Saturday, Saint Patrick's Day, Tom and I decided to join his friends at a pub to celebrate. There were beers and darts and complimentary cornbeef, cabbage, potatoes and rye bread. YUM! Tom and Becker were not triumphant at darts, unfortunately. In fact, the winner was unclear because James managed to shoot one of his darts INTO a dart that was already wedged into the bullseye. Dom maintained it doesn't count if the dart doesn't touch the board. Others maintained that they were tired of playing darts, and the shot was so cool they should let it count.
After that, Tom and I stopped at a bodega where I bought chips and cookies. Then we met back up with Tom's friends at another bar where we drank two buckets of beer (each bucket containing six little bottles of beer). Then we moved on to the Carriage House for many fun hours of Karaoke. I stuck to being a backup singer and dancer, partly because I was tired and out-of-voice and partly because Tom's friends were all burning up the mic like rock stars! I was intimidated.
Tom and I schlepped home to bed, then just managed to drag ourselves out of bed in time to get ready for Irish breakfast (green pancakes, green eggs, potatoes, bacon and soda bread) at his friends' place. En masse I would describe Tom's friends as fun, generous people who can sing, dance, throw a great party and cook some delicious food.
We went to the Brooklyn St.Patrick's Day parade. It was cute: mostly a few troupes of bagpipers, glockenspeilers (I have no idea how to spell that), Irish step dancing kids, boyscouts and firefighters. What they were missing? Candy! At parades in Iowa, they throw candy. Okay, some killjoys are trying to quash the tradition because they're afraid kids will run into the street and get hit while trying to retrieve the candy, but has that ever happened? And if so, where were the kid's parents? Where was the kid's common sense? You get the candy on the sidewalk. Going for the candy that lands in the street isn't just dangerous. It's greedy! Anywho, NYC parades should add the flinging of Tootsie Rolls. At least there were horses. Midwestern parades always include horses. After the parade, we went back to the apartment for and chocolate Guiness cake. You wouldn't think chocolate and beer would be a yummy combination, but it surely is.
We went back to the apartment for a little indoor picnic while watching Simpsons and Arrested Development. Late that night, I got home only to find I had been rejected by my second choice college (Hunter). Wah!
Monday was uneventful. So was Tuesday, although that night I met up with Tom at La Paloma for my favorite burritos. Then we went to Valhalla for drinks and met up with Tori for the Jolly Ship Whizbang, a puppet pirate rock opera. It was awesome. A friend of Tom's is in the band.
Wednesday, my assistant principle told me a lesson of mine she had observed was unsatisfactory. That rating was unfounded, as her largest point of contention was with an element of the lesson she'd approved durinig the preobservation meeting. I'm filing a grievance. I'm tired of playing nice. At the time, though, it was a real blow. First I'd gotten rejected by my two best chances at leaving my crappy job to pursue my dream. Then my boss went after me. Well, when you're at the bottom, there's nowhere to go but up, right?
Which brings us to today. It was a horrid day of teaching. When my A.P. was giving an observation next door, my class (804) got so loud she had to come over to ask them to be quiet. It was humiliating, but I found out the teacher who had them before me and the teacher who got them after me all had to call the deans to help because the class was being so nuts. But I got home and...skinny envelope.
There was a skinny envelope from Old Dominion. I opened it and discovered...they were pleased to offer me admission, a $10,000 teaching assistantship and a partial tuition grant. Wow! Apparently, when it comes to grad school, the skinny envelope is not the kiss of death. So my poetry doesn't suck after all! (I think my stuff is a little to rural to suit NYC colleges' tastes.) A school does want me! But could I really leave my life, my friends, New York, to go to college in Virginia? I know I want to go for my MFA, but I'm tired of starting my life over. I guess I just have to hope Brooklyn college accepts me, makes me a better offer and I like the place.