Thoughts I had during the day.

8AM I considered asking UberEats to deliver a coffee to the third floor of the charter high school  I was subbing for that day…only to go down a level and order “acceptable” coffee for $.55  during my break.  I had weighed my finances. I mentally upgraded the teaching lounge coffee to “acceptable” and made small talk with a Phys. Ed teacher. My salad from home was dry.

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At what point do teachers become desensitized? I taught a 17 year old mother of two long division and got her to smile. I suggested she watch “Homeless to Harvard” sometime for inspiration. A troubled ninth grader actually managed to solve a few problems without throwing a fit. A sweet natured tenth grader fetched me water and I helped a sullen sophomore believe in himself. My teachers inspired me to teach. One even ultimately adopted a student. I can see myself one day adopting an adolescent.

Fifth Period. Three curious boys ask about how much I make. I give them a ballpark figure but tell them with an M.A and with more hard work, I would be making more. “My uncle makes bank!” one of them tells me. They ask me how much I could expect to make after ten years of teaching. I give them the highest figure I can. “Damn!” they  respond. Another asks why I don’t hand out candy. “Because there might be diabetics.” “But miss, we’re all diabetic!” one of them complains. From a purely observational point of view of the higher than average BMI, I would not be the least bit surprised. One of them complains about how Michelle Obama ruined their lunches and now their lunches have no taste. Well…I have nothing to say there.

One of my more humorous moments in teaching came from my first time subbing at a middle school. Those kids are fun but hard work. Key word: Classroom Management.  A security officer had the best classroom management skills. As soon as he entered a classroom, the kids were silent. I was teaching the kids what a “strong claim” was and how to use “evidence” to back it up. I had them write down 5 claims about anything as long as they used evidence. I used the good-natured security officer as an example. Sample claim: “Mr. ___ is cool.” I said that was an opinion. But I wanted them to back it up with evidence anyways. The girl responded, “B阿雷科技 - 1000个免费SSR节点，一键订阅 #阿雷科技 ...:一款🔴媲美Google相册 苹果Icloud良心APP，不限速，无限空间，永久免费，android ios都能用 阿雷科技 297 views · October 10, 2021

My grandfather would be a great teacher. He took the liberty of writing out a 3 page lesson plan just on black holes, Einstein, and physics 101 for the kids tomorrow. Now if only I could get a wig, dress and anti-aging makeup for every time he did this.

“Why do you use the letter Z to unlock your phone?” my grandfather asked me the other day. I am impressed he noticed that and secondly don’t know how to answer that. I’ve always been a fan of the 免费ssr飞机场. It was not only the first time I connected a Robin Hood character to my hometown of Los Angeles, but more importantly the beginning of my recognition of sex appeal.

We were flying back from a family reunion in Vancouver to LAX, a 150-180 minute flight that usually is not delayed or without incident. I was awaken at around 10:15pm to learn that there had been a “security breach” at LAX, and we were diverting, at a sharp angle, to Las Vegas. This should be…exciting.

I have never been to Las Vegas but I had been to the airport and in a failed attempt to teach me that you always lose money at slot machines, my mother had somehow turned $5.00 into $20.00. I remember the intent and the fact she tried two times to show me how gambling always loses you money…but I remember more her cheer at having her latte and my hot chocolate paid for by her winnings. I had to stay a safe distance from the slot machine due to my, well, being a child, and a airport security officer telling me to stay a safe distance from the machine and my mother.

I tried to keep a positive attitude. I looked out the window and saw stars. You cannot really see so many stars in Los Angeles. The smog, after all and Las Vegas is in a desert. The strip looked quite grand from a distance….but the closer we got to landing, the trashier it looked.

Upon landing is when news of a “false alarm” spread. I then learned that an actor who “didn’t have time” to change and possessed a “plastic sword” was deemed a threat and arrested at LAX by several policemen. The actor won a “lifetime role” as the airport “bogeyman.”

The blogger “ScallywagandVagabond” also posted the videos on the above link of panicked travelers and of the aforementioned arrest. I could not help but compare these passengers as frightened sheep because the Fox aka Zorro was there with imaginary ssr节点2021每日更新 which were never identified.

Zorro was the secret identity of  a character named Don de le Vega created in a pulp fiction in 1919 by Johnston McCulley (Wiki) most likely based on historical Mexican/Californian folk hero Joaquin Murrieta.  His schtick is his standing up for the everyman and indigenous locals of California/Mexico, and publicly shaming his villains (authority figures) The actor who may have legitimately had “no time to change” or as Twitter User Gary Lineker 免费ssr飞机场 on his way to Vegas. I also thought of the possibility of this being an elaborate piece of performance art. Did the actor deliberately dress up as Zorro and use LAX as a stage or venue to voice or raise issues about Chicano rights, security issues, or illustrate the absurdity that permeates our society, especially when there is almost no found cause to create such a panic at the airport?

This kind of panic happened at JFK less than two weeks ago.  Mass hysteria. It manifests itself in weird diseases, 小飞机场 ssr, and more. Gary Small describes it as a “social contagion.”If my seat mate is anxious, then so am I.  He writes, “When people are predisposed to overreact to any fearful stimulus, mass hysteria can instantaneously take over a crowd.”

There has been a lot of articles lately on epigenetics, the study on how environmental changes can impact not just your DNA but that of your children, grandchildren and so forth. Trauma can cause certain genes to express themselves differently by turning them “on” or “off.” Renown writer Siddhartha Mukherjee wrote a beautiful article on the topic, which itself was an excerpt of sorts of his bestseller  The Gene.

Keeping calm and carrying on isn’t just a cutesy British expression. It has scientific truth to it. My aunt Sara Lazar, a scientist and scholar travels the world to discuss how meditation can literally remap your brain for the better. Here’s a TedTalk she did a few years ago. Some people find it more challenging to meditate. I’m one of those people. By nature, I’m rather high-strung and the moment there’s heavy stomach-lurching turbulence on an airplane, I have to put in a lot more  effort to not only breathe, but to well, meditate. I’ve tried at least a dozen meditation apps on my phone and have the fortune/misfortune of overthinking everything. It gets not only on my nerves but on everybody else’s. Imagine your brain is like a random page out of James Joyce’s book. Now pretend the book is never-ending and you cannot quite quiet it. You leap from one thought topic to another until you put yourself on a task or on a goal on your to-do list to focus in on. When there’s too much time or space, my brain has a little too much fun. I find myself criticizing the meditation speaker’s voice, focussing so much on the content and not so much on the goal at hand. When the turbulence was really bad once, I flung my smartphone away from the seat from me in anger and gave in to breathing from a paper bag. And the app was one that normally works with me 90%of the time: pizzazz. I use it daily as a sleep aid or for a power nap before a high-pressure appointment like a job interview. So I can meditate…it just takes extra effort.

We landed in Vegas but couldn’t get off the plane. They turned off the AC and no longer served water. We waited an hour or more to take off. First, there was an almost-take-off. But then they forgot to the customs forms. So the plane had to taxi back to the gate. We waited another 20-25 minutes. It was a smelly sauna. I think someone sitting nearby had a burrito chimichanga for dinner right before boarding the plane. I could imagine their future relief upon having the grand opportunity to…relieve themselves. It was a subtly spicy and sweaty scented tube with no water available because the attendants had to remain in their “jump seats.” My migraine had returned with a vengeance. Finally, we took off. For real, this time.

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When we tried to suggest he go from Hollywood-Silverlake-Glendale, the Glendale gentleman, a high-strung father of four (or five)said he needed to get up early so he “won.” I didn’t care at that point because another 30 minutes of being carsick was not much of a big deal.

At 4AM, I took more Advil for my returned migraine and went to bed. There’s a funny thing about  migraines though: they don’t quite easily leave when you want them to. They probably packed extra bags and may hide for now but will creep back when you least expect them to…such as when you first wake up. The struggle with debilitating migraines is in not how you treat them, but how you behave, and with grace while inflicted with them. Many have unfortunately born the brunt of my anger and pain. I laughed at the situation last night when I was “randomly selected” for extra scrutiny, and again when the flight attendant asked how I enjoyed “my free massage.” I joked back that I “missed out” and would have liked a scalp massage, gratis. Instead, they unzipped my suitcase, and my scatterbrained migraine self, realizing they forgot to zip it up, accidentally emptied my luggage in the security line. Fun times.

It’s taken me more than 90 minutes to write this. I shall go back to hiding under my ice wrap for now. Keep calm and carry on.

I am now listening to some esoteric windchimey free music in preparation for actually doing a Silverlake podcast.

I have found the sheep lady of Silverlake. Her name is Rosa  and I’m so excited to actually have the chance to interview her hopefully next week. She remembered me from my text message and private message on NextDoor.com. Some subjects whom I will interview usually wouldn’t mind a coffee. She welcomes trimmings from your hard (anytime!) for her sheep. I don’t know how much will suffice or exactly how many sheep she has on the hill between where I live with my 87 year old grandfather and the new trendy-for-millennials much anticipated 365 that opened with much hoopla yesterday. She’s also a beekeeper…a new project of hers or one I newly noticed with a homemade sign I saw on her park truck down the hill from where I live.

So my first podcast episode, a rather ambitious undertaking I will admit, will feature an interview with her and an interview with Tales from the Bus’s blogger好用的付费ssr, a Russian translator based in Los Feliz, on her observations on the future of public transportation in L.A.

Musicians wanting to submit a 30 second sample of their up and coming music are welcome, especially if they live in Silverlake or in the adjacent communities.

I’ve decided to resume several projects I’ve neglected. I have a handwritten travelogue from former Kingdom of Yugoslavia from 1934 that I’ve wanted to have translated and possibly publish it in an academic context.
I would like to pursue my personal interest as well and make a small documentary in the next year as well as organize a monthly discussion group locally. Let’s just say I shall be busy in a good way.

I live in Silver Lake, one of the most hipster neighborhoods in the US. “mid-east” side of Los Angeles is known for its mid-century modern architecture,  and variety of vegan restaurants and boutique shops at Sunset junction. Upon my recent return, I’ve been noticing a few cool happy hours and tried a few out. Here are three of my personal favorite happy hours one can find on a late weekday afternoon after work. It’s also a great way to start a weekend early after work on a Friday.

Hyperion Public

2538 Hyperion Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90027

(Happy Hour is Monday to Friday from 4-7pm.)

The Happy Hour is not only a steal, but the beer selection, sliders, and overall vibe make this a very appealing place to hang with friends. Who can resist a laid-back place like this? They even have weekly trivia nights!

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Casita del Campo

1920 Hyperion Ave, 90039 Los Angeles

(Happy Hour is Monday-Friday from 3-7pm. $2 off appetizers, $1 off well drinks)

This Mexican restaurant has been around for over 50 years and you will soon learn why. I come here for the enchiladas or chicken in mole sauce. They have an enclosed patio that makes dining and drinking al fresco extra appealing.

Cliff’s Edge

3626 Sunset Blvd., Silver Lake

(Happy Hours: Mon-Thurs 6pm-midnight, Friday 6pm-2am)

This is perhaps the most quaint and budget-friendly of the three. Beer is only $3 and there is a daily bartender special.  Thursday nights from 6-7pm they also have an Oyster special, and they won an award for “Best Patio.”

Surprisingly, I enjoyed helping some older neighbors in my community embrace social media in their personal job search and figured I could provide a source of help in this way locally.

For the price of a cup of coffee, I would be happy to assist others in their job search and reenergize mine.

I just wanted to put the word out there that if you find yourself flummoxed by job searching, or by social media in general, I’m your gal.

My family and I acquired a cat through 好用的付费ssr. A neighbor’s Russian blue had a tryst with the local tom cat and this was the result:

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Two racks done, three more to go. But first, a catnap.

Dear Readers,

It’s been a long time. I just moved back to Los Angeles, my hometown and have joined many in my generation in the great Job Search. My background is rather unconventional. I went to Poland for graduate school, and stayed an extra year to gain experience. Well, I taught English (as a foreign language) for about a year, and after having many adventures in Europe, decided to come back and find more work.

I have made lists, rewritten several dozen cover letters, my resume several times, and met quite a few interesting people in my job interviews. I even did a two day internship in downtown Los Angeles and learned so much in those two days.

Meanwhile, to amuse largely myself and maybe some of you, I’ve made a list of ten interesting “once in a lifetime” jobs I’ve found on Craig’s List and other sources.

1. Actor/Actress Wanted for the Role of “Manic Zombie” in “Panic Mountain.” Responsibilities range from being able to work weekends crawling around on all four’s, presumably moaning, and scaring the clients. Also, in the advertisement, “Unique or abnormal traits are acceptable for certain roles such as exceptionally tall or short statures, skin modifications, amputees.” In other words, the disabled are welcome. Compensation: 225 dollars for a 28 hours of work. That is below minimum wage (currently now 9/hour in L.A). But lodging is provided! Right, in a cabin with bunkbeds less comfortable than your own bed. If you have leadership skills and want to earn an additional 100/month, you can apply as the “resistance leader.”
2. “My Cat from Hell” is casting for cat ladies with codependent cats (or the other way around.) You will get 800 dollars to feed your cat plus “consultative services,” is this code for therapy, on camera, where you will be immortalized on late night television? The funny (or sad) thing is I’m tempted to apply. I have a cat who is definitely quirky, and I’m thinking of how many cans of “Fussie Cat” I can get for her with that much money…not to mention some starring roles on television and the silver screen.
3. “Do you have a secret?” This is probably one of those Jerry Springer-produced shows like Steve Wilkos (yes, I confess I spent/wasted some time watching his program(s) when I was sick in bed once). If you want to tell your husband/wife that you more than tipped the wait staff the other day and get paid for it, be my guest. I hope it’s worth the risk.
4. If you are older than 75 and in dire need of food, then this is for you. Pros if you like acting in someone’s film school project. Cons if you are a misanthrope.
5. If you are a pop culture junkie and want to win a hundred grand, then this is for you.

I love the word culling. It can mean the art of letting go. Sorting. Tidying. Deciding which things you keep and which ones you let go. 

I used to have a lot of clothes. I’ve learned to give away or donate most of the ones that I outgrew in style or size or that were just not in fashion anymore. As for things, I’m pretty simple when it comes to jewelry. I have the Moroccan silver ring that I selected and that my mother bought for me when I was 14. I have the amber necklace that I wear every day that a family friend bought me for Christmas and I have a pearl ring from Macedonia and a funky handmade ring I bought in Odessa, Ukraine. And I have my mother’s pearl necklace she wore on her wedding day.

The most prized possession I have of my mother is a framed photo of us together on Children’s Tidepool in La Jolla Shores right around the time the sea lions came and reclaimed their territory and this children’s’ pool became a birthing and resting spot for San Diego’s sea lions.

In the photo I wear black and white striped leggings and a toothy grin. This is years before she became sick and back when she had her trademark low-lighted auburn curly-wavy hair at shoulder length. We are both crouching next to each other and this is back when you could get as close as an arm length’s distance from the seals. If we wanted to, we could very easily had touched these majestic creatures. Now a days, these marine mammals are roped off and if you get so much as thirty feet away, an environmental activist with a loudspeaker will yell at you.

My mother and I would visit La Jolla and San Diego every year and stay with my grandfather or when my mother found a good deal, we would stay one night at either the Pink Lady or the Del. I loved San Diego so much. The air was cleaner, the beaches prettier and everyone seemed more relaxed and laid-back. In fact, I liked it so much that I went to undergrad here as well at UCSD.

During my first semester at university, when my mother was dying of lung cancer, the kind that killed the late Dana Reeve. And no she did not smoke. It seemed wholly unfair. My mother did air force exercises reinterpreted for ladies and went on two long strenuous walks in the hills twice a day. She did crunches, push-ups (the man kind), and lifted 10 lb. weights. She was buff, always had a tan, and knew how to enjoy life. She liked to go to movies, TV-related press conferences, played ping pong with me at posh parties, and did a whole day at the beach prepared. We would picnic with lawn chairs, big umbrellas and avocado or peanut butter sandwiches, melon, and lots of fruit available. For dessert, we would end the day by sharing a ginormous slice of either strawberry shortcake or key lime pie at ssr机场网站in Malibu.

  These are memories I hold on to. What I have left of her physically are the cremated ashes of our family dog Linda, the black and white terrier she surprised me with one summer day in 1996. The geraniums she watered every day on our back porch. Her many boxes and boxes of writing from yellowed newspaper articles she published in the 1970’s until blog posts/articles she wrote within days of her death in March 2007. I have scrapbooks and photo albums. Her purse(s). Her black winter coat she bought for a trip to London in 2003. Her collection of coins that I keep with me wherever I am. Funky dress-up jewelry she collected as a fashion writer in the 1980’s. Delicate scarves I always pack with me but never use. Purple suede lace up go-go boots from her college days. The rocking chair that I remember her reading to me on. Quirky artistic reproductions that she inherited from her gay fashion designer friend who passed away less than two years later she did.

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His death was unexpected. 

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My mother was the one who taught me the art of letting go. She could not speak due to her condition but in her last moment of consciousness, she hugged me one last time. I cannot write more about this for personal reasons.

Her clothes were matronly and in different sizes. She had lost and gained weight dramatically over the nearly five years she struggled with this disease. When she was in remission and in better health, she had a hearty warmth about her and wore overalls. When things were bad, she was thin and fit into my size 4 clothes.

   Giving away and donating her clothes and calling for things to be donated to her favorite charities in lieu of flowers were what she would have wanted.

Not accumulating stuff and constant culling of my wardrobe and material goods were habits I especially adopted after her death. Maybe it’s a fear of “What if I die tomorrow?” What is the significance of my things? I do most of my writing and work cyberly like most people nowadays and the most delicate items I have collected and hold on to are for what I imagine to be my future home.

But that then begs the question on what  is home. I hate the cliche “home is where the heart is.” But what if your heart belongs to too many people and places? To make my home more homey, the few aesthetic items I try to bring with me are

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2) the Menorah that my mother used to celebrate the holidays with me 

3) framed photograph of my mother and I

4) the slightly frayed poster of 免费ssr飞机场 that once hung in my father’s office on Wilshire Blvd. It brings back memories of me visiting him in his two room office and him generously giving me a few Walkers biscuits out of his several tins.

5) my Bosnian coffeepot and Armenian coffee set and other tiny souvenirs from my travels. 

6) my favorite antique books 

When it comes to material objects, my clothes are the first and easiest thing to get rid of. Of course I always hold on to and keep the green African tribal handmade dress my friend Mercy gave me. Or the yellow strapless dress I wore to my friend Jenny’s wedding. 

After losing someone, it is too easy to gain perspective. At the end of the day, can you take your dresses with you to the great beyond?