Nostalgia For An Age Yet To Come

I went to the AmeriCorps graduation ceremony today, and I had a really good time of it. To be honest, this is in part due to the fact that I have not socialized at all since I last saw Eric, three weeks ago. I mean, I've seen people through Target, but that is hardly a social situation, and the fact is that most of my co-workers speak Spanish or Haitian-Creole. So it was good to see people who I know, who I work with, who I like.

I had wondered what Ray and Daron would be doing next year, since I know neither of them is particularly happy in south Florida. Apparently, they have decided to continue to live together down here, which is good, since they are my friends, and I like them.

Anyways, I'm not going to get too into it, but it was just nice to be reminded that people still cared about me and whatnot. It was nice to know that they were interested. And it also gave me a lot of closure that the mass firing did not: I was able to talk to the other people who work in that community, and it came across as much of a surprise to them as it was for me. It was just a badly-coordinated conclusion to a badly-run program, and it heartened me that everybody in the community knew just what I was enduring in that office.

The event also (predictably) made me nostalgic about my AmeriCorps year. Not that I'd ever go back, but it was a lot of fun, and I made some good friends. So now, thanks to the wonder of the printer-scanner that I've recently brought, I present random pictures featuring my friends from that year.

Brianna, Sandra and I at the old De Porres P.L.A.C.E. Brianna and I worked as teachers at the site, and Sandra was a student there who eventually became the secretary and office coordinator. I think this picture was taken when we were celebrating my birthday.

Dawn being harassed by the Catman during my one and only trip to Key West. He came across as a faux-French pervert, and his cats kept trying to make a break for it. I still have the sticker that she is holding, too.

This is Dave and I from the very first week of AmeriCorps, in front of the fabled sculpture, "Sister, Your Mask Is Showing". This is indeed the sculpture that inspired Dave and I to write poetry while waiting for our appointments to get food stamps, which my cousin and I later recorded as a "song". The stain on the crotch is on the print of the photo, not on the shorts that I am wearing. I swear.

It was a very good year. This year will be even better: that's what I keep telling myself, and that's the story I'm sticking to.

w/e

The weekend was good. I worked on Saturday night, and got my first paycheck from Tar-jay. Whoo-hoo! Seventy dollars, in the bank! Sunday, we had an AmeriCorps reunion of sorts. Lacy was here from Minnesota, Cassie from Montana, Lynn from Philly, and Krystie from Seoul (!!!). And, of course, Daron, Ray, Mary, and I. I missed Brianna, Dave, Dawn, and Renata (who is also in South Korea), but you take your reunions where you can.

So we went over Audrey's house and had beer-butt chicken, which was interesting: it looked like the chickens were on the toilet. We played Pictionary, which was hampered slightly by the fact that the edition of the game we were using is possibly older than most of the people who were playing. For instance, one of the answers was "convoy", which I think only Audrey, Lynn, and I recognized. Lynn and I started to sing the song "Convoy", and got looks of horror from everyone else at the table. Although that may have more to do with my singing ability than anything else.

Ray and I were teamed together, and we started out slowly, but eventually we got our bearings and started doing pretty good. We got to the final space first, but we didn't end up winning. It's complicated.

A lot of pictures were taken, but not by me. If I receive any in my email, I'll consider posting them

Yesterday, I was supposed to teach my class in the evening, but Margarita left me a message telling me that we weren't going to work after all. So I spent the day napping, going out for walks, making an extremely spicy curry (using some of the chicken leftover from the night before), and doing laundry. It was nice to have a day to myself.

I Don't Feel Like Dancing

Or do I?

I went to the dance at my old AmeriCorps site yesterday. It was fun, although there were not many of my old students in attendance. In fact, there were only two: Luis, who had very little to say to me, and Pedro, who always has something to say. I was very happy to see Pedro, because he is no longer even a student at De Porres P.L.A.C.E. He was always one of my favorite students, very enthusiastic about learning English, and, while he was beset by medical problems last year, he seems to be doing much better now.

I asked him why he never sent me an e-mail, and he said that he had lost my address, so I gave it to him again, as well as my phone number. I told him that he has to have me over to have Venezuelan arepas again: he made them for us on the last day of school, and damn if they weren't the best arepas I ever had. Which isn't saying all that much, since the Colombian arepas I have had have been served cold, and they gave me the impression, through their size and texture, of unscented urinal cakes. So he insisted he would call me.

I ended up dancing with the AmeriCorps service member for the site I work at now, Jenny-Lind; Erin, the AmeriCorps service member at De Porres who is referred to as "the new Bill" -- similar to how I was "the new Mary" at the beginning of my service year; and Sandra, the secretary at De Porres. I did not freak out when pressured to dance like I have in the past, nor did I hide underneath a table, as I similarly have a history of doing. So that was good.

When the Daddy Yankee reggaeton song "Gasolina" came on, I wanted very badly to ask Sister Margaret, the director of De Porres P.L.A.C.E., to dance with me. I chickened out, though, although that seriously would have been the funniest thing ever.



In other news, having not learned my lesson the first time, I have started reading my second book by Anthony Trollope, Can You Forgive Her? I don't really know why, except that I was tired of reading fantasy short stories, and evidently the only answer was to start reading an 800-page Victorian novel. So far it's far superior to The Way We Live Now, and besides, the title was purloined by Pet Shop Boys as the title of one of my favorite songs.

I anticipate that, based on my previous experience, I should finish the book sometime within the next calendar year.

Huzzah for the Interweb!

The worst thing about living in the United States of America is, of course, the lack of Pet Shop Boys videos on television. But with the expansion of the Interweb, it has become possible to view said videos, without having to emigrate to another country that happens to be Great Britain. Exhibit A: "I'm With Stupid"...

A great song is made greater by a video that only REALLY makes sense if you've seen the video for my favorite Pet Shop Boys song, "Can You Forgive Her".

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Speaking of leaving the country, of last year's AmeriCorps team, Krystie is currently teaching English in South Korea, and Brianna (AKA, "My wife, Mrs. DePorres") is currently teaching English in Peru. (That loser Dave was briefly teaching English in Honduras, but then returned to the U.S.A., just because living there was "scary" and "dangerous". Whatta pansy.) Anywho, they both have blogs that they probably won't bother maintaining for long, so I encourage you to go check in with my former teammates at your leisure -- just click on their names.