8 March 2003
lost in space

Okay! Now I am all organized, all the entries are filed, the links are correct, the images unbroken, and whoopee, I am returning to full entry format. Full entry format, with hopefully some pictures as soon as I can locate the NiMH batteries for my digital camera.

The Weekend Workshop has been going for a while already (tomorrow will be the sixth session), and it's going amazingly well. There's 17 people in the class, and they are wonderful, hard-working and fun. Everything that last semester's group was not. Since the class ended up being huge, Drea is teaching it with me, which worked out for the best (though the financial hit kind of sucked). I can't imagine trying to teach this huge class all by myself. It seems to be perfect with the two of us to go around.

The more I teach like this, the more I realize that this is what I want to do. I want to teach ceramics, I want to get into a program and really grow it, nurture my students and follow them to success - basically be everything to my students that Nick and Bob have never been to me or my fellow majors. It just gives me such a sense of satisfaction to watch them make amazing stuff. I love this part of teaching, and I don't want to dilute it with the endless administrative bullshit that comes with teaching in public schools. I'm sorry, I just can't do that to myself.

Man, I just came off like some sort of mission statement teaching philosophy type thing. Maybe I should save that for when I apply for jobs at CAA.

Gods. I am so glad this week is spring break. I so needed this. Time to think, really think, work a lot and finally, finally get my hair cut. It's so completely long and disgusting and in need of love. I can't wait to get this weight off my head.

So I went to see Tori Amos on Thursday night, and it was pretty good. Radio City Music Hall was an amazing, beautiful venue compared to the shabby Beacon Theatre, where she was played last year. The show itself was uneven, very up and down, and I was so far away (on the second mezzanine) that I had a hard time getting into the whole vibe. I didn't feel like screaming and emoting like all the hysterical teenagers around me, so I was kind of quiet and took it all in. There were some amazing, transcendent moments. Some beautiful beautiful music.

The bad part was the next morning, I found that I had lost my cell phone. John went to work, and instead of heading directly to Penn Station to catch the train, I went to back to Rockefeller Center to see if I could locate someone who would know how to find my phone.

Rockefeller Center is a strange, surreal place to begin with, but trying to find my way around in the throng of morning commuters was even stranger. Radio City was buttoned up on all sides, with not even a sign giving an inkling of when they might open. I was pissed and kind of upset, and so walked down to the Today Show studio, trying to decide whether I should kill time and wait for something at Radio City to happen, or just give up and head home. At this point I had a strange fantasy about joining the gregarious group of tourists and try to get Katie or Matt's attention.

"So where's you from?" Al would ask."

"Philadelphia," I would reply. "I was here last night to see Tori Amos at Radio City and I lost my cell phone. Do you know who I could call to find it?"

Al would make sympathetic noises and perhaps ask one of the camera guys to help me out. Or maybe he would even escort me into the studio, where Katie and Matt would present me with a brand new phone, after I had regaled them with my broke art student sob story.

Instead, I went into one official looking building and asked information, and they actually put me in touch with Radio City security. No luck. No phone.

So that's pretty much the end of it. I now have to go drop at least fifty bucks on a new phone, which I'm not really happy about. Oh well. The good part is my old phone was falling apart anyway - the antenna had fallen off several weeks ago, and the screen was scratched to all hell.

It's bizarre not to have a phone, though. Now that I'm without it I realize how pathetically dependent I am on that little piece of electronic matter. I watch people walk down the street, the little earbuds curled around their ears like an exotic insect. I feel temporarily ousted from the cell phone club, and I am unspeakably jealous.

reading: Elizabeth Wurtzel, More, Now, Again (reread)
listening: Trading Spaces

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