(no subject)
I.
Yesterday was a day to skip work and listen to Joanna Newsom in my underwear, singing along loudly like a crazy person. I was still upset about some stupid, precarious circumstances I'd put myself under the night before, which resulted in the loss of my cell phone, but not my life, thankfully. If you haven't received my email and read this, please send me your numbers again.
II.
One of my favourite things about being a teacher-type is my newfound sense of The Private versus The Professional. I'm not a very reserved person and will tell anyone anything if they ask. But there are things you just don't, and I certainly won't ever discuss with a student in my care. The result is a feeling of Secret Hotness. Yesterday we were doing some Algebra, and I thought, "The things I get up to after school!"
III.
There was no way to know, when the impulse to bite a cheek rose some years ago, who its recepient would be. In Hindi we have a saying that means On every grain is written the name of the eater.
IV.
At the dead center of my every week is a walk through Central Park. I leave work on the Upper West and stroll east around the Reservoir, walking around this wide, winding path. It's mostly runners and puppies, but occasionally I'm on stretches completely deserted and hushed but for the sound of gravel. Can't wait till I do it in the snow.
V.
I did go to work yesterday, by the way.
Yesterday was a day to skip work and listen to Joanna Newsom in my underwear, singing along loudly like a crazy person. I was still upset about some stupid, precarious circumstances I'd put myself under the night before, which resulted in the loss of my cell phone, but not my life, thankfully. If you haven't received my email and read this, please send me your numbers again.
II.
One of my favourite things about being a teacher-type is my newfound sense of The Private versus The Professional. I'm not a very reserved person and will tell anyone anything if they ask. But there are things you just don't, and I certainly won't ever discuss with a student in my care. The result is a feeling of Secret Hotness. Yesterday we were doing some Algebra, and I thought, "The things I get up to after school!"
III.
There was no way to know, when the impulse to bite a cheek rose some years ago, who its recepient would be. In Hindi we have a saying that means On every grain is written the name of the eater.
IV.
At the dead center of my every week is a walk through Central Park. I leave work on the Upper West and stroll east around the Reservoir, walking around this wide, winding path. It's mostly runners and puppies, but occasionally I'm on stretches completely deserted and hushed but for the sound of gravel. Can't wait till I do it in the snow.
V.
I did go to work yesterday, by the way.