I decided that I really wanted to post some pictures of my nephew and I. Unfortunately I can't post pictures. So I made the first changes to my pitiful website in ages, and added a page just for these pix. :-)
"http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/cs234/Noah.html"
It's amazing to me the vastly different perceptions of me that people have. For instance, my coworkers at the children's museum think that I would make a very good lawyer and that I'm somewhat anti-social. On the other hand, my supervisor at Bath and Body Works said she was shocked when she heard I was planning on law school, because I'm so nice and so social - she had me pegged for teacher. And my supervisor at the museum says she is impressed with how much I've grown as an educator over the course of this AmeriCorps year. She says I have became "a real natural, a magical educator."
And this of course is the shocker of the year for me: I adore little kids. Especially the kids in the Head Start program, who are so needy for attention and are in danger of suffocating you with affection when you give them even just a little attention. I don't think I could survive this year w/o the kids. (Of course withouth them I wouldn't be here.) But despite the impression of various coworkers, I am a very social being and thrive on love and affection - giving and receiving it. I suppose that's why I eat up all the attention from the kids; I need it almost as much as they do!! After all, I'm cut off from everyone except my boyfriend here, and I'm used to having many more people around to care about and to care about me.
But in any case, to put in one more thread before I tie this all together, I remember a comment from the friend who's name is on this blog ;-) when I made dinner for him the first time . . . he was kind of weirded out by me playing hostess and cooking and all that. He said something about I just didn't seem like that type of person; somehow an ambitious Ivy Leaguer image didn't jive with the homemaker type. I thought it was kind of funny; in my mother's house all of us were expected to be able to know how to keep a house well cleaned and well fed, regardless of whatever else we would do in life. (I say know how - not that I always practice that. ;-) )
In just the same way, I kind of doubt most people would see me as likely to be good with or fond of kids . . . in fact I myself was a bit dubious about my abilities when I took this position. It's extremely gratifying to discover otherwise. I don't have any pictures of me with the Head Start kids, but I do have pictures of me with my nephew, who I've only met this once, :-( so I'm sharing those.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Monday, April 26, 2004
*sigh* What ever happened to that generous person I used to be? Somewhere along the line I started feeling used and abused, like I really put up with too much stuff, and that whole "victim" complex is hard to get rid of. It keeps cropping up, here and there, making it hard to keep an objective sense of things. I'd blame it on my previous relationship - certainly it was during those years that it popped up - but I'm not entirely comfortable laying all the blame at somebody else's door. Perhaps it's because when I'm doing the same damn things the second time around, I'm beginning to have to face up to my own share of the blame.
Why was everything so much easier before the age of 19?
I said once that while other people sometimes judge themselves against what their mother would think of them, or what some role model would think of them, I tend to judge myself against "what would my 13 year old self think of me?" Maybe 14 or 15. Even at 16 or 17. I feel like I used to do more for my friends then - would go greater lengths for them, gladly offered to put up with some hassle, with a smile, because it might make things easier for them. But then, in those days the "hassle" was less than what it was now. And I guess because I've finally gotten cynical. If other people don't bother to do the same in return for me, why should I keep putting out the effort for them? I know I'm being vague here, but I don't feel like putting the gorey details out for the whole world.
But all in all, I think I'm too quick to overlook the efforts and the sacrifices that other people make. I've gotten into the habit in the past few years of crying "Look at how hard the world is for me!" and that's sort of silly. It puts too much focus on me. So I think I'm going to try to make it my goal every day to mentally acknowledge (or perhaps verbally, if appropriate) the sacrifices and efforts of somebody around me. Particularly the efforts or sacrifices that people make for my sake - or at least that benefit me some. That's probably the best cure for this "poor pitiful me" complex that seems to crop up at inconvenient times.
Why was everything so much easier before the age of 19?
I said once that while other people sometimes judge themselves against what their mother would think of them, or what some role model would think of them, I tend to judge myself against "what would my 13 year old self think of me?" Maybe 14 or 15. Even at 16 or 17. I feel like I used to do more for my friends then - would go greater lengths for them, gladly offered to put up with some hassle, with a smile, because it might make things easier for them. But then, in those days the "hassle" was less than what it was now. And I guess because I've finally gotten cynical. If other people don't bother to do the same in return for me, why should I keep putting out the effort for them? I know I'm being vague here, but I don't feel like putting the gorey details out for the whole world.
But all in all, I think I'm too quick to overlook the efforts and the sacrifices that other people make. I've gotten into the habit in the past few years of crying "Look at how hard the world is for me!" and that's sort of silly. It puts too much focus on me. So I think I'm going to try to make it my goal every day to mentally acknowledge (or perhaps verbally, if appropriate) the sacrifices and efforts of somebody around me. Particularly the efforts or sacrifices that people make for my sake - or at least that benefit me some. That's probably the best cure for this "poor pitiful me" complex that seems to crop up at inconvenient times.
Friday, April 16, 2004
As I was driving home from work today, I got caught behind the ice cream truck man. You know, like straight out of the 50s, ringing his little bell to tell all the children of the neighborhood that there was ice cream to be bought. Even though he was going slow I didn't mind, because it was just so random and cool - I didn't think those trucks were actually around anymore! But it's the second time this week I've seen it. He showed up with the nice weather.
When I first moved into this neighborhood it seemed very sketchy; I was intimidated and didn't want to walk down the street. Most of the signs on Cranston, the main street near me, are all in Spanish and are attached to very run-down looking places. I don't feel so intimidated anymore, even though I do realize I still live in the city and I still need to take all the usual precautions. There are lots of things I really like - and could grow to love - about the neighborhood I live in. High up there: I love that I can step out my door and see the Armory towering over the neighbors fence. It's this big yellow castle with a former parade ground turned park behind it, and it towers above the old renovated "painted ladies" that have been turned into apartments. For a look at the armory, go to:
http://home.earthlink.net/~rmcannon/cecelia/pages/cecelia%27s%20apt%20004.html
and the additional pictures show my apartment and the view out my front bay window.
Anyway, a week or two ago on a Friday it was sooo nice, and I was so sick of being inside buildings and cars, so I took a stroll over to the little park behind the Armory. I had roller bladed there a few times in the fall, and there were never very many people, but that day there were tons of people out. 50 or so young men had gotten two separate games of soccer going, and on the little playground several mothers were out with their preschoolers - so cute! - and the grass smelled so wonderful, the new grass . . . not the illegal kind! I really enjoyed the walk, and wished that I knew more of my neighbors, so that I might run into somebody I knew as I strolled around the park and enjoyed the view of the Armory and all the people having fun. And as dusk came on, I decided that I really wanted some Smirnoff - a nice little relaxing treat to end the week. But I didn't feel like getting in my car and driving down to the liquorstore in the supermarket complex. (CT doesn't allow alcohol in grocery stores.) So I said, "What the heck, I know it's practically dark now, but there are tons of people milling around on the street, most of whom are honest people unlikely to mug me. Nobody would try to hurt me with all these witnesses/helpers around." So I got my wallet and strolled a couple blocks down Cranston to Tropical Liqours and bought my Smirnoff 6 pack. (It used to be a 12 pack, but the store people had slashed the boxes in half, used packing tape to keep the bottoles inside the half box, and sold them as 6 packs. I was amused.) And I came home and enjoyed some basketball on TV and my drink.
They tell us that part of the reason the AmeriCorps stipend is so low (besides funding issues) is that they want us to have the experience of really living among the community we are serving. Just like many of the families of the preschoolers I teach, I have to have two-three jobs to pay the bills even though I get food stamps to cover all my groceries (if I budget) and some assistence for my heating and electricity. I don't live among college students any more - I live in a neighborhood, which I'm finally beginning to discover really is a neighborhood, even though it is so full of renters. It's a very humbling experience. It puts life in perspective. I can't imagine people making 3,4, and 5 times what I do as having to struggle to get by, in any way. It makes me dig deep into my own pocket and *find* some extra cash to give to charity. When I am making 3,4, and 5 times what I do now, if I ever start to make an excuse about how "I can't really afford to give right now" I hope I think back to these times and realize what an idiotic statement that is.
I guess I could sum it up in two fundamental lessons that I've learned:
1) We need a hell of a lot less to get by than what we often think we do. (We being those priviliged to a good education, a supportive family, and relative freedom from financial worry for the first 18 years of our lives. Relative to the people I now serve.)
2) People are just people. Poverty makes it a lot harder to stick to the moral high ground - sometimes you pull out moral compromises on minor things like "Oh I forgot this soda pack was under the cart and the cashier didn't see it, do I go back in and pay?" But nevertheless, I can feel safer walking down these streets because I have internalized the point that we shouldn't be so quick to feel afraid of people just because they look like they are poor. Most of them are just trying to scrap out an honest living, and they aren't going to attack you, or steal your stuff, or do whatever it is that we're so afraid they'll do.
Neither of those things are completely new revelations to me. They are things I understood intellectually before. But having lived the experiences I've lived so far, having worked with the people I have, I can live them more sincerely.
When I first moved into this neighborhood it seemed very sketchy; I was intimidated and didn't want to walk down the street. Most of the signs on Cranston, the main street near me, are all in Spanish and are attached to very run-down looking places. I don't feel so intimidated anymore, even though I do realize I still live in the city and I still need to take all the usual precautions. There are lots of things I really like - and could grow to love - about the neighborhood I live in. High up there: I love that I can step out my door and see the Armory towering over the neighbors fence. It's this big yellow castle with a former parade ground turned park behind it, and it towers above the old renovated "painted ladies" that have been turned into apartments. For a look at the armory, go to:
http://home.earthlink.net/~rmcannon/cecelia/pages/cecelia%27s%20apt%20004.html
and the additional pictures show my apartment and the view out my front bay window.
Anyway, a week or two ago on a Friday it was sooo nice, and I was so sick of being inside buildings and cars, so I took a stroll over to the little park behind the Armory. I had roller bladed there a few times in the fall, and there were never very many people, but that day there were tons of people out. 50 or so young men had gotten two separate games of soccer going, and on the little playground several mothers were out with their preschoolers - so cute! - and the grass smelled so wonderful, the new grass . . . not the illegal kind! I really enjoyed the walk, and wished that I knew more of my neighbors, so that I might run into somebody I knew as I strolled around the park and enjoyed the view of the Armory and all the people having fun. And as dusk came on, I decided that I really wanted some Smirnoff - a nice little relaxing treat to end the week. But I didn't feel like getting in my car and driving down to the liquorstore in the supermarket complex. (CT doesn't allow alcohol in grocery stores.) So I said, "What the heck, I know it's practically dark now, but there are tons of people milling around on the street, most of whom are honest people unlikely to mug me. Nobody would try to hurt me with all these witnesses/helpers around." So I got my wallet and strolled a couple blocks down Cranston to Tropical Liqours and bought my Smirnoff 6 pack. (It used to be a 12 pack, but the store people had slashed the boxes in half, used packing tape to keep the bottoles inside the half box, and sold them as 6 packs. I was amused.) And I came home and enjoyed some basketball on TV and my drink.
They tell us that part of the reason the AmeriCorps stipend is so low (besides funding issues) is that they want us to have the experience of really living among the community we are serving. Just like many of the families of the preschoolers I teach, I have to have two-three jobs to pay the bills even though I get food stamps to cover all my groceries (if I budget) and some assistence for my heating and electricity. I don't live among college students any more - I live in a neighborhood, which I'm finally beginning to discover really is a neighborhood, even though it is so full of renters. It's a very humbling experience. It puts life in perspective. I can't imagine people making 3,4, and 5 times what I do as having to struggle to get by, in any way. It makes me dig deep into my own pocket and *find* some extra cash to give to charity. When I am making 3,4, and 5 times what I do now, if I ever start to make an excuse about how "I can't really afford to give right now" I hope I think back to these times and realize what an idiotic statement that is.
I guess I could sum it up in two fundamental lessons that I've learned:
1) We need a hell of a lot less to get by than what we often think we do. (We being those priviliged to a good education, a supportive family, and relative freedom from financial worry for the first 18 years of our lives. Relative to the people I now serve.)
2) People are just people. Poverty makes it a lot harder to stick to the moral high ground - sometimes you pull out moral compromises on minor things like "Oh I forgot this soda pack was under the cart and the cashier didn't see it, do I go back in and pay?" But nevertheless, I can feel safer walking down these streets because I have internalized the point that we shouldn't be so quick to feel afraid of people just because they look like they are poor. Most of them are just trying to scrap out an honest living, and they aren't going to attack you, or steal your stuff, or do whatever it is that we're so afraid they'll do.
Neither of those things are completely new revelations to me. They are things I understood intellectually before. But having lived the experiences I've lived so far, having worked with the people I have, I can live them more sincerely.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
So, I think I've officially been driving New England highways for too long. Today on my way down I-95 from Providence to Groton during rush hour traffic, for a moment I thought how beautiful the traffic was - like a ballet of cars, like ribbons weaving their way in and out of each other.
Yes, I compared rush hour maniacs to ballet.
And on other random notes, I saw the IMAX show "Our Country" yesterday about the history of country music. The museum got some promo tickets so I took one. I wasn't impressed. I decided the subject matter just didn't warrant an IMAX movie. I don't need to see Dolly Parton six stories high.
Addendum:
Rob's comment: "You should have said, 'I don't need to see Dolly Parton's boobs six stories tall. You know, life size.' "
Yup, that's a Westbourne comment for you.
Yes, I compared rush hour maniacs to ballet.
And on other random notes, I saw the IMAX show "Our Country" yesterday about the history of country music. The museum got some promo tickets so I took one. I wasn't impressed. I decided the subject matter just didn't warrant an IMAX movie. I don't need to see Dolly Parton six stories high.
Addendum:
Rob's comment: "You should have said, 'I don't need to see Dolly Parton's boobs six stories tall. You know, life size.' "
Yup, that's a Westbourne comment for you.
Monday, April 12, 2004
Jason, this one's for you: I have now entered the world of online blogging. What to talk about tonight?
I'm hungry. My room's a mess. There's a new episode of my Alias to watch on my computer. It's hard to think deep thoughts when I'm thinking "I want food! I need to pay my phone bill! I want to watch Alias!" all simultaneously. So this is all I'm writing for tonight. :-)
I'm hungry. My room's a mess. There's a new episode of my Alias to watch on my computer. It's hard to think deep thoughts when I'm thinking "I want food! I need to pay my phone bill! I want to watch Alias!" all simultaneously. So this is all I'm writing for tonight. :-)
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