The problem with this, and with me, really, is that I have terrible “grass is greener” syndrome. Even as I’ve been happy with my life, I’m always seeing the awesome, cool, interesting, and exotic things OTHER people are doing. I see people eating at amazing restaurants, going on hot air balloon rides, creating a ball-pit in their living room, traveling the world, staring their own businesses, decorating adorable apartments, getting married, going to grad school…I see all these things, and I think, THOSE are the types of things I want – the interesting lives with the new, small adventures, with the adorable outfits and the Etsy adorned apartment and the fun, entrepreneurial new job….

Lately, I’ve come to realize, however, that what we see on blogs is SUCH a small slice of people’s lives, and not just any slice, the slice people *choose* to share with the world. We sometimes see the struggles, but always protected and monitored, always as a small chunk of the image. We don’t see the daily grind, the annoying traffic, the family frustrations, the utter heartbreaks, and the boring days. The more bloggers I’ve met in real the life, the more evident this has become to me. As much as we know and share with each other, we don’t know that much *just* from reading blogs. People are doing these fun, cool, adventurous things, but they are also living real life. Just like I am.

With this realization, it has been my mission to think about how my life could (or would) be perceived (if I actually blogged about it on a regular basis, that is), and what people may see in me, when you take away all that daily grind crap.

My blog would show that I love my job, stress and crazy kids and all. It would show that I have a great adorable teacher boyfriend who loves me. It would show that I do go on some crazy adventures, like hitting up Disneyland with these lovely folks and having a heart attack on Space Mountain, like going with my best friend to see Maroon 5 at the Greek theater, and like going with my hilarious co-workers to Drag Bingo in West Hollywood. It would show that I do have some cute Etsy jewelry. I do go to fun restaurants that have been featured on “The Best Thing I ever Ate,” and even though it isn’t super decorated, I do have a pretty sweet apartment.

Someone reading would look at my life and not see the disorganized room, the hour of me in sitting (and screaming) in traffic, the pain of getting up at 5AM, and the lack of decoration in my apartment, but they would see someone who has a pretty good life. And it is definitely the life I want.

Rash decision one: Give up theater, after a life time of dance classes, voice lessons, summer theater camps, and a performing arts high school, after a terrible college program audition (complete with crying phone meltdown to my mother) and a comment from my high school drama/playwriting teacher that my play read more like a sitcom. Instead of pursuing an BFA in Musical Theater (which I could not have done solely due to lack of necessary talent…) or even a BA in Theater Studies, I decided to major in Television and Film with the new dream of writing for Television. It was quasi based on my lifetime love of television, but looking back, it was also quasi reactionary. Even so, that decision shaped the next four years of my life.

Rash decision number two: Apply to be a counselor at a Jewish summer camp. A completely random decision a the time, having never attended camp myself. It came up after a third or forth viewing of the MTV Documentary “Fat Camp” with my friend Nick my second semester of college, during which I talked about how I almost went to sleep away Jew camp as a kid, but chickened out at the last minute. I thought about how I had nothing to do that summer and about how much fun I’d had the summer before working at a Performing Arts Day camp, and how I’d always secretly wished I had just sucked it up and GONE to camp that summer, so I, of course, randomly started researching and applying to Jewish summer camps in the Midwest. I heard back from several, got hired at one, and proceeded to have the best two summers of my life 20 minutes outside of Cleveland, Ohio, which in turn led to both my amazing Australian adventure with my two camp BFF’s and my third rash decision.

Rash decision number three: Apply to Teach for America. After my second semester junior year experience of interning and hating life in LA, I felt lost. My rash decision to major in TV was looking like an epic failure after discovering I didn’t, in fact, enjoy working in television, and I had no idea what to do with my life. The only vague thought I had was to maybe apply to Emerson to study Theater Education and circle back to my original love of theater and my new found (Thanks to Camp!) love of working with kids. I doubted I would get in, however, with my limited camp experience teaching drama one summer and my one vaguely related to education class, the Politics of Education. Then I saw one of those pesky recruitment signs touting the (horrifying) statistics about low-income schools, which reminded me of all the things I learned were broken in the education system in my one education class. I went to an info meeting, told my mom I was thinking about applying, and filled out the application in a day, figuring I would let fate decide, since I didn’t really have faith in my decision making skills at the time. Then a funny thing happened. Fate decided I should be a teacher.

And that’s where I am now. One year into my two-year commitment to TFA, which is when everyone in TFA starts asking “What are you going to do next Spring when you finish?” They, of course, are asking so they can steer you into staying in education, thus fulfilling step two of their two-part plan to close the education gap. And for the first time in a while, I’m not feeling like making a rash decision that will throw me in a completely different direction.

Maybe it’s just because my life is going pretty well right now that I don’t feel like changing it and, eventually one small blip will send me looking at law school applications, but for now, for the first time ever, I’ve drafted out a plan for the next five years of my life, based on where I am now right now. It’s weird to write out where I want to be five years into the future, because for the last five years, my plans have been changing and evolving on a regular basis. There has never been a constant, because I have always felt unsure, like I wasn’t good enough to act or I wasn’t cut-throat enough for Hollywood. It’s kind of scary to feel stable and to plan, because I have a history of planning and then pursuing those plans only to chuck them out the window and do something totally different. I even wrote my college admissions essay about how I did this, and after that, I changed my mind again!

But maybe those rash decisions were all just leading me here, to the place I was supposed to end up. I just had to make those giant, seemingly random leaps because I wasn’t going to get to this place fast enough unless I made mistakes, took on random jobs and left a few things up to fate.

Maybe planning just feels scary, because, as I’ve seen, life doesn’t go according to plan, and I’m just afraid to fail. In the past, as my plans have changed or been only a few months ahead of me, I’ve never technically failed. I’ve gotten everything I’ve really tried to do. I don’t know how I would handle it if I made this plan, went for it with all I had, and then didn’t succeed.

Then again, life is scary and unpredictable, as I’ve seen, and I might fail, but I think I need to focus on the fact that right now, in this moment, I’m so incredibly grateful that I made those decisions, and that life, unpredictably, brought me here to this place where I can make plans for my future, because when I think of what my life would have been had I not made those random, rash decisions, I wouldn’t have all the life experience that is now factoring into my plans. I guess I just have to trust that even if life doesn’t go according to the plan, it can still lead you to a good place.

When I say I’m “going home” for the week, what I really mean is “I’m going to where my parents live.” Right now, that is Delaware. I lived here for a couple months after graduating last year, but I don’t have any friends here. I have no old hang-outs to visit, and I basically hang out with my parents and work-out at the JCC when I come here. It’s not home, except for the idea that home is where my parents live.

When I told people I was coming to Delaware this week, I said I was going home for the week, but being here and in Pittsburgh at a family reunion for the weekend, I realized, I’m not at home. I love my parents more than anything, and emotionally, yes, whenever I am in their house, I will feel some sense of home, but I had a surprising realization last night.

When I fly back to LA on Wednesday, I’ll be going home. I’ll be going to the place I feel like I truly belong at this point in my life. I’ll be going to the little home I’ve created with my best friends in our apartment. I’ll be going to the place where I can grab dinner and a movie with my sister at a moments notice. I’ll be going to the place I can drive around without thinking. I’ll be going to the place I feel comfortable and happy and settled. I’ll be going to the place I can’t imagine moving from any time soon, which is exactly the opposite of how I thought I would ever feel about Los Angeles.

The first time I lived there, I thought it was pretentious and loud and too spread out and too sunny. (Odd, I know.) Now, I’ve embraced and conquered (at times) the traffic. I’ve made amazing friends who always keep me busy when I want to be. I’ve found a job I’m (almost) really good at and that I feel fulfilled in. I’ve learned to love the constant sunny and 70 degree weather. I’ve found an apartment that feels cozy and comfortable and (almost) decorated, and I’ve found (for now) a guy who indulges me in seeing Toy Story 3, takes me to Dodgers games, enjoys hanging out and doing nothing but watching movies and eating pizza, and who doesn’t make me feel nervous or self-conscious or crazy about anything I do, say, or feel.

I’ve had a great weekend with my family, revisiting my favorite childhood theme park, Kennywood, hanging out at a waterpark with my cousins, and dancing to a super local Pittsburgh band at a hotel bar with all my aunts and uncles, but I am really excited to go home.

January

I rang in 2009  in Australia, a trip which I recapped past the point of necessity. After I got home and moved in with my parents (since I technically graduated from school in Jan. 2009), I celebrated the Steelers going to the Superbowl (if only they were on the same path now…) and (shamefully) found myself sitting inside a thick Twilight haze.

February

I started the month by taking my first of many trips to Boston for my best friends birthday. I decided to lose 15 pounds by graduation. (I got to 10, so win?) I hit a wall with temporary unemployment, then quickly was given a big project when my 10 pounds of Teach for America reading material arrived in the mail. I freaked out about being an adult and vlogged for 20SB vlog day (which I’ve since remembered I deleted out of embarrassment.)

March

Things perked up in March when I got my Nikon D90 (AND STARTED WRITING ONLY IN CAPS! Clearly, it was necessary) and immediately replaced television with photography. Then, instead of recapping my trip to LA or my weekend in Annapolis, I mentally decorated my future apartment and made Bakerella’s Cake Pops.

April

I was a little lazy with posting until I had a dilemma in car buying, wavered, then finally bought my beautiful blue 2005 Prius (which I’m still obsessed with. 45 mpg? $20 to fill up? iPod hook-up? Yes, yes, and yes.). I then celebrated Passover with some help from my non-Jewish father, failed at blogging (a common trend, no?), fought about gay marriage with a ridiculous pageant queen, and started a new photoblog (which I also failed at). Then, I finally figured out and listed the things that were causing me to fail at blogging.

May

I headed up to Boston for Senior Breakfast at my college and finally decided I was ready to move on from Boston and from college. (I’m starting to doubt that in retrospect…) Then I headed back to Boston a week later for Senior Week. And, you know, for my official graduation from college. Still bizarre to think about.

June

I was officially hired by a school in LA and decided things were going a little too well. I said good-bye to my parents (and learned later I made my mom cry). I took a little trip to Vegas you may have heard something about. I got to San Diego and hung out with an “old” college friend. I finally arrived in LA and started Teach for America Induction and met my future co-workers on a two day trip back to San Diego.

July

I wrote my first and last edition of quotes from the always stressful, sometimes funny Institute and wrote my first of MANY posts about balancing the stress of teaching with just about everything else in my life, in this case, seeing Harry Potter at midnight, a very important priority in my life.

August

I finished Institute and wished I had time to actually document what was going on in my life (which should be the official theme of this year.) Off-line, I started work and started school. I became a teacher.

September

More of the same. I wanted to blog. I wanted to be a normal person (by making a list of things I was going to do, none of which I did until about 3 months later). I wanted to not be tired all. the. time. Things weren’t bad, but they weren’t (that magic word) balanced.

October

After a major downer of a week, things weren’t bad for the moment.I reflected on my 22nd year as I moved into my 23rd, and I  played a little high low game in order to reflect on the good things that were happening in my life.

November

I took a trip to Berkeley to see American Idiot and came back with a severe case of grass is always greener syndrome. I had a week-off for Thanksgiving and was thankful for my awesome co-workers and my Gilmore Girl-like dinner situation. I then promptly discovered I have no idea what I want out of life. At all. Still awesome.

December

I started attempting to reminisce (and again promptly failed at the attempt), thinking back on my trip to Australia. I wondered if I would ever simply be happy and reflected on how my life right now is my biggest challenge.

So that was my year: a whole lot of boredom and family bonding into a whole lot of working and complaining about balance. I still don’t know what I want. I still don’t know how to feel about where I am right now. I still don’t know where I’ll be in a year and a half when this whole TFA thing ends. In this moment, I’m thinking about scrapping the whole regular job thing and giving this photography thing a go, but that’s just today. I can’t trust I’ll feel this way in a week, but that isn’t today’s discussion. Today is looking back. Tomorrow, I’ll be looking forward. Let’s go, 2010.

I have no idea what I want my life to be like: what kind of person I want to be, what kind of person I want to be with, what kinds of things I want to do, what kinds of places I want to live. No fucking clue.

Awesome.

As I’ve become tired and had a few more bad days teaching – not that they’re all bad or that I’m not happy- I’ve wondered, and I really hate admitting this, but I have wondered if I made the right decision. Is this really what I want to be doing for the next two years? Would I be happier if I’d taken my other proposed path – staying in Boston, studying theater education, possibly working at my old theater job?

This weekend didn’t help. I spent most of the weekend driving back and forth between LA and Berkeley, as my friends and I took a quick road trip to see American Idiot at the Berkeley Repertory Theater. During the show, I almost started crying and not just because the show was phenomenal, which it most definitely was. (If you will be in the New York area next year, get tickets to see it on Broadway! I’m predicting it will be a hit. I mean, Green Day music PLUS the creative team behind Spring Awakening? What’s not to like?)

I got emotional and nostalgic because it reminded me how much I love theater and how much I miss being connected to it. Theater was my life growing up, and I definitely took my ridiculously amazing work-study job at the professional theater connected to my university for granted. I mean, I got free tickets to Broadway-caliber professional shows and got to spend my weekends hanging out with the cast of those shows…as my job. I had conversations about art and life, as well as boggle tournaments, with professional actors from all over the country while doing my homework, and I got paid for it. I mean, I definitely enjoy that my job now is much more challenging and, ultimately, more important that that job was, but I miss being around those kinds of people, I miss being around stage doors, and costume designers, and opening night parties, and overtures. I miss what I experienced this weekend, and I hate living in a town where that experienced is consistently undervalued.

And all that makes me think I’m not yet where I should be. I know I won’t be teaching forever, or at least, not teaching English forever, because theater is too important to me. Eventually, I hope to combine my love of theater with my teaching experience now by getting my Masters like I planned if I hadn’t gotten into TFA, but in this moment, riding the high of live musical theater and my road trip fever, two years feels like forever to be away from that world….and I keep wondering if I made the right call.

Last year, I was in the midst of high school-like drama. This year, I’m teaching high schoolers. Last year, I was drowning in homework. This year, I’m the one giving it. Last year, I didn’t feel any older. This year, I feel about 100.

In the past year, I traveled half-way around the world. I moved back home and moved 3,000 miles from it. I graduated college. I became a real-live adult. I got my first paycheck over $1000. I partied in Vegas and fell asleep at 8:00PM from exhaustion. I went from being endlessly bored, waking up at 10:00AM regularly, to endlessly stressed, pulling myself out of bed at 5:30AM. I made some new friends, visited some old ones, and moved back in with some cool ones. I’ve cried more times than I can count, over friends, over stress, and over leaving behind an amazing city and four years of (mostly) fun.

But now, I’m entering my 23rd year. I welcomed it with a group of 32 teenagers belting out “Happy Birthday” as they ran into my classroom. I welcomed it with ridiculously large homemade cupcakes with contraband candles burning on top. (I told them not to bring fire to school!) I welcomed it with hand-made cards thanking me for “helping us with problems and being a wonderful teacher.” I welcomed it over beers with new, amazing friends who truly understand how old I feel.

While my 23rd year most likely won’t seem as life-changing on paper as  my 22nd, I’m thinking that by my 24th year, I’m going to be an entirely different person, and for today at least, I feel kind of OK with that.

- Remember that time I thought I was going to be a normal person after Institute? Hah. Yeah, that was adorable. I’m lengthening that statement to “two years or until I leave the education profession.”

- You know you live in LA when your friends text you that they are going to a bar and then an hour later, Paige from “Degrassi Goes Hollywood” walks into that bar.

- The other day, my “check engine” light came on. I’ve yet to do anything about it except yell, “I don’t have time to deal with your problems, Prius!”

- My friends were all complaining about how annoying their jobs were. All I could add was that my Executive Director (he’s above the principal at my school) pulled me aside to tell me how good my classroom looks. Win.

- It’s really hard to explain to my friends why at 2AM, I’m pretty anxious (read: angry about not getting) to go home and sleep, but also why I don’t mind getting up at 7AM on a Saturday to go to work.

I think that’s it. There are about 8,000 posts I’ve written in my mind about how scared I am about Tuesday (aka THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL) about how EFFING AMAZING my school and staff is, about how I actually love my job (so far…fingers crossed), and how for the first time, I never walk into work thinking, “I really don’t want to be here today,” but it’s hard to prioritize blogging over things like, oh, actually planning out my class, or sleeping, or seeing my friends every once in a while.

It’s frustrating though, because I so wish I was documenting all the things that are happening. I hope I can find the time. I want to remember this.

However, after getting the afternoon off yesterday (Happy TFA Day!), which then allowed me to get four hours of sleep from 7 until 11:30 before I drove across town to a midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince with Stephanie before returning home at 4 to get two more hours of sleep, and after finishing three lesson plans tonight without breaking a sweat (and before 10:00PM!), I’m feeling like the two weeks and 2 days of Institute I have left are totally manageable. Especially since tomorrow at this time, I’ll be rocking out to Kris Allen, Adam Lambert, and Allison Iraheta at the American Idol concert…..andagainonSaturday.

Yes, I am going to the American Idol concert twice. And yes, I am aware that the do-gooders here at TFA probably judge and don’t understand my pop culture obbsesions. I know in my heart, though, that the fact that I’m going twice is just the consequence of a weird set of circumstances that involved me not thinking I could make the LA show, buying tickets to the San Diego show instead, and then finding out I could go to the LA show….but I digress.

The seeing HP and the seeing Kris Allen are the things that are keeping me sane and allowing me to plow through these last two weeks. I went into this thing telling myself that I would not change. I would not let TFA consume my life. I would not burn out by pushing away the things I love and becoming scary-serious-sanctimonious chick. I do want to give all I can to my new job, but not at the expense of my life. So…yeah, no guilt. And I won’t complain if I’m tired, which surprisingly after last night’s weird split up sleep situation, I’m not. (I still got 7 hours of sleep, which sadly, is more than I’ve been getting on a regular basis) Although, this post is sounding more and more like I am super tired. Or like I’m drugged.

Whatevs. The whole point is I’m alive. I’m going to make it through Institute, and I’m going to allow myself to have some fun along the way. The end. Good night.

“No! Don’t take the dinosaur subtraction! Not the dinosaur subtraction! He’s taking it!” – Justin Meli to his 3rd grader, who happily skipped away with extra subtraction homework.

“What’s the smart student motto?”
“WORK HARD. GET SMART. OOO! OOO!” – Justin Meli’s 3rd Grade class

“What is ‘Team All-Star’ in another language?”
“How did we go from ‘Let’s finish this lesson plan!’ to ‘What is All-Star in Spanish?’” – My co-lab (aka teaching partners) trying to think of a team name (and generally being mini-lesson planning all-stars)

Institute is mostly challenging and kind of stressful….but sometimes, it’s just funny.

Maybe you had to be there. Or maybe I’m just sleep-deprived.