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.