'smile like you mean it'

i have a pit in my stomach.

this isn't an uncommon occurence. when i was little it was my code with my mom for something being up - something being so worriesome or scary or troubling that it was physically making my stomach hurt. the phrase carried through the hardest parts of my depression when my mother was ill, and, god bless him, tripp valiantly bore the brunt of my mood ups and downs.

i have my pit now for work reasons. i'm on pins and needles waiting to hear back from the school i'd really like to teach at in the fall. i've gone through a regular interview and an intimdating one with a panel of 13 people, and i feel really good about my chances. no, make that i felt really good about my chances. but time and the wait for a decision have rubbed the shiny luster off my confidence level and i am left apprehensive and anxious.

the "open market transfer system" hasn't been the breezy, easy-peasy, switch to another school process one might imagine. it's been a nerve-wracking laundry list of steps i've been going through for the past 2 months now. i go online, go through the listed vacancies of schools, send applications, follow with cover letters and resumes, and pray they call me back. i've been to two different schools now, at the first of which i had an interview and was required to go into a classroom of kids i didn't know cold and teach them a lesson by being evaluated by my potential employers. i must have done something right because they actually offered me the position before i left the building that day. i was unable to commit on the spot though, and explained that i felt i needed to honor the obligation i had to the other school to finish the interview process, and i would let them know asap.

in hindsight i feel as though this current purgatory of no answers is some kind of karmic payback for my perhaps what might have been overconfidence after receiving that offer. i looked on that school as my 'safety' and concentrated my efforts on this second school.

the night before my big committee interview at the second school, i received a voice mail from the first school, apologizing and telling me that their "circumstances had changed" and they no longer had a position to offer me. talk about humbling. talk about a shitty confidence-crumbler right before i needed my self-assurance the most!

but like i said the interview felt good and i gave well-received responses and even made the panel members laugh a few times. i expressed my enthusiasm for kids, for english, for teaching, for making a difference - gave a good picture of what i really am all about in the classroom. it just sucks that somehow that feels like it might not be enough.

i really don't know what i am going to do if i don't get an offer. it will be back to the drawing board, casting a wider net out to schools with vacancies, considering places i had dismissed early for one reason or another. i can not stomach the idea that in thirteen days i may leave my current place of employment without a new one lined up to head toward in the fall. that's why i have a pit in my stomach now.

in extremely conscious efforts to change the subject and think about something else for a bit…

when michelle was here this weekend, we spent a good part of saturday evening in this bar in the village and the experience rockets the venue close to the top of my favorite nyc bars list. i can't ask much more than elvis pinball, a well-stocked bar, an amazing jukebox, room for a leetle bit of dancing, and great company.

of course, steadfast in my inability to temper too much of a good thing with restraint, i managed to ingest far too much alcohol and chucked in a cab later that night. some credit/blame must go to a zealous group of british boys masquerading as a faux boy band called 50 pence (i didn't get the joke til later). i befriended them earlier in the night and by the end of the evening they purchased 25 shots of tequila to share with our party. i have come to the conclusion that i am way too old for that shit but still way too young to realize it most of the time.

it is of interest, and some mortification, to note, that my once rampant drunk-dialing habit now gets focused solely on todd, who later accounts to me the many embarassing things i feel i must confide in him while inebriated. saturday's choice confessions included how ordinarily the brits would be just the type of boy-candy i'd be licking my lips and rubbing my hands over, but that there was no temptation for me because of him - "not even the bassist!" while the sentiment may have been lovely, i'm not so sure i needed to disclose these revelations at this point. at least not quite so passionately. or, er, drunkenly. how romantic.