When I agreed to teach a budgeting class at the local university grad center, I was informed that the maximum number of students they would allow to enroll was 15. As an adjunct lecturer, I would be paid for 15 hours of work. Although my scheduled time in the classroom was 14 hours, I felt OK about the one hour of pay for grading because there were only 15 students whose work I'd have to look at. Plus, I was paid separately to develop the curriculum, so although I put much more work into it as thing went along, it seemed fair enough.
Then the program allowed 30 students to enroll. Because it is a set contract amount for adjuncts, no additional pay was accorded for the 100% increase in students. However, this means that I also have a fuckload more budgets to look at and grade. It also means that my eyeballs may fall out from staring at so many numbers. If this is the case, I think I will try to get workers comp. (I don't know why that thought is causing me to laugh maniacally, but it is.)
Husband is leaving for a business trip to Europe (Paris, Rome, Milan, and London) on Sunday. On the 15th, I am going away with my sister and her husband to celebrate my sister's first spring break as a teacher. Husband could not join us due to work, so that sucks, but I am still looking forward to a fun 5 days with my sister. When I visited my parents in Chicago in December, Dana was not able to make it over there from Iowa due to weather conditions, so I have not seen my chicita since October. My hope is that I can finish all these stupid budgets before then, and retain my eyesight at the same time. I guess while Husband is gone, I can do a budget grading marathon. Oh fun times.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Miracles and Non-Miracles
Yesterday, I was offered a part-time program developer job at a small grassroots nonprofit organization in the Bronx! It occurred to me that although I have thus far spent nearly my entire career working with community-based organizations by providing technical assistance and training, I never worked at one. I think this is going to be very interesting. Just as important, the organization does not work in the child care field. Step one away from work that makes me miserable! Hurray!
After my interview, I headed further north in the Bronx to take some pictures of the Lourdes of America shrine for Off the Beaten (Subway) Track. (Yes, a church built a replica of the miraculous healing grotto in Lourdes, France so that parishioners here can enjoy its superpowers. I love it.) Rain fell from the sky in buckets. (Yes, anonymous grammar hawk, I get that this is a metaphor.) I worried that I would not get a good shot, but lo and behold, the second I stepped into the church yard, the rain stopped. I snapped away, filled my empty Snapple bottle with miracle water (the same water source that serves all city residents), and went on my way. As I left the churchyard, it began raining like cats and dogs. (Yes, anonymous grammar hawk, this is a simile.)
Then last night Clinton took Texas and Ohio, giving her the ammo she needs to justify her continued ego trip - I mean, run for the presidential nomination - although it could destroy the Democrats' chance at winning the White House in November by inciting anger, resentment, and bad will all around. I'm not sure how many times I can say this, but damn, I miss Pat Schroeder. What a class act. The thought of a McCain presidency is overwhelmingly depressing, so I will try to not dwell on it.
Perhaps it is time to register for cheese making lessons. This way, I'll at least have some concept of how to fulfill my ridiculous plan B, which is to move to a sheep and goat farm in the UK if the US is subject to four more years of Republican rule. My anxiety is like a bull in a china shop mixing kashi with borscht.
After my interview, I headed further north in the Bronx to take some pictures of the Lourdes of America shrine for Off the Beaten (Subway) Track. (Yes, a church built a replica of the miraculous healing grotto in Lourdes, France so that parishioners here can enjoy its superpowers. I love it.) Rain fell from the sky in buckets. (Yes, anonymous grammar hawk, I get that this is a metaphor.) I worried that I would not get a good shot, but lo and behold, the second I stepped into the church yard, the rain stopped. I snapped away, filled my empty Snapple bottle with miracle water (the same water source that serves all city residents), and went on my way. As I left the churchyard, it began raining like cats and dogs. (Yes, anonymous grammar hawk, this is a simile.)
Then last night Clinton took Texas and Ohio, giving her the ammo she needs to justify her continued ego trip - I mean, run for the presidential nomination - although it could destroy the Democrats' chance at winning the White House in November by inciting anger, resentment, and bad will all around. I'm not sure how many times I can say this, but damn, I miss Pat Schroeder. What a class act. The thought of a McCain presidency is overwhelmingly depressing, so I will try to not dwell on it.
Perhaps it is time to register for cheese making lessons. This way, I'll at least have some concept of how to fulfill my ridiculous plan B, which is to move to a sheep and goat farm in the UK if the US is subject to four more years of Republican rule. My anxiety is like a bull in a china shop mixing kashi with borscht.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Big Day Ahead
Can Hillary Clinton carry Ohio and/or Texas in today's primary, and live to fight another month? I voted for Obama in the NYS primary, and honestly it will make me sad if Clinton loses today, but I am already sick of this election. The longer this drags on, the more fear overtakes me. I can't deal with another Republican administration. Whatever happens today, I hope that Democrats don't splinter and vote for McCain, which is an insane/scary "my-candidate-didn't-win-so-take-that" conclusion, but something I've heard too many say they would do.
How will my job interview go? I think it will be fine. I'm excited about it. Although I think I'd like this job and would be sad to not get it, I'm oddly more concerned with the primary.
Is it possible for me to take a decent picture of the Lourdes of America shrine at St. Lucy's Church in the Bronx for my book? Given my extremely limited photographic skills, this is the least likely of my questions to have a positive outcome. I'd have a friend photograph the place, but I'll be sort of in the neighborhood anyway for the job interview, so I'll give it a whirl myself. If it doesn't come out well, I can always go back with someone who is actually talented.
Fortunately, I'll have answers to at least some of these thorny questions by the end of the day. Stay tuned for more excitement. [Cliffhanger music playing...]
How will my job interview go? I think it will be fine. I'm excited about it. Although I think I'd like this job and would be sad to not get it, I'm oddly more concerned with the primary.
Is it possible for me to take a decent picture of the Lourdes of America shrine at St. Lucy's Church in the Bronx for my book? Given my extremely limited photographic skills, this is the least likely of my questions to have a positive outcome. I'd have a friend photograph the place, but I'll be sort of in the neighborhood anyway for the job interview, so I'll give it a whirl myself. If it doesn't come out well, I can always go back with someone who is actually talented.
Fortunately, I'll have answers to at least some of these thorny questions by the end of the day. Stay tuned for more excitement. [Cliffhanger music playing...]
Monday, March 3, 2008
My Daytime TV Diet
So Des reports that she subsists on a steady diet of game shows while she is unemployed. While I wait for people to call me back on the various projects that I am working on, I devised the following menu of non-online entertainment:
America's Next Top Model reruns on VH1 and MTV
Project Runway reruns on Bravo
America's Best Dance Crew reruns on MTV
From these fine programs, I learn many things. First, Husband's assertion that fashion designers are misogynists is obvious from watching the shit that the designers produce and judges fawn over on Project Runway. The leading designer, Christian, is a young punk who fails every challenge that requires him to work with a real woman (i.e. - a woman who lost weight; a teenage girl) instead of a 9 foot tall model who weighs 84.5 pounds. Even when he doing his "best" work, I stare at it and wonder why any person on earth would wear something that fucked up and weird. I guess fashion is about making women look like fools and idiots.
On America's Next Top Model, I learned that Tyra Banks is hilarious. I also discovered that I will never be a model for several reasons that go beyond my 5'1" frame that carries 125 pounds. My biggest challenge is distinguishing expressions. Tyra is always demonstrating the difference between something like "smiling eyes" and "mysterious eyes," but they look the same to little old me. Further, even if I had the body, looks, and skills, I doubt I could put on the ridiculous outfits that designers create without severe mockery and snickering.
Thanks to America's Best Dance Crew, I discovered that I do not use complementary expressions like, "That is sick!" or "That's tight!," nearly enough. I also saw that my roller skating and gymnastics skills could be developed more. There are no wider social implications from this show, as far as I can tell. It's just fun.
Who says that television is not educational?
From these fine programs, I learn many things. First, Husband's assertion that fashion designers are misogynists is obvious from watching the shit that the designers produce and judges fawn over on Project Runway. The leading designer, Christian, is a young punk who fails every challenge that requires him to work with a real woman (i.e. - a woman who lost weight; a teenage girl) instead of a 9 foot tall model who weighs 84.5 pounds. Even when he doing his "best" work, I stare at it and wonder why any person on earth would wear something that fucked up and weird. I guess fashion is about making women look like fools and idiots.
On America's Next Top Model, I learned that Tyra Banks is hilarious. I also discovered that I will never be a model for several reasons that go beyond my 5'1" frame that carries 125 pounds. My biggest challenge is distinguishing expressions. Tyra is always demonstrating the difference between something like "smiling eyes" and "mysterious eyes," but they look the same to little old me. Further, even if I had the body, looks, and skills, I doubt I could put on the ridiculous outfits that designers create without severe mockery and snickering.
Thanks to America's Best Dance Crew, I discovered that I do not use complementary expressions like, "That is sick!" or "That's tight!," nearly enough. I also saw that my roller skating and gymnastics skills could be developed more. There are no wider social implications from this show, as far as I can tell. It's just fun.
Who says that television is not educational?
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Passing on the Stuffing
At a party yesterday, a friend explained how she passed the time at work by researching on the internet how paraplegic men have sex. (Seriously, how on earth did people kill time at work before the internet?) She learned that men with some blood flow to their penises can engage in a practice called stuffing. Stuffing is exactly what it sounds like: cram it in, and hope that there will be some reaction to the action. Sometimes this works; others, there's just some raw genitals at the end.
Before I even discovered stuffing had a name, I realized that I was metaphorically familiar with the practice. For the last few years, I've been trying to forge a career based on it. Each time a job came along that didn't really excite me, I tried to make the pieces fit and hoped that I'd get some satisfaction from it. There were times when he work made me satisfied, but generally I felt tired and sore from the effort.
Last week, the always insightful Maria Niles wrote a post on BlogHer about the benefits of closing doors. The post hit me. How long have I said that I didn't want to work on child care policy any more, only to take every job that came my way because I feared that I would never work again? Too long. If I was serious, I'd need to really close the door on my child care policy career. It would be scary, but it didn't have to be permanent; I could always walk through it again in the future. My skills won't go anywhere, but I'll never fully explore my other options until I move on.
Two days after I had my epiphany, I went to have my fortune read. The tarot card reader told me that I am surrounded by opportunity, but my biggest obstacle to success is myself.
"You like things to happen in a linear fashion," Katie noted, "and the way things are happening now makes you feel insecure. You have to let go to get ahead."
On Friday, when I got a call and email about a consulting job with the city, my first impulse was to take it. What else am I doing now except trying to get pictures for my book about unusual New York, writing an article for Just Cause, blogging at BlogHer, and finishing up an article about termination for an encyclopedia of sex? If I didn't take the job, I could be homeless, starving, and unloved because Husband would get mad that I didn't work. My heart raced. I was standing in front of the door. All I had to do was call the lady at the city back and make the arrangements.
That's when I decided that I didn't want to be stuffed any more. I took Katie's words to heart, and took a deep breath. Husband would not drop me because I said no to a job to which I had reservations. In my mind, I quietly shut the child care door. It felt good.
Before I even discovered stuffing had a name, I realized that I was metaphorically familiar with the practice. For the last few years, I've been trying to forge a career based on it. Each time a job came along that didn't really excite me, I tried to make the pieces fit and hoped that I'd get some satisfaction from it. There were times when he work made me satisfied, but generally I felt tired and sore from the effort.
Last week, the always insightful Maria Niles wrote a post on BlogHer about the benefits of closing doors. The post hit me. How long have I said that I didn't want to work on child care policy any more, only to take every job that came my way because I feared that I would never work again? Too long. If I was serious, I'd need to really close the door on my child care policy career. It would be scary, but it didn't have to be permanent; I could always walk through it again in the future. My skills won't go anywhere, but I'll never fully explore my other options until I move on.
Two days after I had my epiphany, I went to have my fortune read. The tarot card reader told me that I am surrounded by opportunity, but my biggest obstacle to success is myself.
"You like things to happen in a linear fashion," Katie noted, "and the way things are happening now makes you feel insecure. You have to let go to get ahead."
On Friday, when I got a call and email about a consulting job with the city, my first impulse was to take it. What else am I doing now except trying to get pictures for my book about unusual New York, writing an article for Just Cause, blogging at BlogHer, and finishing up an article about termination for an encyclopedia of sex? If I didn't take the job, I could be homeless, starving, and unloved because Husband would get mad that I didn't work. My heart raced. I was standing in front of the door. All I had to do was call the lady at the city back and make the arrangements.
That's when I decided that I didn't want to be stuffed any more. I took Katie's words to heart, and took a deep breath. Husband would not drop me because I said no to a job to which I had reservations. In my mind, I quietly shut the child care door. It felt good.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Happy March!
Just sayin'. I'm going into March like a very nervous lion with a lot of decisions to make (should I hunt now or later? go where the gazelles usually hang out, even though I hate that pasture, or try to find a new place to harvest gazelle meat? maybe I should forget about the gazelles altogether and focus on zebras?), so I hope that I end the month like a very content lamb, albeit not one that has no idea she is about to turn into lamb chops.
God, I love metaphors.
God, I love metaphors.
Yogurt Review #3 - The Greek Gods Do Poseidon Proud
While I think it is good to review yogurt and pudding on CUSS, it occurred to me that some food snobs might not want to read a yogurt review on a blog that has "Snatch" in the title. I've been rejected from ad networks and syndication before because of my blog title, and I decided not to compromise CUSS. Hence, from now on, yogurt and pudding reviews will appear at Live Active Cultures, which I hope will evolve into a group blog. (HINT, HINT...)
Just in case you don't feel like clicking over there for today's thoughts on The Greek Gods plain nonfat yogurt, I thought I would share an image with you from the company's website:
They named the yogurt Poseidon, and put up a big wacky image full of pictures of the yogurt cup and the nutrition info. How can you now want to know more about what a yogurt named for Poseidon tastes like?
Just in case you don't feel like clicking over there for today's thoughts on The Greek Gods plain nonfat yogurt, I thought I would share an image with you from the company's website:
They named the yogurt Poseidon, and put up a big wacky image full of pictures of the yogurt cup and the nutrition info. How can you now want to know more about what a yogurt named for Poseidon tastes like?
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