Hot and Vulnerable
Many weeks ago, horrible horrible things happened. This would be the same time that I posted here requesting thoughts and/or prayers to be sent towards loved ones. I still can't say exactly what happened, but for the following to make sense, this is what you need to know.
It was traumatic. There were ambulances and police involved. And I came back to the apartment heaving and falling apart. A neighbor from across the way saw a little of what happened. Saw me crumbling on the steps outside my apartment, barely able to speak. She gathered me up and took me to her apartment to calm down on her balcony and smoke. I told her the whole fucked up story, and she tried to comfort me. She offered to take care of my oldest daughter while my sister was on her way from Modesto to take her somewhere safe.
On my way out, her boyfriend and a friend of theirs was on their couch, and they, too, tried to be comforting.
The friend was an Asian guy I'd never met before. His way of comforting me was trying to make me laugh. By imitating the broken English he didn't actually possess. Something like, "You no cry. You eat noodle. You must laugh and eat noodle."
I found it kind of odd and disturbing but tried to graciously thank him for trying to cheer me up.
Today, I came out of my apartment and found the boyfriend (now ex) and friend sitting on the stairs across from my door hanging out. We made small talk about my ever-changing hair and the book I was holding in my hands. Then, as I was making my way away from them to go change over the laundry, the friend said, "Before you go, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Do you want to go out sometime?"
The neighbor guy let his face fall in his hands shaking his head.
Now, I find my responses to situations like this thoroughly humorous. "Noooooooo," I exclaimed wide-eyed, shaking my head.
Not very nice of me in retrospect, but what the heck was he thinking? He's only interacted with me two times. During one of which, my eyes were swollen nearly shut from crying. The second, just now, I'm wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans. Hair in a bun. No make-up. And I live with my boyfriend. Which, though I'm not sure, I think he knows, since he is friends with the neighbors who know this.
He's a good looking guy, and I can't say it's not flattering, but who would ask a girl out who is so obviously troubled? I think he must be as socially awkward as these neighbors are (similar personalities attract), so maybe he just doesn't get it. Or maybe he thinks I am vulnerable enough to go out with him. But weird. Very weird.
In other news, I have some pictures to show you. To prove that I am still human and not merely words floating in the ethernet. It's been a while since I've seen most of you.
This is my first week of teaching. Well, for this year of course. This is my classroom. Do I look like your average English teacher? I suppose you can't see my purple hair, but it's there.
This is the same day. Back to School Night, if I remember correctly. I wasn't able to go to the San Jose slam for long, but when I got there, Dre was wonderful and concerned, and yeah, he's awesome.
And this is my new hair. I call it "My Little Pony hair," but a few students and Luna, my 6-year-old, say I look like a mermaid. I'll take that.
It was traumatic. There were ambulances and police involved. And I came back to the apartment heaving and falling apart. A neighbor from across the way saw a little of what happened. Saw me crumbling on the steps outside my apartment, barely able to speak. She gathered me up and took me to her apartment to calm down on her balcony and smoke. I told her the whole fucked up story, and she tried to comfort me. She offered to take care of my oldest daughter while my sister was on her way from Modesto to take her somewhere safe.
On my way out, her boyfriend and a friend of theirs was on their couch, and they, too, tried to be comforting.
The friend was an Asian guy I'd never met before. His way of comforting me was trying to make me laugh. By imitating the broken English he didn't actually possess. Something like, "You no cry. You eat noodle. You must laugh and eat noodle."
I found it kind of odd and disturbing but tried to graciously thank him for trying to cheer me up.
Today, I came out of my apartment and found the boyfriend (now ex) and friend sitting on the stairs across from my door hanging out. We made small talk about my ever-changing hair and the book I was holding in my hands. Then, as I was making my way away from them to go change over the laundry, the friend said, "Before you go, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Do you want to go out sometime?"
The neighbor guy let his face fall in his hands shaking his head.
Now, I find my responses to situations like this thoroughly humorous. "Noooooooo," I exclaimed wide-eyed, shaking my head.
Not very nice of me in retrospect, but what the heck was he thinking? He's only interacted with me two times. During one of which, my eyes were swollen nearly shut from crying. The second, just now, I'm wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans. Hair in a bun. No make-up. And I live with my boyfriend. Which, though I'm not sure, I think he knows, since he is friends with the neighbors who know this.
He's a good looking guy, and I can't say it's not flattering, but who would ask a girl out who is so obviously troubled? I think he must be as socially awkward as these neighbors are (similar personalities attract), so maybe he just doesn't get it. Or maybe he thinks I am vulnerable enough to go out with him. But weird. Very weird.
In other news, I have some pictures to show you. To prove that I am still human and not merely words floating in the ethernet. It's been a while since I've seen most of you.
This is my first week of teaching. Well, for this year of course. This is my classroom. Do I look like your average English teacher? I suppose you can't see my purple hair, but it's there.
This is the same day. Back to School Night, if I remember correctly. I wasn't able to go to the San Jose slam for long, but when I got there, Dre was wonderful and concerned, and yeah, he's awesome.
And this is my new hair. I call it "My Little Pony hair," but a few students and Luna, my 6-year-old, say I look like a mermaid. I'll take that.