hoho be jooba

I hear lyrics wrong sometimes. I always thought that, at one point in "The Jeffersons" (a rad show from when I was a kid) theme song, the singer says: Hoho be joba. Which makes no sense, but it didn't stop me from DEMANDING to my friends that this is what she was singing.

Turns out, it was a very intense "movin on up". Not "hoho be joba".

I feel wronged by my childhood, somehow.

At any rate, I am movin on up. Tomorrow. Shit. I haven't packed all of my clothes. SHIT.

I'm moving to Northern California afterall. To the Bay Area. To a house with 2 wild/crazy/awesome ladies who I adore.

I start a new contract job on Thursday. It's going to be a bit different from what I'm used to, but I'm into learning stuff along the way while I pretend to be an expert in what I'm doing.

What a week. I hope my dog reacts well to being in a new place with new people. I mean- he's been there before. He knows the people. He loves the people. He digs hanging out with the other dog in the house.

I hope I react well to being in such a lively environment. What am I saying- I live in a very lively household. Never a dull moment. Not that big of a deal.

Hoho be joba.

I'm totally not freaking out

I was supposed to move to northern California on February 28th. My stuff is all stored nicely in the garage of the home I've shared with great friends for a year in southern California. My bags were packed and I was ready to go.

I'm a consultant and my contract was up on the Friday the 26th of last month. Done and done and ready for something new. But. On Thursday the 25th, I was asked to stay. More like I was told I couldn't leave. And I told my supervisor I'd only stay for a bunch more money. And then she said they'd pay me what I asked for. So I'm still here.

Homeless, kind of. I moved to the guest room in our house and I'm living out of suitcases and it's a great test of my ability to deal with change. All this nonsense. I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck outside in a Kansas corn field during tornado season.

It's funny, the choices I make for myself. Like, I guess I really did want to stay in SoCal if I made the choice. But really, that wasn't what I had counted on for sure. I was supposed to be lazing about the Bay Area right now. Not waiting on yet another (one last) email to come through for the day so I can finish up and drive 2 hours back home.

Kansas. Tornadoes. Okay. It's not that bad. I'm okay. This is great. I'm happy to be able to spend a little more time with my friends and family here before I eventually trek north for good. I’m happy to have a job that I’m good at and that pays well. I’m happy that I have never been swept away by a tornado.

G.D.

I met a 9 year old girl at my friend's birthday party last night. She told me her name was Trinity and I said - wow! You know trinity is 3 and what's 3 times 3? Nine, she told me. That's your age- how cool. This is your year to shine, Trinity. Her face lit up and she clapped her hands together, forgetting the helium-filled balloon she was holding.

Her face dropped. It hit the ceiling and the ribbon was out of reach. I said Trinity, if you were a giraffe, you could just reach up and grab that down. Since you're not, how are you going to get it?

She asked me if I'm a teacher and I said no- but I'm a tutor. While she looked around for resources to make her taller, she told me her friend Haley has a tutor.

And it hit me. I'm good with kids. I love to see them learn and discover and explore and find excitement in the whole process. And that's why I'm incredibly upset. Not that I have this passion, but that my student- the one I've been tutoring for over 2 years now is even more at risk than when I started with her in kindergarden.

I volunteer for an organization that provides tutors for homeless kids. My student's dad is a drug addict. Her mom was living in a womens recovery shelter. Fresh out of jail for drug charges, she wanted to get her life on a better track. Throughout the past couple of years, I've seen my student's mom go from having nothing to working full time, taking college courses, and moving into her own apartment.

Along the way, my student has relaxed. She concentrates on her work and became the top student in her first grade class. Seeing these two thrive was incredible. But then. Then my student's mom stopped returning my calls for tutoring appointments and the ones she did show up for were cut short because she was late. And she lost oh, about 30 pounds in just over a month.

While I recognized these signs as looming disaster, I couldn't say a word about it. Part of my agreement with the tutoring organization is that I don't ask questions about the family's situation. We don't speak about it unless they bring it up. Now it's been 5 weeks since I've seen them. This girl means so much to me. Her future is in such a fragile place. I want to be there for her. To tell her a million times that she can do whatever she puts her mind to. That there is a world out there that is ready to reward her for her hard work and talents.

But I'm bound to shut the fuck up and see if her mom will take the time to meet with me.

I'm a rule-follower, but screw that. I can't sit back and watch failure when I know I can help.