between one bleeding heart and another

Sunday, November, 28^th, 2010 – Day 108

dear readers, 

The truth is I walk around here giving advice 24/7 as if I have all the answers. From professional relationships to personal one, I always have something to offer – a little tidbit here or there to add. And no matter how genuine my words may be, I can’t help but think: ‘what the hell do I even know?’

The truth is – I thought maybe – just maybe if I left the States for a foreign place, I could find love.  I know you’re thinking, ‘you dumb fool. No gay man in his right mind goes to the Rep. of Georgia hoping he’ll find love’. And yet, here I am. I did come there thinking I would.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

I didn’t even want love. I just wanted one romantic date. Just one night where conversation and laughter would flow so naturally you’d think we new each other for years – where I could know what it was like to feel wonderfully desired. And yes! – where I could finally have the most amazing night of my life.To much to ask for? Probably...

In fact, the truth is – I haven’t even been down that road in a very long time! That’s right, an entire year. Well, this is partly my fault of course. I’m not an open house after all. I do have rather high standards, which are probably the leading factor in my current dry spell.

But what does one do in my shoes? If driving in the fast lane means getting more dates, does one worry about speeding past Mr. Right? Or do we instead simply wait for him to catch up?

The truth is – I’m tired of waiting for the right man to show up. I’m tired of giving relationship advice to people who already have a somebody in the picture. From one bleeding heart to another, find your own solutions. This match is lit, and the race is on.

watch out boys, d’s on a mission.

xo xo m

sometimes i hate my job

Wednesday, November 24^th, 2010 – Day 104

dear readers,

As reality would have it, sometimes I hate being a teacher. I hate when I have to give an English test to an 8^th grader who can barely read Georgian much less read a paragraph on endangered animals, and then have to answer questions.

I hate that I’ve been working my ass off to teach kids the ABC’s when they should have learned them three or four years ago.

I hate that I can’t ring the necks of parents and teachers who let kids fall through the ‘cracks’.

But most of all, I hate anything and everything involved with grades. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not some teacher with enlightened expectations, thinking students at the age of 15 or 17 will do work simply for the sake of learning. What I hate is the evaluative process of characterizing a student’s intelligence, ability to learn, and work ethic through the usage of some arbitrary number or letter.

            It’s easier – yes- to give students a B or an 8, but what does it even mean? Have a B, of course, means the student is a good one, maybe not great, but pretty good. And still, I ask, what does it even mean? What I’d love to see is a little footnote explaining the student’s strengths and weaknesses, the can & can’t do’s, which rewarded him or her a B.

            Today, I had to fail two students for cheating on their tests, and I hate having to do that. In fact, I would say it’s one of the worst parts of my job. I don’t say this because I’m a softy with a bleeding heart, albeit I am. I say this because I want to be able to have wonderful, interactive lessons, where all we do is learn. Most of you, of course, are probably asking how a teacher is supposed to test his/her student’s knowledge without tests/quizzes. And this would be a valid question. I really don’t have any suggestions to offer – no new, inventive methodologies – just a horrible feeling that arises every time I give grades.

needing a pick me up a.k.a. a slice of strawberry cheesecake,

xo xo m

90 day self-check: notes to self, a survivor’s guide

November 10^th, 2010 – Day 90

dear readers, 

It has been officially three months since having first moved into host family’s home. Suffice to say, I have experienced more things – gone through more things than I could have possibly imagined. Therefore, I have come up with an official list of cautionary tips to remember in order to survive the remainder of my time spent here in this strange and wonderful place I’ve called home.

1. having a tiny nervy-b because your luggage has yet to arrive is never a proper thing to do in public. Having one because you have to wear the same pair of boxer-briefs for THREE days now, including two of them being spent on plane travel, is entirely appropriate at any given point.

sub point a) never trust an airline when they say your bags will arrive on time when they aren’t flying them over themselves.

sub point b) hate. georgian. airways.

2. There is no substitute for American beauty products which include but are not limited to dove soap, tresimme shampoo & conditioner, axe hair cream, and facial cream. Unreadable hotel products that come in tiny foil wrappings is by no means a suitable replacement.

3. obsessing over new hot roommate on the first night is not only a bad thing (probably awkward) for him, but also will keep you up all night wondering if he’s gay.

sub point a) you have no gaydar!!!

sub point b) even if he was gay, he probably wont want you anymore…

4. it’s never really a good idea to ask what your eating. You might as well down it or risk starvation.

sub point a) apparently, Georgian breakfast does not consist of eggs, turkey bacon, and hash browns

sub point b) but it does include plenty of grainy instant coffee. My Favzies!

5. always make sure you have hand sanitizer or wipes on hand (preferably both). Showers are never a guarantee much less being able to wash your hands before a meal.

6. between the unreliable electricity and the random weather, wearing filthy clothes is a very real possibility. If the sun is out, the washing machine better be running!

7. never emotionally drink – see post “three hail mary’s and a liter of wine”

8. fake it till you make it

9. never drink the free wine given at suphras. More than likely this poison will do one or more of these things:

sub point a) get you drunk, which will enable you to do something so foolish you won’t be able to recover your reputation from it

sub point b) give you the runs for the next two days, which won’t begin until the middle  of your 11^th grader English grammar lesson forcing you to run out of class, down four floors of stairs, and into the nasty squatty-potty that is the teacher’s restroom

sub point c) kill you! – need I say more. (naturally, two out of three could very well happen to you)

10. there’s no point in hopping over cow-pies in order to keep you chucks clean. The streets are so caked with poo that the only thing one really avoids are the steaming one.

11. flirting with a Georgian is only good for one thing – free drinks. Anything else is not only ridiculous but also borderline self-deprecating. More than likely, anything they could offer would be such a huge disappointment that the only person you could ever blame would have to be yourself. So give it up! Dragging someone out of the closet is never classy.

12. never bother getting dressed up for special occasions. You’ll just end up drawing more attention to yourself as you refuse to sit on a dirty wooden plank, thereby forcing self to stand for the next 3 or 4 hours as everyone continues to toast in memory of another dead person (no disrespect intended, naturally. I just hate being dirty).

13. it only takes three months before life catches up to you – before all the problems you ran away from return. It only takes 90 days before the dust settles and reality kicks in. And when he kicks, you’ll feel the sharp knife slice into your lungs. You can’t catch your breathe since the wind is billowing too fast. Recognition will come quickly; it can’t be kept at bay for long. It’s heartache, a reminder as to way you’ve come this far.

14. be fashionable not femme

15. when all is said & done or otherwise not said & done, take a moment to appreciate where you’re staying. Not only do you not know if the next place will be a challenge, but more than likely you wont be back at this place, at this moment again. A view is a view even if it is of half constructed ruins and over weeded plots of land, make-shifted into soccer (football?) fields. Relish these moments; it’s why you left behind your old life. Make this count. 

xo xo m