Friday, January 25, 2013
They Ain't Never Seen No Nigga In A Supermarket Before
Heard about the Django thing, "They aint never seen no nigga on a horse before." That's how I felt in Megamart as people constantly stared at me while shopping on my sick day. One Asian dude even asked where I was from. Guessed Africa, of course, and apologized when I said America. I guess because it was middle of workday. And since I never see young black (that means African here) males alone doing things the ex-pats or Arabs do, I can understand the stares. A guy who LOOKS like me is almost always doing security or working in some kinda service or labor. Or occasionally with a group of others at the mall, or looking like he's on the way to/coming from some athletic endeavor. Never just strolling the streets and looking for a good pear in the produce section. Especially without an ex-pat-looking wife. But hearing me speak makes all the difference. "Ohhh, he's American." Just happens to not look like Americans here are supposed to look. So I get it; they ain't never seen no nigga in a supermarket before.
Monday, January 14, 2013
International Differentiation
This is necessary when an American teaches British math in a Middle Eastern school.
Spice World
What the hell kinda saffron is 30 bucks?? Are they, like, selling spices to the 15th century Spanish monarchy or something? For this price, this spice better induce orgasm.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Exit Survey
I just got a letter from NYC's public school system asking me to fill out an exit survey, following my resignation. This is what I told them at the end, you know, when they ask you if there's anything else you'd like to say:
"My overwhelming reason for leaving is the amount of paperwork and assessment required of teachers, particularly special educators. There is very little time to teach and there is always some deadline for some kind of work that takes a lot of time away from teaching. It is rarely clear how this makes us better teachers or affects student achievement. On top of the pressure to start teaching to the state tests, which starts from the beginning of the school year if your school had a bad report card grade the previous year (or even if it didn't), it all makes for unhappy teachers who are at risk of burnout within a couple of years of starting their careers. And I experienced this even though I was always supported at my schools, had adequate resources and parent involvement and was very prepared for, and capable of handling, the challenges of being a NYC public school teacher. I know I was very good at my job. But I rarely had the chance to do it."
Even with all of the challenges I'm having here, I'm very confident in my decision, and I'd make it again if I had to.
"My overwhelming reason for leaving is the amount of paperwork and assessment required of teachers, particularly special educators. There is very little time to teach and there is always some deadline for some kind of work that takes a lot of time away from teaching. It is rarely clear how this makes us better teachers or affects student achievement. On top of the pressure to start teaching to the state tests, which starts from the beginning of the school year if your school had a bad report card grade the previous year (or even if it didn't), it all makes for unhappy teachers who are at risk of burnout within a couple of years of starting their careers. And I experienced this even though I was always supported at my schools, had adequate resources and parent involvement and was very prepared for, and capable of handling, the challenges of being a NYC public school teacher. I know I was very good at my job. But I rarely had the chance to do it."
Even with all of the challenges I'm having here, I'm very confident in my decision, and I'd make it again if I had to.
2013: Important To Be Nice
Maybe I'm getting old. Ok, I KNOW I'm getting old. But you know what would be nice in 2013, IMO?
Niceness.
Like, let's give the snideness a rest. Ease up on the "clever sarcasm" and "biting wit." ESPECIALLY if you're 30+.
I know, it was fun as hell when we learned how to use it in our 20s by watching and reading our favorite movies and shows and books in our teens. But lets give it a break now.
Plus, we now have a generation of unfunny youth coming up who think mean humor (that becomes more of an oxymoron as you age, at least it has for me) is witty. Or maybe they think its the only humor.
If you're not getting paid to be snarky, you just sound unnecessarily mean, smugly self-satisfied and annoying much of the time. You're not smart.
You aren't George Carlin.
You're David Spade. Minus his money and fame.
And we all know that David Spade wouldn't even wanna be David Spade for free.
Yes, I do realize that that was a snide remark.
Being snide about snideness IS corny. Try not to do it.
Sometimes you can't help it, that's true. But for the most part, just let your earnestness and sincerity shine.
Leave "Daria" at home.
The takeaway: Be nice and say nice things about things in 2013.
Niceness.
Like, let's give the snideness a rest. Ease up on the "clever sarcasm" and "biting wit." ESPECIALLY if you're 30+.
I know, it was fun as hell when we learned how to use it in our 20s by watching and reading our favorite movies and shows and books in our teens. But lets give it a break now.
Plus, we now have a generation of unfunny youth coming up who think mean humor (that becomes more of an oxymoron as you age, at least it has for me) is witty. Or maybe they think its the only humor.
If you're not getting paid to be snarky, you just sound unnecessarily mean, smugly self-satisfied and annoying much of the time. You're not smart.
You aren't George Carlin.
You're David Spade. Minus his money and fame.
And we all know that David Spade wouldn't even wanna be David Spade for free.
Yes, I do realize that that was a snide remark.
Being snide about snideness IS corny. Try not to do it.
Sometimes you can't help it, that's true. But for the most part, just let your earnestness and sincerity shine.
Leave "Daria" at home.
The takeaway: Be nice and say nice things about things in 2013.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Brotha In Sri Lanka Day 5 (New Year's Eve)
We bought tickets to one of the hotel's NYE events, and this dinner is God-awful. About 16 people in here, you gotta pay for the Coke SEPARATELY from the rum, and there's an Indian house band singing the songs that the kids in "Dirty Dancing" were rebelling against. Shout out to sticking it through bc you paid in advance.
I take the best photos of me.
The waiter took a picture of us and I look like Charles fucking Dutton in it.
This dude up there singin Conway Twitty or something man. I've rocked livelier crowds at the 92nd St. Y. Like really though. 90 Jewish kids and their parents getting buck 'cause I mentioned the Golemn in my lyrics and shit.
The lead singer up here lookin' like a brown Dusty Rhodes in his heyday. And they up there counting down like they want this to be a wrap already. "45 minutes to go til 2013!" "25 minutes to go...in this set!" "5 minutes to go, thank Buddha!"
I-ight, it's about to be real quiet for this "party," b. Dude up here sounding like Tom Jones' understudy at a Mumbai casino.
We were like, "Oh it's about to jump" and then it ain't jump.
Wow, more old people just rolled in. This dude up there singing Buster Poindexter. Wait staff looking at me like, "THIS guy done fucked up, hahahaha."
They put the smoke and colored lights on the dance floor and its like 5 old people and 4 young people out there.
Oh my God. A family just rolled in. As in a dad in Friday jeans and a dad-type party hat, a mom, a KID (yes, a KID) and a grandma.
Ok, it's almost 12; I'ma record the countdown, here we go:
This nigga up there singing church songs now. No, for real. "Glory Hallelujah," "When The Saints..." and all that. I decided to go crazy dancing like I had the Holy Ghost.
Holy ish! We won the raffle! That's what happens when you stay past when everyone else has left! And when you get 4 drinks and a bottle of wine when everyone else is barely drinking. Cheese, chocolate, gingerbread in a basket. Niiiice.
Nice. They just offered two glasses of champagne on the house. For me being an awesome dancer. Probably.
The band is basically just playing for me, because out of the 8 folks here, only I am clapping when they finish a song. That's that performer sympathy. I know how it is. I would've been swinging my cock on stage by now. Because, what else would there be to do at that point?
Nice, came back from bathroom and wife said the band shouted me out! No doubt for being the guy having way too much fun at an event he shouldn't be having any at.
"You doing the drunk clap. You not even clapping because its good." - her
They have now allowed us to go to the other (better) party, for free. It's livelier. It's a masquerade party they wanted 160 usd for. We got in for 0 usd! After midnight of course haha. She stole a mask.
Shooooot, they done gave away raffle airline tickets to Oman, London, Singapore, Milan and anywhere in the world.
I can't lie, we made our own fun.
Every time they call a raffle number, this douche-y guy acts like he won, like that's original or funny. He's done it like 8 times already and it stopped being funny after the zeroth time.
These Indians and Sri Lankans are getting it IN. Did I mention how SCANDALOUS the women dress? Yeeeaaahhhh. They do that.
Ok, party done. Getting up for plane in 4 hours. Doesn't that always suck? Anywaaaay...
Day 6 was being ready for the plane and being grouchy while doing it - no blog necessary. Peace! It was grand!
I take the best photos of me.
The waiter took a picture of us and I look like Charles fucking Dutton in it.
This dude up there singin Conway Twitty or something man. I've rocked livelier crowds at the 92nd St. Y. Like really though. 90 Jewish kids and their parents getting buck 'cause I mentioned the Golemn in my lyrics and shit.
The lead singer up here lookin' like a brown Dusty Rhodes in his heyday. And they up there counting down like they want this to be a wrap already. "45 minutes to go til 2013!" "25 minutes to go...in this set!" "5 minutes to go, thank Buddha!"
We were like, "Oh it's about to jump" and then it ain't jump.
Wow, more old people just rolled in. This dude up there singing Buster Poindexter. Wait staff looking at me like, "THIS guy done fucked up, hahahaha."
They put the smoke and colored lights on the dance floor and its like 5 old people and 4 young people out there.
Oh my God. A family just rolled in. As in a dad in Friday jeans and a dad-type party hat, a mom, a KID (yes, a KID) and a grandma.
Ok, it's almost 12; I'ma record the countdown, here we go:
This nigga up there singing church songs now. No, for real. "Glory Hallelujah," "When The Saints..." and all that. I decided to go crazy dancing like I had the Holy Ghost.
The band is basically just playing for me, because out of the 8 folks here, only I am clapping when they finish a song. That's that performer sympathy. I know how it is. I would've been swinging my cock on stage by now. Because, what else would there be to do at that point?
Nice, came back from bathroom and wife said the band shouted me out! No doubt for being the guy having way too much fun at an event he shouldn't be having any at.
"You doing the drunk clap. You not even clapping because its good." - her
They have now allowed us to go to the other (better) party, for free. It's livelier. It's a masquerade party they wanted 160 usd for. We got in for 0 usd! After midnight of course haha. She stole a mask.
I can't lie, we made our own fun.
Every time they call a raffle number, this douche-y guy acts like he won, like that's original or funny. He's done it like 8 times already and it stopped being funny after the zeroth time.
These Indians and Sri Lankans are getting it IN. Did I mention how SCANDALOUS the women dress? Yeeeaaahhhh. They do that.
Ok, party done. Getting up for plane in 4 hours. Doesn't that always suck? Anywaaaay...
Day 6 was being ready for the plane and being grouchy while doing it - no blog necessary. Peace! It was grand!
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