Corps Values

What I need to learn.

To do.

Is develop a poker face (becauseI'mtired,ohsotired,ofpeoplegettingthebetterofme).


What I need to do.

Is act.

Like I don't give a shit (evenwhen,inmyheartofhearts,Icareaboutitmorethananythingintheworld).


What I need to say.

To him.

Is, "That's fine" (whenIreallywanttosaywhywhywhywhywhywhywhydoyoudothistome?).


What I need to spend.

On him.

Is nothing (thoughIwanttopamperandspoilhimandtreathimlikethekingheis,soworthyofmyworship).


What I need to be.

Outside.

Is prude and utterly Victorian (eventhoughmypiousecstacybringsmetomykneesandmakesmecoveteachdropofbloodthatpulsatesbeneathhisimmaculateskin).


What I need to stay.

Each day.

Is demure and shy (soevenhewontknowthatIwanttobiteintohimlikeforbiddenfruitandseducehimuntilhehasforgottenthefaceofgoodness).


What I need to see.

Is me.

Without him (ifthat'sevenpossibleconsideringthefactthat,everytimeiblinkmyeyes,I'minhisarmsagain--againandagainandagainandagain,harderandharderandharderstill).


What I need tonight.

Is him.

Just him (justhim).

I've been wondering if I should start a Teach for America blog.

Considering the fact that I am one of the fourteen unplaced people out of two hundred an fifty corps members in Houston, maybe I should hold off on it.

I could start off with this: This summer, at Institute, I got more sheets of paper that I want to throw away than I have my whole life. I sat up the other night and started throwing out stacks and stacks of papers that I don't and never will find useful. Ever. Thanks TFA.

Being unplaced is strange though. You don't have to work or go to meetings that make you want to gouge your eyes out. But you can't feel comfortable in your own skin; you've prepared yourself for a couple of months for really hard work that never materialized. You can't go home to your family. You can't leave town for anything. You just sit. And wait. You can't even be proactive and look for your own job. You wait for the TFA gods to hand one to you.

Since my shit interview, I haven't left the house. The towels are still in the dryer. The stacks of paper are all over the floor. The dishes are piling up. It's okay. I'll run out of food eventually.

Film Discoveries

There was a commercial on TV for a movie coming out in which the announcer said, "Critics have discovered the best movie this summer."

What the hell is there to "discover?" Movies are hugely budgeted, heavily advertised for, and critics are forced or bribed to see them.

So how can you "discover" something that was shoved down your throat?