The Black Friday Dilemma

     I recently saw a petition on my Facebook feed asking major retailers to push Black Friday back to where it belongs - y'know, Friday. It's definitely disturbing to me that we're at this point where we have to fight major companies to give back one day when retail workers were pretty much only ever guaranteed Thanksgiving and Christmas before anyways. As if the other 363 days of the year weren't enough (which is 99.45% of the year, by the way), they want to have the right to schedule you to work Thanksgiving too?? Jesus. This is truly ridiculous. However, even though I'm already riled up about the ridiculous attitude people can have towards work and laborers, I'm going to write about this situation from a different angle - how we are going about trying to solve the issue of stores opening their doors earlier and earlier. 

     Like I said, I saw the petition online (here). It has 13,586 signatures as of this writing. That's insignificant, considering the fact that as far back as 2011 there was a petition with over 200k supporters (here). Just consider the petition: someone thought it was a bright idea to write a letter to someone whose job, ultimately, is to optimize money-making. And the author and supporters of that petition thought it would be a bright idea to ask that CEO or company in general to stop doing what they were made to do. It just doesn't really make sense to me, and previous failed petitions have shown that this year's version probably won't be any more successful. So I'm gonna go ahead and say that the online petition isn't going anywhere, unfortunately. 

     On the bright side, there is something we can do. Instead of writing a letter to someone whose job is to optimize money-making and asking them to stop doing what's driven their success, we can fix the issue ourselves. How? The answer is simple: stop. Stop engaging with Black Friday. Stores wouldn't keep opening if they didn't keep making money, and stores wouldn't keep making money if droves of people weren't packing stores to buy stuff. So...don't do it anymore.

     Not only that, but instead of writing to people who will never see or even care about online petitions, why don't you tell the people you can impact? One of the pleas across these holiday petitions is that the controlling members of these major companies need to think about the families that are impacted by workers who miss out on quality time. Well instead of trying to get that idea across to a stranger... why don't you share that sentiment with your family and friends? Consumers need to understand that they are the ones who need to stop and think about the families across the country that are missing a loved one - a mother, a father, a brother or sister or any manner of loved one - and realize that when they go out to shop at Target or Wal-Mart or wherever else to buy stuff on the cheap - they are the ones responsible for ruining the holidays. 

     So, there it is. While I agree completely with the goal of the petition - fight against Black Friday, think about the families - the idea behind it is all wrong. Why plead with someone who has the power to change things - but won't? Instead you can take things into your own hands by 1) not participating in Black Friday (at least not so early, if at all) and 2) encouraging your friends and families to be considerate of others (namely: all the workers and their families and friends). 

     For full disclosure, I have a vested interest in this because it seems like every stinkin' year my family has to account for my aunt's work schedule on Thanksgiving!! & I'm just like....

     Anyways, I sincerely wish you a happy Thanksgiving. and before you get any shopping in, I urge you to tell people how their actions are literally ruining Thanksgiving for others. Happy holidays!

Environmental Issues

     It's something I think about a lot. I've never really considered myself an environmentalist ("a person who is concerned with or advocates the protection of the environment." - brought to you Oxford Dictionaries from Bing). By definition, though, I am. I am concerned with the environment. I've never written about it before because I've never really known what to write. For the past few years it's just been a lingering issue in the back of my mind - I do what I can, but I haven't come up with any good ideas for how to change things on a grand scale. However, I realized that 1) I don't have to reinvent the wheel and 2) the things I do do are not common - but if they were, we'd be better off than the path we're currently on. What do I mean when I say these things?
     First off, I realized that I didn't have to come up with some large-scale, completely novel solution to the issue. Sometimes I forget (and I think you all forget as well) the power we have as individuals. In a world with 7 billion+ people, I don't blame you. I'm here to remind you, though: you can and do have an impact on the world. It might be great, it might be small, but I guarantee that you do. And the best part is, no one has to do anything that's really amazing - the answer's been right in front of us this whole time. So what are we supposed to do? It's simple:

1. Reduce - "make smaller or less in amount, degree, or size"
2. Reuse - "use again or more than once"
3. Recycle - "convert (waste) into reusable material"                     (All definitions drawn from Oxford Dictionaries as suggested by Bing)

It probably sounds lame to you if you've been hearing those three words since childhood (like me). However, that shouldn't keep you from looking at them as solutions to the issue of environmental waste. It's like running a mile or doing push-ups. Everyone (or almost everyone) knows how to do those things to stay in good health - most folks just don't actually do it. Similarly, it's not like the solutions to environmental waste are unknown or far out - we just got to do it!
Here are some examples brought to you by the EPA (bold text from the EPA, sub-bullets are mine):

• Buy used. You can find everything from clothes to building materials at specialized reuse centers and consignment shops. Often, used items are less expensive and just as good as new.
• Clothes are cheap, at least monetarily. It's not difficult to find plenty of articles of clothing for <20 bucks. Think about that - 3 hours of minimum wage work could buy you jeans. Or maybe a few t-shirts. Or a couple pairs of shorts. Here are some examples I just pulled from Amazon so you don't think I'm making things up: 
• Fruit of the Loom t-shirt 4-pack
• Dickies Pants
• One of those is a FOUR-PACK of t-shirts that costs <$12! I know that's cheap, but it's like the dollar menu at McDonald's - just because it's cheap doesn't mean you need it, and if it's so cheap, it's probably bad in some way or other. With fast food, the cost is your health. With clothing, the cost is our environment. Check out this picture I found (from http://www.ecouterre.com/infographic-how-many-pounds-of-textiles-do-americans-trash-every-year)
  
• "Nearly half of us still trash perfectly reusable textiles." & that's just for the things that do get wasted - it doesn't take into account the clothes that currently sit in houses and storage units that remain untouched - sometimes for years.
• So, what's the take-away? Even though the market is over saturated with cheap, new products, the bottom line is that they're (almost?) entirely unnecessary. If we took to our own closets, thrift stores, and other stores/websites that sell secondhand, we'd find enough clothes to last a lifetime without (barely) ever having to buy new (thus diminishing the demand for production and its corresponding impact on the environment).
• Look for products that use less packaging. When manufacturers make their products with less packaging, they use less raw material. This reduces waste and costs. These extra savings can be passed along to the consumer. Buying in bulk, for example, can reduce packaging and save money.
• I think this boils down to "Shop at Costco." Even if you're single and it seems like everything is just too big - figure it out. You can still shop at Costco.
• Buy reusable over disposable items. Look for items that can be reused; the little things can add up. For example, you can bring your own silverware and cup to work, rather than using disposable items.
• Something that kills me is the great amount of disposable items people go through. Cups, to-go boxes, plates, coolers, and so on & so forth. Whether they're made of plastic, paper, styrofoam, or other materials, people produce a ton of waste that could be reduced. Solutions? You've got plenty of options: use reusable things and wash them (like at family parties). I know it seems inconvenient, but think about it: you're saving junk from piling up into landfills.  If you don't like that, you could even reuse disposable items. I know that defeats the purpose - you just wanna use it and throw it out. But think about things like plastic red cups - all those need is a soapy rinse and you could keep using them instead of going through a gazillion of them for every single gathering. & if that sounds really stupid to you - go back to the first option and just skip disposable products altogether!
• Maintain and repair products, like clothing, tires, and appliances, so that they won't have to be thrown out and replaced as frequently.
• This one's simple - when you take care of things, they last longer. The longer they last, the longer you can go without unnecessary replacements. In addition to the things listed, they even apply to other things such as technology and cookware. Seriously - maintenance and repair (especially because a lot of maintenance and repairs can be DIY) go a long way, if you're willing to use google and youtube to your advantage.  

So, there that is - some solutions for addressing environmental issues in completely do-able ways. I hope it was easy to digest these, and I hope you see that these actions are so simple that you could easily make a difference on the environment if you just put forth the effort to. I've always adhered to the practice of leaving some place better than I found it, and I think sharing this with you all is my way of applying that practice to our planet. Thanks for reading - & go be more of an environmentalist than you were before!

A Big Move (aka Major Differences) part 2

     Like I said when I ended my last post, there are a lot of things down here that are awesome. Something that has really stood out to me is the music – it seems like every Friday and Saturday night (and maybe Thursday night too), every bar has a live band (or 2, or 3) to come and play music for the crowd.

     This phenomenon manifested itself best in Memphis – the night of July 3^rd, we were on Beale St. (which is like the Strip in Vegas, but replace the casinos with bars) at the Jerry Lee Lewis's bar. The band was playing Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis covers, and they were a real treat to watch. One of the coolest things I’d seen was when the singer poured out some liquid on top of the piano and lit it on fire! He then proceeded to do the same to a set of cymbals and some counter space at the side of the stage. Of course the fire lasted just about ~10 seconds, but the novelty of it combined with fire’s ability to inspire fascination made it really cool. It also helped that he made a good 7-10 foot line of fire in front of the stage. I know I’ve been gushing about the fire, but the music was awesome too. People would get up and dance and the main singer was skillful at engaging the audience. At one point, he said something like “Y’all are at the best bar on Beale Street,” which drew a response from a particularly inspired young boy,

     “More like the best BAND on Beale Street!!”

     I could only laugh about this kid’s enthusiasm (he’d been dancing very vigorously throughout the band’s set) and agree.

     Next, we headed to BB King’s House of Blues where they had – you guessed it – more live music. This venue was much larger, with a band to match. Whereas the last group had a main singer (who played guitar and piano), another guitarist (or bassist, I don’t remember), and a drummer, this next group had: someone on the keyboard, a drummer, a main singer and back-up singers, a trumpet player, a guitarist, and a bassist. In other words, they had so many people that they even swapped people on and off stage. As for the music choice, it was largely oldies – stuff that I wasn’t too familiar with, but there were definitely some tunes I could sing along to: September, Beat It, and My Girl, just to name a few. If I thought the last band was great, this band was even greater. The main singer belted out the tunes with a level of vigor and soul that was absolutely thrilling to witness. Accordingly, a great number of people came out in front of the stage to dance out their inspirations.

     So yeah… you could see why I’d love the music down here. It’s not that there isn’t live music in San Jose – but here, it’s everywhere. Not to mention the music down here just seems better. It might be the musicians themselves that are actually better, or the atmosphere surrounding the musicians; it seems like everyone here really enjoys live music, and that’s something I can definitely get behind. This is the perfect time to get into the next thing that’s made my experience such a pleasure – the feel.

     It’s felt more heavily depending on where I am or what I’m doing, but being here just feels different. I can’t give you anything but examples because I’m not too certain of what this feeling is or where it even comes from. Heck, “this feeling” is probably actually a combination of a whole bunch of feelings.

     For example, just this past Thursday I went to a place called Po Monkeys to hang out. it’s a spot that opened up in 1961, where “farm workers could relax, drink beer, and listen to music” (I pulled that from the wiki). There was seating for about 30 people, maybe 40 tops. The ceiling was probably somewhere between 7 and 8 feet, so it wasn’t very tall either. In other words, a pretty cozy place. Also, I forgot to mention that this place is nestled at the edge of a corn field, about ¾ of a mile off the paved road and just accessible by a gravel path. We had a couple beers and listened to some music (which, by the way, was not live, oddly enough. However, there was a DJ that would work the crowd and create breaks in the songs for people to sing to.).  I also forgot to mention that this place was BYOW (Bring Your Own Whiskey). Sweet deal, huh? Just don’t try to bring beers in. (Trust me.) The coolest thing about the place was its historic feel.

     Knowing that this was the watering hole for locals for 50+ years was pretty special. There was writing on the wall too – like what you’d see at Boiling Crab. The only difference was that at Po Monkeys, even the writing on the wall looked old. The faded color of the wood and smoothness of the surfaces definitely pushed the image of this place as something that’d been around for a long time. Just being in there gave me a good feeling.

After we were finished hanging out, we went to the shack outside where they were serving food so I could grab some BBQ rib tips. While we were waiting, the state senator who owned the business that was serving the food came out to talk to us. I think we chatted for a good half hour, at least. We talked about this and that and joked around, and it was just absolutely amazing to me. To meet and engage with somebody of his political clout as if we were old buddies – that is something special.

I’m not sure if I’ve done a very good job of portraying it to you, but the feel of the place – to me, at least – has a lot to do with the history of the area and the closeness of the people here. Not just physical closeness – but a social closeness that some places have and others don’t. This leads to my final point of major difference between here and San Jose: the people.

I left this point for last because it’s the most significant. The climate, the music, the distance – all those and everything else are secondary when it comes to the people. They make this place. On a grander scale, people have always been what my life is about. I’ve spent the majority of my existence making them laugh and smile. I don’t think that will change any time soon, if ever. People are why I hope to be a teacher for the rest of my life – I love to see people flourish, and this is one way I can directly help them do that. So let’s talk about these people.

From my time down here so far, the people have been very welcoming. I’m sure part of it comes from being with TFA – it seems like everywhere we go, people have a positive view of the organization. Parents, community members, and school staff – everyone just has words of encouragement and kindness for us. I know that’s not always the case for all TFA members, so I’m very grateful to be placed in a region where I feel both wanted and needed. Furthermore, I think it has more to it than just being with TFA; it sounds cliché, but I think people down here might just be better conditioned at looking out for each other. Whatever the reason, the locals are very inviting and seem more than happy to share their home with us.

Besides the locals, there’s another group I’ll be spending a lot of time with – everyone that’s in TFA, which consists of the other 14 corps members, the alumni/2^nd years, and our regional staff. Since there’s so few of us in all, it seems like we bonded very quickly and deeply for such a diverse group of people. Although we come from a lot of different backgrounds, I guess it just so happens that our personalities mesh really well together. Besides the fortuitous chemistry, we’re also bonded by what we all signed up to do – to work our hardest in providing a quality education for those who might not otherwise get one. Being surrounded by like-minded and motivated people is really quite thrilling. The energy we each bring to the table seems to be multiplied when we come together, which really sets the tone for how I want to work: with enthusiasm and perseverance (while remembering that having some fun along the way just makes the work easier). The people here have driven me and will continue to be there along the way as I (inevitably) struggle through my first two years of teaching, and I can’t be more excited about that.

So that’s it – through 2 posts and somewhere in the neighborhood of 2,500 words, I think I’ve covered the great majority of what’s been different between here and San Jose. I’ve shied away from saying “home” too much when referring to San Jose because it will always be my HOME home by default. It’s where I grew up, have great memories, and where (most of) my family lives. However, after just 7 weeks I can already feel the fondness and warmth in my heart that I associate with the 2 other places I choose to call home, and that’s something that really excites me. Here’s to 2 more years! 

A Big Move (aka Major Differences) part 1

     7 weeks ago, I hopped on a plane that took me from San Jose, California to Monroe, Louisiana. When my parents dropped me off at the airport, Daisy came with to say goodbye. After grabbing my things (1 luggage, 1 carry-on, and my backpack), I turned around to say goodbye to Daisy. We hugged, we kissed, we exchanged some words, and we shed some tears (it was tragic, seriously). Then I turned to head into the airport with my mom to check my baggage while my dad made a loop around the airport. After checking in my baggage, there was nothing left but to head on up to the security checkpoint. I hugged my mom goodbye and cried some more. I wasn’t really sure what lay ahead of me at that point– the only thing I knew for sure was that I would be leaving everyone and everything that I had known in my life up to that point. Tough to do when you lead a life you enjoy surrounded by people that love you. This was very different from leaving to San Diego.

     When I went to San Diego to start school, I drove down with a friend to a place that I had already been to and where I knew I was going to see at least a few familiar faces.  Louisiana was a complete unknown – I had never even spoken to whoever was picking me up at the airport, let alone met any of the staff in person (we’d had conversations on Skype or the phone). I didn’t have any expectations for the place besides knowing that it would be a lot more hot & humid than California. Turns out even that expectation wasn’t completely right – I think San Jose’s hotter, it’s just the humidity down here that makes me sweat so much. In fact, I knew so little about the place I didn’t even think it rained down here – which, in retrospect, why the hell wouldn’t it rain down here?? I moved to the South, not the goddamn desert. If that doesn’t give you a good idea for how unaware I was coming down here, I don’t know how else I could show you. I really didn’t know anything. Heck, I still haven’t* even made comparisons between the temperature here and in San Jose to conclusively tell you which place is hotter!

     Anyways, back to my flight to Monroe. First off, I didn’t even go there directly. I flew to Phoenix for a short layover of about an hour, after which I travelled to Dallas, where I slept over at the airport. Finally, I woke up for an early flight out of Dallas to Monroe. When I got there, I waited for about an hour before I was picked up by a fellow corps member. I hopped into his car and we drove to Tallulah, a city with a population of – get this – a whopping 7,500 people. At this point, I was a good 1,500 miles further from home than I’d been in San Diego.

Before I continue, let’s have a quick rundown of the perceptions of my new home:

• So humid I could just stand outside and still sweat.
• A population that is literally less than 1% of that of San Jose’s
• Waaay way far from home. As in, a one-hour drive and a 7-hour flight to get home, whereas before I’d been a 20-minute drive and 1-hour flight from home.
• I hadn’t realized it immediately on my first day, but my God – the mosquitos. There are hordes of them, and they just feast on your flesh. Sometimes, even coating myself in bug spray hasn’t been enough L.

     All in all, not a very flattering list. Oh, and did I mention? I went from being just another Vietnamese person in a city absolutely teeming with Asians to being one of less than a dozen Asian people that I had seen in the entire city. Like, when I saw the family that ran the town’s Chinese buffet, I actually felt a sense of kindred with them – just because they were the only other yellow people I’d seen all week.

      I wouldn’t say I’ve ever been particularly conscious of my skin color growing up, but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times in the past 7 weeks where I felt like I stuck out just for being the token Asian in the area. For instance, students where I taught summer school asked if I was from China, if I could speak Chinese (typically accompanied by the “ching chong ling long” used by those who are too unaware to know any better), or if I was really from California. The worst part of it all is that I don’t even blame them for their questions – I would bet that for most of the people around here, Asians account for less than .01% of the people they’ve encountered their whole lives. Why wouldn’t they assume I’m Chinese, considering they’re the most populous of Asians? I’ll probably be the closest a lot of these people will ever get to Vietnam, period. As in, yes, I am rather exotic. I never thought I'd be describing myself as such.
     I’ve never really paid attention to it, but people still do – it shows when they ask me where I’m from (y’know, with that particular tone of inquiry) or where my parents are from. And I can’t help but do a double-take or make a mental note every time I see an Asian – as if to acknowledge that, oh yes, there are other Asians here. Also, the 9-inch hair tied up definitely isn’t doing me any favors either. All in all, the racial difference has definitely been an interesting part of the experience down here.

     I’ve touched on a good number of the features that have made life down here different – the climate, demographics, the extreme distance, and those pesky mosquitos. However, there are still many differences I haven’t addressed yet. These differences include the music, the unique feel, and most obviously, the people. Those are the things that make me excited to live down here, and I’ll be covering those next.

               

* I checked after writing that. The average temperature is 4 degrees hotter in Tallulah than SJ and the amount of rain here is about 3.5x greater than in SJ. The temperature difference doesn’t sound like that much, but consider that the lows are lower here. The highs have to be higher (on average) to make up for that – in the summer months, I’m not sure if the highs ever hit as high as they are in SJ, but the majority of the summer is spent in the high 80s and 90s. At least that’s what I concluded, looking at usclimatedata.com

Welcome Back to my Blog!

     I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. After I'd finally nailed down a name for this blog, I thought that having a framework for my ideas would make it a lot easier to sit down and write. And it does! I just haven't had the chance to be alone with my thoughts in quite awhile now.
     For the past 6 weeks, I've been spending all my time with other prospective teachers to get a taste of teaching and to prepare for the upcoming school year. I just wanted to write about it to process it better. I analogize it to watching a movie or reading a book again - your brain will probably focus on some other details that seem new just because you didn't pay them proper attention for the first time. This way, you really get the most out of the material as you can. Similarly, I'm hoping to get the most out of life by programming in occasional periods of review. It's like watching film of yourself to learn from events that just recently happened. That being said, let's move on to what's been happening since I moved away from California!
     For the first week, I spent time to get to know the 15 other people placed in the same region as me; we traveled around the community and met people/explored places. This included some community service (a major clean up of a park), meeting and talking to parents and other community members to get to know the area and our work in it, and a lot of team building and reflection activities to share out about ourselves and get to know each other better - after all, we will be spending the next 2 years together.
     For 5 weeks after that, we joined with 400+ others from the surrounding regions to participate in a variety of things during our summer training (referred to as "Institute"): teaching summer school classes, engaging in discussions on culture and teaching, and planning our daily lessons. It was the definition of routine, at least from Monday through Friday. Specifically, my days went like this:

• Wake up at 5:15, get dressed & head out the door at 5:30. 
• Go grab a bagged lunch and have breakfast 'til 5:55
• Walk over to the bus, which leaves at 6:10.
• Get to school at 7, head over to the classroom and prep for the day (clear the board, sharpen pencils, etc.)
• From 7:30, spend time with students in the gym until classes start at 8
• 8-9:40: Fine-tune my lesson for the day or work on tomorrow's lesson 
• 9:40-10:40: Small-group instruction (practicing math with 3-4 students, it's pretty self-explanatory)
• 10:40-11:05: Sit and spend time with the students during lunch
• 11:05-12: More lesson-related work, meeting to discuss lessons and the classroom, observing others teach. Come to class during my co-teacher's block so that students get more individual attention.
• 12-1: My 1-hour block to teach Algebra.
• 1-2:30: Getting back to campus
• 3-6: Classes on teaching, culture, management, etc. etc.
• 6-10 or 11, sometimes 12: Cramming in dinner, lesson planning/printing, exercise, and socializing.
• Rinse & repeat

Phew! We got weekends to ourselves, which consisted of hanging out/going out to get to know the surrounding area (I went to Memphis for 4th of July weekend, which was awesome).

     It's weird to write out that list and see just how planned out my existence has been during Institute. People are creatures of habit anyways - it just so happens that this routine was largely given to me as opposed to being set by me from the start. 

     As far as the bigger picture goes, that's what I've been doing for the past month. The last day of Institute was yesterday, and afterwards I drove back down to our regional base at Tallulah. Everyone but myself and 2 others headed home until we start back up on July 22 with a week of professional development. Until then, I'll just be hanging out in the general area (hopefully sliding down to southern MS for a few days and then around New Orleans for a few more). I hope to get some more writing in during this time.

     Even though I've given you a snapshot of my life for the past month, there's still so much I haven't gone over yet - ideas coming from the discussions during our class sessions, visiting the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, my experiences in class as a teacher, and so much more that I'm pretty sure I won't even get to it all (for instance, I haven't even touched on moving from California to Louisiana [or more accurately, Mississippi]). Stay tuned for updates in the next ~11 days!

     

Alas, A Name

     I can’t remember what I was doing – maybe hanging up laundry or cleaning the backyard – when it hit me. The new name for my blog! No longer would I be undecided, but rather a work in progress. It seemed like a great fit, and it definitely has a lot to do with my move to Louisiana. As I hope to be here for the next 2 years, I’m pretty positive that this experience will lay the foundation for my career and serve to propel growth for the rest of my life.

     I’ve always had it in my mind that we are all just works in progress. Since people are dynamic, I figured it was an appropriate way to view them. However, it  hit me one day that this view isn’t necessarily true. While people might be forever changing, many people stop progressing. A work in progress sounds like …well, a work in progress. Something that isn’t finished, but is on its way towards completion or fulfillment. Like a project running over budget, however, a work in progress can stall. Or even be ruined by poor design (wiki the Tacoma Washington Bridge, my fav. and definitely my most-referenced example of poor design). Along those lines, I realized that not all people are works in progress.

     Though we may change, that isn’t inherently good or bad. Change doesn’t have any moral value by itself. For instance, a change I could make tomorrow is to pick up a meth habit. Sure, I’ve changed – but I don’t consider it a step in the right direction, so I definitely wouldn’t classify it as progress. Thus, changes need to be evaluated before they can be rightly termed as progress.

     So that’s what I thought about when I first considered changing my blog name to “A Work in Progress.” I hope to make this period a valuable one as far as making progress in many areas of my life by doing a few things:

•   Becoming familiarized with the worldviews and perspectives of a group of people I never thought I’d surround myself with.
• Broadening my own horizons by doing the above ^.
•  Exploring a side of food I’ve rarely (if ever) encountered.
•  Learning an absolute ton when it comes to teaching technique (as far as figuring out all the approaches  I will need to help all students succeed).
• Resurrecting some fitness goals I’ve let go of these past few months.
• And I’m sure a ton of other things I haven’t even considered but will change in me.

     In summary, the name of this blog is drawn from my decision to commit myself to being a work in progress. I’m not finished trying to make myself better. I hope anybody reading this hasn’t quit yet either.

     

Being Laid Off Blows Balls

     When I first moved back home, I didn't really have a plan except that I'd be taking the year off. After the year was up, I'd probably head to grad school for my teaching credential. Until then, no plans for anything.
     Just a few hours after getting home, I was hanging out with some friends when one of them asked if I wanted a part-time job. I figured it'd be better than sitting on my ass all day; I gladly accepted.
     So for the past ~10 months, I've spent 4 hours a day helping people get home from work. It's basically just answering people's questions about the shuttles (what time their bus leaves, where x bus has stops, if & for how long a bus is late, etc. etc.). It's a pretty sweet gig - I get this great opportunity to meet and talk to people while helping them out. I learned about 2 weeks ago that the company that was contracted to fill the position would, unfortunately, be losing that responsibility at the end of the month - leaving me jobless.
     Fortunately for me, I've been accepted to Teach for America and will land in Louisiana in ~2 weeks. Although being laid off won't have any effect on my plans, I realized that I'd be much more distressed if the layoff was more serious.
     I'll start with a timeline of events:

• On May 4, my boss gave me a call to let me know that my replacement had been hired. Sounds shitty right off the bat, but he said I'd be working 'til the end of the month; I didn't mind because I'd be leaving then anyways.
• Friday the 8th, he texted me not to come into work and that we'd talk on Monday. This is more than writing on the wall, as he's expressly told me not to come into work. 
• Come Monday, he calls me in the morning to tell me I'm laid off and that I just need to come in to pick up my last check. 

     In the space of a week, I'd gone from having what amounted to a 4-week notice to not having a job at all. As I said, this wasn't so painful because I already had plans in place. However, it still gave me a ton of insight as to how such an experience could be devastating. 

     Some things to consider about being laid off if this were a job that I had been dependent on:

• I might not have had money for rent/food/other necessities.
• Needless to say, I would have had to find another job ASAP - which could realistically take as little as a couple weeks all the way up to a few months.
• The mental stress of knowing that I'm a fully capable adult willing to work and yet unable to.

None of these things were concerns for me. I bunk in my parents' house, I can work in a tax office or on a food truck, and I'm already looking forward to working as a teacher. However, I can still say I've been laid off and got a glimpse as to the devastating effects it might have on a person. I'm sure there's a lot more to being laid off that I will (hopefully) never encounter, but it's a shitty experience that makes me really relieved to have 1) parents who support me and 2) plans for my future in place. 

Episodes in Bullying #3

     Back in 8th grade, someone introduced deadlegging (alternatively known as giving someone a charlie horse) into the social sphere. You just throw your knee into the side of someone's leg (generally with a lot of force, because dumbass kids don't know about restraint [or at least I didn't]), resulting in a great amount of pain. I also think the only way you ever found out about it was through firsthand experience. Nobody ever walked around telling others what a deadleg/charlie horse was; kids just walked around giving 'em out like it was Christmas and they were some kind of Santa whose only gift is pain.
     I don't remember specifically how it happened to me, but it's not like there were a great variety of ways people went around kneeing someone in the leg. I was probably just standing around at break and was caught unawares by a friend who thought it was time to initiate me. It was probably painful - it pretty much has to be, unless you happen to stand around in a suit of armor (which... I didn't). So, there you have it. I'm standing around probably just talking to my friends when someone comes up and knees me in the side of my leg. It hurts a lot and my leg aches, so of course I clutch my leg. If it helps, you can imagine the scene with Peter Griffin where he sits there on the sidewalk clutching his leg as he hisses in pain.
     So anyways, some idiot thought it was a good idea to do that to me, like I really wasn't capable of going waaayyy overboard with it. Can you guess what my first thought was, after the pain subsided? "I gotta show this to someone!" (What a vicious goddamn cycle it would be, if everyone who had pain inflicted on them made the executive decision to subsequently inflict the pain on someone else). Of course, the first people you wanna show some cool shit to is your friends, and I immediately knew I had to go to Alan with this.
     Alan's name doesn't have to be changed because this might not even be an incident of bullying (because I didn't go out with the express intention to whoop his ass or anything - doesn't bullying have to have some malicious intent behind it??). Furthermore, he's one of my all time very best friends anyways, so I've already recounted this story (with and without his presence) a buncha times. So to make it very clear who I am talking about, I am referring to Alan Chen. The one who, as a SIXTH GRADER, already grew more facial hair than I am able to more than a decade later. The one who currently studies Structural Engineering at UCSD. THAT Alan Chen.
     So anyways, I now have it in my head that I've gotta share this with Alan. I know where he hangs out at lunch, so it's easy enough. I think I even waited midway through lunch to let him think that he wasn't gonna see me. Don't forget:  to do this thing right, you've gotta have a great element of surprise. So I let the time pass, hangin' out or whatever 'til I decide it's time. I stake out the area he's hanging out in, between Ms. Mah's class and the locker room. I make sure his back is turned, so that my approach goes unnoticed. I slowly walk up to him, gesturing to whoever he's talking to to remain quiet, lest they tip him off. By the time I close to within ~10 feet, I start to smile in glee at my imminent success. And as I draw closer, I start to speed up - probably a combination of excitement and nerves. Whatever the case, the resulting momentum ensures that I'll be able to give him a good, hard knee. Which is exactly what I did.
     Don't get me wrong now - I didn't run up to the guy and soar through the air to deliver a flying kick or some shit like that. I just went at a quick pace to his side, cocked my leg back, and really let fly with pretty much all my strength. Just like I said, I went waaaayy overboard with it. To add insult to injury, I probably even shouted "Dead leg!" as I did it, like it was entirely appropriate to shout out whatever you inflict on someone. (Could you imagine? "AIDS!" "Bitch slap!" Hahahah)
     Anyways, after my swift knee to the leg, he just... crumpled. As in, his leg gave out from under him and he pretty much folded to the ground. I immediately knew I'd gone too far. He shouted something like "What the fuck was that?!" (I guess he didn't listen to my obnoxious shout, lol).
     I helped him up (or maybe I tried and he refused 'cause he was pissed. That's probably what happened), and fortunately he wasn't actually injured. He definitely had a limp for more than a few seconds though, and I'm pretty sure his leg ached for awhile.
     I titled this making it look like an incident of bullying because when I first thought about it, it seemed pretty damn mean. It still does, but after taking into account the fact that I was just being a dumbass kid, I'm not so sure it fits into anyone's idea of bullying (you can even ask Alan. Just because I hurt him didn't mean I really MEANT it, y'know?). It's still funny to me because I can't really fathom what was going on in my head at the time. Why did I think it was a good idea to knee my best friend and not my worst enemy? And why on earth didn't I give any consideration to restraint?? Some questions will never go answered, I guess...

Episodes in Bullying #2

     Remember that one story I already shared from 5th grade? The time I threw that kid's shoe across the playground and into the sandbox? I don't know if you consider that bullying. If you do, then that's the story that would go here. But I don't think giving a kid what he deserves counts as bullying, so I don't count it myself. Although I may not have realized it at the time, though, this next case has gotta be considered bullying (... I think).

     In my 5th grade class, the general punishment was writing lines. Y'know like in the intro. to the Simpsons, how Bart is standing at the chalkboard writing the same sentence, over and over again? It was like that, except on paper (lol thank God, 'cause our arms would have been damn exhausted if we had to raise 'em up all the time to write). I can't remember what I had done that day to deserve it, but I did something or other that got me lines. The worst part about the punishment wasn't really the punishment itself - anybody with an ounce of patience and a motivated attitude could bang out a couple hundred lines no problem, even if it took awhile. The issue was the timing; writing didn't take place after school. 

     It took place during your breaks and lunch, and you weren't free until you finished 'em. Even if you were a great student and finished up your work early, you couldn't even start on those damn lines 'til break/lunch started.

     Do something stupid in the morning? Miss your break. 

     Write slowly? There goes your lunch too. 

     And if you thought you could only be punished for one day per transgression? Wrong. Instead of having some sort of amnesty policy that would let students off the hook after a full day's worth of missed fun, you were just responsible for taking care of those lines. Sooner or later didn't really matter to the teacher, because if you wanted to dick around, you were just screwing yourself at that point. I guess that also prevented kids from being assholes at the end of the day - who the hell wants to end their day with the knowledge that they've got to waste time the following day with lines?

     So one morning, I was looking at missing recess to write lines. Fortunately, I had a loyal group (or was it just a pair? I don't remember) of friends that would have enjoyed recess much more with my presence. Another thing going for me was that these dudes could write fast. So, what did we do? As soon as break started, we whipped out the papers and pencils and got down to business. We scrawled those lines as fast as we could. The number of lines originally meant for just me was taken care of in a matter of minutes by the 3 (or more) of us, and soon I gathered all our papers and turned in my lines. Cue our exit from that prison-like atmosphere and into 10-15 minutes of great, childish fun.

     After recess, we went back to class to a stunning announcement: from now on, people had to write their own lines.

........................................forREALS? This was no coincidence (obviously), and I was absolutely seething. Sure, all my teacher did was close a loophole I had exploited, but try explaining that to my 5th-grade self. All I felt at the time was that something I had used to beat the system was taken away from me - and I was furious. Before lunch, someone in class told me that I had been snitched on. And by who? Well... let's just call him Derek.
     He was probably the tallest kid in class, pretty lanky. Really strong values (...obviously). Not Mr. Congeniality, but he wasn't an outcast, or picked his nose all the time, or smelled like poop (and before you ask. Yes. I did go to school with a kid who smelled like shit on a regular basis). He just happened to set me off.
     With my information, I finally had a target for my frustration (and trust me, there was a lot). Looking back at it, whoever the hell told me it was Derek could have been giving me false information, but I guess because of my rage (or, more likely, youth), I never even considered it. Sucks for that guy, but I was out for blood (...not literally).
     When lunch rolled around, I gathered a group of friends and we went in search of Derek. Y'know how people are very tribal?? The mob we formed was very reflective of that - all that was missing were some pitchforks and torches, lol. Anyways, we found him on the kickball diamond, just hanging out by himself. My memory isn't the clearest on this (maybe part of me wants to forget that I could be so mean...), so the following might not be completely accurate.
     As we approached Derek, he didn't make any attempt to get away from us. We circled him anyways. I'm positive we engaged in some sort of conversation, but I can't remember what was said. I probably said something really cliche for a childhood bully. "You know why I'm here?" "You think it was a good idea to snitch on me? Does that still seem like a good idea to you??" Probably something brief and really just a formality - I don't think anything we said was going to change what happened next.
     I end up having 2 of my friends pin his arms behind his back. After our brief conversation, I punched Derek in the stomach. He doubled over, and that was that. We let him go and just walked away. And... that was that. I got a visit to the principal's office and a call home for it, but that was all.
     So there you have it - my 2nd experience in a bullying scenario, and 1st as the bully. It's really interesting to reflect on it, for a couple reasons. One because I don't remember it too well, two because I feel like time and experience has really detached me from it.
     I guess the detachment is the most interesting part about it. I don't think I'd ever do such a thing again, obviously (and besides... I'd also need 2 accomplices, lol). Not only that, but I can't even imagine the mindset I would have to be in to want to lay my hands on someone. Over the past few years, I've noticed that my tendency when I'm upset is to be really sad and disappointed - it's kind of hard for violence to make its way into that. Although I think it's worth mentioning that detachment also applies to many of my past experiences, so maybe it's just part of something greater going on.
     Whatever the case, I hope you enjoyed reading!

Episodes in Bullying #1

     Y'know, without really realizing it until after a good number of years, I've been involved in a LOT of bullying - both as bully and bullied. The first time I was ever bullied happened so long ago that this blog is going to come out really short (because I don't remember it very well). That's okay, though, because I haven't written in a while and I just want to try and get back into it.
     Whenever I tell someone I used to be a bully, they're typically nonplussed. I'm not certain why, because I consider myself a pretty nice guy. And wouldn't you be surprised if a pretty nice guy used to be a bully? I guess it's because I tease/make fun of people a lot... but still. I guess I'm still coming to terms with people's perception of me.
     Anyways, my first participation in an act of bullying was on the wrong end. If you're part of the school of thought that bullies are bullies because they've been bullied...well, then, this must've been the start to my bullying future.
     I was just hanging out after school one day, waiting for my parents to pick me up. One by one, my classmates began to leave me. My parents must've been awfully busy that day, because even after my classmates' departure, I was left standing around and kickin rocks while the rest of the kids at school left too. After what felt like forever (but was probably just 15-20 minutes, y'know how that can feel like forever to a kid), it was just me.
     But this wouldn't be a story without anyone else in it, right? While the number of kids around me dwindled, I noticed Jay in my periphery. I didn't really get along with the guy, so even as the rest of my classmates left I kept a good distance between the two of us. By the time everyone else was gone, though, there was just the two of us.
     I'm not really certain how it happened, but before I know it, Jay's standing next to me and we're making some small talk. Basically he was trying to engage me and I was being curt with him. At some point, he got his hands on my backpack. I can't remember if he had asked for it and I had (foolishly) given it to him, or if I just had it off and he picked it up from the ground. Whatever the case, he now had possession of my backpack.
     In Kindergarten, I had a 101 Dalmatians-themed backpack. Y'know, buncha puppies are captured to be made into dog-skin fur coats and a bunch of other dogs team up to find them and bring them home. Lovely movie - and I certainly loved that little red and white backpack with a few of the dogs from the movie on it. It was precious, honestly.
     So he's got my cherished backpack in hand at this point, and I don't remember what happens next. Did I go the "Hey! Give that back!" route? Did he tease me while playing keep away? Violence never occurred to me, and even if it did Jay was about 3 times my size (...like, literally. He was probably triple my width.) and could have whooped my ass. What I DO remember is that he tossed my backpack in the middle of the street. Like, without any type of provocation. Just because he could. Dick move, right?
     Anyways, he starts hooting and guffawing at my expense while I walk out on the street to go get my backpack. I didn't cry then, and I'm pretty sure I didn't cry when I told my mom what happened. I just had a great sense of exasperation - like why the FUCK would someone do that?? I didn't even do anything! I didn't even wanna TALK to the fuckin' guy! He walked over to ME.
     Anyways, you could see why this would frustrate a 5 year old without a strong grasp on the (un)fairness of life at the time. Heck, I still don't quite get it now. But to stop myself from going off the topic, there you have it: my first encounter as the victim of a bully. It sucked ass, I didn't like it, and it definitely left me feeling like Jackie.