day serving with City Year at Virgil Middle School. All day long, I was surprised by gifts, cards, notes, and hugs from students, teachers, and staff. One student gave me nail supplies, a teacher gave me a Sephora gift card (and all her lesson plans! yay!) A teacher whose class I didn’t even work in gave me a beautiful book profiling young students’ lives in Afghanistan, a book of poems, and two movie passes. I walked into a class and all my students started cheering and clapping. The students I’ve had the biggest behavior issues with came by the City Year room after school just to say goodbye and give me hugs. I literally had a student attached to my hip during our after school program. So. Much. Love. I’m emotionally exhausted.

The student who wrote me the note above isn’t in my class. She’s a 6th grader, an 11-year-old girl who recently moved from Korea without her parents. She is incredibly sweet and intelligent, both emotionally and academically. She comes into the City Year room every day during nutrition and lunch, and I’ve been fortunate enough to watch her growth all year. She’s gone from being sort of shy, self concious about her English, and hesistant to push herself, to being confident and bold and ready to skip algebra and take geometry next year as a 7th grader, something she never thought she would do.

I could end this day thinking about all the regrets I have about this year. How I could have done more. How I let my personal life/issues affect my work in the classroom. But, when all is said and done, I helped an 11-year-old girl feel she is powerful. Nothing can devalue that. Hell ya, f’n right.

I’ve spent all year feeling pride for my students. Today, I also feel damn proud of myself. I feel I have accomplished a major goal I’ve had since the 5th grade. I myself feel confident, and I feel ready to take on the next stage in my life.

I haven’t felt this beautiful in a very long time.

Feelin Good, Feelin Great…

Performed my first completely memorized piece today without messing up. For the first time in the longest, I feel so much pride for myself instead of for somebody else. Need to find a new open mic, asap!

Bus Riding Blues

Just got off the bus feeling hella pissed. Sick of waiting excessive amounts of time to get on a bus that will make me late for things and on which I will inevitably be sexually harassed, uniform or no uniform. Sick of constantly thinking, “If only I could afford a car, things would be so much easier.” Sick of my whole life since age 13 working so hard for what is monetarily so little. Sick of the anxiety always in my stomach that i’ll never be financially stable, that I’m doomed to a life of being poor.

I stepped onto the curb and crossed the street, my thoughts making me angrier and angrier. And then I heard a small voice shout,

“City year!”

And turned to see a little girl smiling and waving at me frantically from across the street.

I’m gonna miss that.

I don’t know when I’ll be able to afford a car. But until then I’ll try to remember I’m muy rich in other ways.

Welp

time for a new tattoo