Kindergarten Follow-up

Hey, guess what? The little kids didn't kill me! or even make me go totally crazy! It was a crazy introduction to kindergarten, but as my story will soon tell you, it could have been much worse. Behold the tale, in Good New, Bad News format:

Bad News: I got a call to "guest teach" for a kindergarten class today. I was totally terrified of kindergartners!
Good News: Today was Dr. Seuss Day!!! (Dr. Seuss' birthday)
Bad News: I didn't know and so I didn't dress up like Dr. Seuss Characters like a lot of the cool teachers did.
Good News: I got to make ooblec for the kids (and me) to play with!
Bad News: I only had 15 minutes to make 8 pans of ooblec before a room full of 5-year-olds came barging in.
Good News: Another teacher watched my class coming in while I finished up (and was really friendly and helpful).
Bad News: I still got off to a late start.
Good News: I got to read a fun book to my first group of students (the whole grade travelled between classrooms to different book and activity stations).
Bad News: We got done late and the next group came in while I was still reading.
Good News: That's okay, it's ooblec time! Everyone loves ooblec!
Bad News: Ooblec is very messy. It was time to change groups in 5 minutes. I didn't have a sink. I had no idea how I was going to get 15 kids' hands clean in less than 5 minutes with no sink.
Good News: Oh wait, we do have a sink in the class' bathroom!
Bad News: Despite instructions to wipe the ooblec off their hands and into the pans running to the bathroom, the kids managed to get ooblec EVERYWHERE!
Good News: It's okay, when my class came back for the first break they were more than happy to help clean up.
Bad News: Now I have to keep them occupied for a whole hour before lunch.
Good News: (At the teacher's recommendation...) INDOOR RECESS!
Bad News: I hear a little girl say with urgency, "teacher!" as she barely manages to prevent 2 pans of ooblec from spilling on the floor after she bumped them with the bin she was carrying.
Good News: Teacher saved the day! (and the floor.)
Bad News: More story-reading (it gets old after the 3rd or 4th read) and play time, but one kid becomes very difficult and refuses to do anything.
Good News: An aide intervenes and saves the day!
Bad News: The kids got the room messy again!
Good News: Hour lunch break for me!
Bad News: I forgot to bring a book to read during lunch break.
Good News: I'll write a letter to my sister instead. AND after lunch I have more free time when the kids go to gym.
Bad News: I realize that the teacher didn't say when to pick the kids up from gym class.
Good News: An aid tells me.
Bad News: It's in 10 minutes and there's a 50 minute hole in the lesson plan! I have to come up with something to do for the entire time.
Good News: I brought dried peaches for lunch. I use them to tell a story about fruit in Colorado where I used to live. We play BINGO for dried peach slices, listen quietly to a story for dried peaches and line up quietly for more peaches!
Bad News: More stations, groups of kids, reading the same story over and over, and more mess!
Good News: The end is near. The kids finally leave!
Bad News: They left ooblec and papers and crayons everywhere!!!
Good News: Cleaning ooblec off tables is super easy compared to teaching kindergartners. I survived.

News Flash

So remember when I was saying how little kids get crazier as you go downward in grade level? And remember how I pointed out the trend in sub calls I was getting? And remember how kindergarten was going to be today if the trend continued, but I only kinda suggested it because, hey, who's superstitious anyway?

Well I just got a call for a full day of kindergarten.

Also, I don't really know what to think of this, but I had the scariest dream of my life last night - I was in a hostage situation, forced to lie down on the floor with others. People started getting shot, or were pretty close to it before I woke up. I was too scared to run or anything. Then I recognized it was a dream. And I was too scared to wake up from the dream because I was afraid they would shoot me. It was terrible.

So, wish me luck. And I can't say I'm actually worried about this, but if a group of super-crazy kindergarteners holds me hostage with guns, I totally called it!

(But really, I hope that doesn't happen.)

More Stories From the Teaching Front...

or "substitute teaching front," I suppose, since they are pretty different. As I was briefly discussing with my cousin (a 'real' teacher) the other day, I have the wonderful benefit of being done for the day at 2:30 or 3:30. I can go home, unwind, decide I don't want to come in the next day... whatever. If I don't want to deal with little kids, I can opt for middle school or high school only (though I would get less calls), and my lesson plans are usually simple. Not to mention they are made for me.

By contrast, a 'real' teacher makes lesson plans, gets up every school day, teaches most of a full day, stays a little after, and takes papers home to grade on nights and weekends. And they're responsible for the education of their students. On the plus side, they get to stick with a group of students for a whole year, or at least a semester. And they can watch their kids grow and mature, and see them learning, making progress. And if I'm not mistaken, though teaching is an (arguably) underpaid profession, 'real' teachers still make quite a bit more money than me. (Not to say I begrudge them. They earn every penny!)

Seeing how rewarding even substitute teaching can be, I'm thinking more and more that I would like to be a high school science teacher some day. I like being a positive (hopefully) influence it kids' lives and watching them learn. And I think that all the added benefit of becoming a teacher would far outweigh the extra effort and time commitment it would mean for me. Plus, I could totally design way cool labs for kids, and we could shoot off rockets, and learn about the heat exchanges involved in blowing stuff up and...

Anyway, the whole reason I started this post was to tell some more humorous tales that I have drawn from my experience. One happened quite recently. By Sunday evening I had not yet gotten a call for subbing, and so I went to bed (early, due to a long, exhausting weekend) with my cell phone on, sitting on my night stand. I nodded off right away. I was awoken with a start to my phone ringing. It was still dark and I was suffering the shock of coming out of a deep sleep. I set my alarm clock for about 6:30 am, and usually I get calls around then or a little after. Weird. The caller ID said, "Naffy" - not "sub caller lady." Even weirder. It must be important, though, if my good friend Jonathan was calling me this early in the morning. I picked up the phone and said hello. "Hey Matthew, how's it going? So I was going to respond to your email, but then I thought I'd just call and talk since we haven't talked in a while anyway." Hmmm. Didn't sound that important. "Dude, what time is it?" Jonathan's answer: "Oh shoot! I'm sorry! I forgot you went to bed so early!" I looked at my clock. It was 11:15 pm. I had been asleep for 45 minutes. Suddenly the still-dark world made more sense. We set a different time for talking, and I went back to bed for another 7 hours. I woke up at a more reasonable hour and got a call for a 1st grade class. Which brings me to my second story.

3rd grade last Wednesday, 2nd grade last Thursday, and 1st grade today. And what a day it was! (I told myself that I would try every classroom setting at least once before saying I wouldn't do it, but if little kids get proportionately crazier the more they retro-age, I might just have to rethink my Trying Things Out strategy!) We got through their teacher's lesson plans for the most part, but I was amazed at how often I was needed to put out this fire or that - hurting tummies, using the markers they "weren't supposed to," telling on people for using the markers they "weren't supposed to," a sore eye, a broken bag, a shortage of band-aids, approximately 1 million other grievances and another 2 million things that I forgot to do that their teacher usually did. But to save your reading eyes, I'll just tell the story of a bit of reconciliation work done by myself this morning. I'll even cut it down to just dialogue.

Snot-Nosed Little Boy 1: Mr. Rody, he [points to Snot-Nosed Little Boy 2] has my pencil.
SNLB 2: No I don't! It's my pencil now!
Snot-Nosed Little Boy 3: Yeah, it's his [pointing to SNLB 2] pencil because I sold it to him for three [money flashes].
Mr. Rody [to SNLB 2]: Okay, so you have his pencil?
SNLB 1: Yeah, and my mom said that I couldn't give it away.
Rody: [to SNLB 1]: So how did he get it?
SNLB chorus [in unison, with increasing volume]: He took my pencil! Nuh-uh! But my mom said you shouldn't give stuff back that you buy! I want my pencil back! BLAHBLAHBLAH We're little kids going crazy!!!
Rody: Okay, okay! Now everyone calm down! Let me ask you all some questions, and you can respond when I ask you a question, but you have to use your quiet voice. [to SNLB 2] Where did you get the pencil?
SNLB 3: He [indicates SNLB 3] sold it to me for $3.
Rody: Okay. Should you guys be selling things like that in school?
SNLB 2 & 3: No.
Rody: Right, now where [to SNLB 3] did you get the pencil?
SNLB 2: He [indicates SNLB 1] gave it to me.
Rody [to SNLB 1]: Did you give him the pencil?
SNLB 1: Yeah. [Rody gives him a bit of an Are You Freaking Kidding Me look.] But I forgot. My mom said I couldn't give the pencil to anyone.
Rody: Okay. Well, can you [looking at SNLB 3] give the $3 back to him [looks at SNLB 2]? And can you give him [indicates SNLB 1] his pencil back.
SNLB 1, 2 & 3: Yeah. I guess. Okay. [trades occur. students calm down and go back to work.]
Rody: [turns to audience] Wait. Really? After all that? These kids are N-U-T-S nuts!

The Sub that Keeps On Going

Good news: So far I've been working every day! Yay for making money! Since I last posted, I've gotten to try my hand at teaching in quite a number of new settings - a high school weight training class, a special ed. class, a return visit to an 8th grade English class and today (for the first time ever) an elementary school class. Oh boy.

The fact that I am writing these words right now - that I am still alive to tell the tale - is a testimony to my perseverance, but I must admit I had my qualms about teaching elementary school kids. Yesterday I got to return to an English class I had already subbed for (I'm assuming I was requested. Score!), and I revelled in the comfort of familiarity. I knew where attendance sheets were, I knew some of the kids names, I knew the basic structure of the class... And even on my first day in the high school this felt okay. I had just been a high school student myself only 6 years ago. But 3rd grade was a whole new universe to me. I'm not even sure I'd set foot in an elementary school since going to one some 14 years ago...

Fortunately it was only a half day. And the teacher I was subbing for was in the building and briefly stopped by the class a few times. Still, these kids were tiny, and together formed a mob of tiny, kiddie, snotty-nosed bundles of fun (or insanity?). And I was to be the only force preventing hell from breaking loose. I expressed my anxiety over the possibility of this situation to another sub friend and her response was, "yeah, but with elementary school they're all so full of undying love." And now I see that she was right. These kids may be crazy but at least they are still young enough to think that you are the coolest person ever, unlike their older middle school counterparts, who see teachers as the enemy - agents representing the grown-ups' need for them to work work work, all the time! ...

So anyway, cute kids, can be trouble, still respect you (mostly) ... and I'm thrown in a room with them. Cool. Things went well for the most part, but one humorous (and almost disastrous) incident is worth recounting here.

D.O.L. You may or may not remember this from your own grade school days. I do, and I think I even remember liking it. Daily Oral Language assignments are generally short, and they involve exercises in different aspects of writing. Sentence corrections are mostly what I remember and were the bulk of what my kids were doing this morning. And in my lesson plan paper, I had directions that said, "9:10-9:20 - go over D.O.L., sheet should be on overhead." I was proud of myself for even finding the transparency before the designated time. I did not find any sort of answer key, so I figured that teachers were just supposed to know this stuff. I should be reading at a higher level than 3rd graders, right?

We turned off the lights, and I got the kids' attention up toward the overhead. [Okay... here goes. Just don't let them know you have no idea what you're doing and that you haven't done D.O.L. since you were their age...] First sentence. "Who can tell me what we need to do first?" Hands shot up. (This is one thing I really appreciated today. It's so cool to have kids who want to tell you the answer! If only that were true of most older kids too...) "Right, we capitalize the 's' first." The sentence read something like this:

"since you saw your brother now, will you see him later too"

"Who can tell me what we need to change next?" A smart little girl near the front pointed out that "saw" should be "see." [Oh. Right. I knew that. I did catch that, right? Okay, I've gotta play it cool. Think, Matthew. You know how sentences work. Hell, you can write thesis papers!] "Good. And do we need to change anything else? Yes?" A period at the end! "Good. Okay are we all done with this sentence? Yes?" No, it needs to be a question mark at the end. [&$#^!! Okay. You meant to do that. It's okay. It's all part of your pedagogy - see if they can catch it.] "Gooood. Right, it needs to be a question mark because we're asking a question." [God, save me!]

And I did survive - the rest of D.O.L. as well as the rest of the morning. I was constantly reminded of the weirdly imaginative nature of little kids' minds ("Which words doesn't belong: Lettuce, Tomato, Spoon, or Carrot? Good. Spoon, because it's not a vegetable." But Mr. Rody, what if the spoon was made of spinach?! [Good grief.]), but I mostly just had fun. And my faith in myself in dealing with little kids comes none too soon. Tomorrow I'm spending a full day as a floating sub in a different elementary school!

Wish me the best!

Back to School: B.A. Going on 6th Grade

HeyguesswhatI'mnotaploidanymore!!!!! I'm a substitute teacher now!!!! (You can tell because I'm wearing a sweater vest.)

First Day of School: Self-Portrait

That's right. I can now count myself among the gainfully employed once again. And none to soon; the coffers were running low. I wanted to write this post to share this good news yesterday, but it was a housemate's birthday and festivities had to be provided for and attended to (and I didn't have to sub so I spent the first 6 hours of the day in my pajamas reading books and playing games). And this evening I have plans too, so this will have to be brief. Now I give you thoughts on and recounted adventures in SUBSTITUTE TEACHING...

Monday was President's Day. I was taking it easy, relaxing, half-heartedly looking for jobs... and I was still under the impression that the required criminal background check for my substitute teaching license wouldn't be finished for at least a few more days, maybe a week. So though I went to bed with my phone turned on and atop my night stand I also went to bed at 1:30 am after a showing of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, some funny YouTube videos, and half a chapter of a really cool/nerdy book (The Visual Display of Quantitative Information). And wouldnchaknowit, the phone woke me up at 6:30 the next morning. "Good morning. Can you sub today?" Now or never. "Sure." "Okay, you'll be subbing for Mrs. Yoder at the Middle School..."

This was it! Having never set foot in a classroom (other than as a grade schooler myself, or as a college T.A.) before I donned myself in professional raiment, brushed the snow off my car and drove in the direction of that huge metaphorical 'fire' into which one is thrown to be tested. (I came out a little over-cooked, thanks in part to my previously mentioned sweater vest.)

I was to sub for a 6th grade English teacher. Fun. With the exception of perhaps all of K-5, this setting terrified me the most of all the possibilities. On the plus side, if I could survive this, I could survive anything. And it wasn't too bad. I surprised myself. Before I go on about my Mad Kid Skillz let me just give a shout out to the real heroes: Rita, the super-nice secretary who greeted me when I first came in, Anastasia, the super-nice teacher who led me to my classroom, befriended me and let me eat lunch with her and others, and all 3 of the amazing paras who worked in my classroom and helped keep the situation contained. I guess when it's a thousand vs maybe a hundred, the hundred have to band together if they want to have a hope of keeping the punk-ass thousand at bay.

My day as a 6th grade English teacher was trying. My first two classes were honors classes, and they mostly stayed on task, but I still had to put out my share of fires: kids talking, getting up out of their seats, ripping up their magazines... and the basic English classes were even worse. In short, it was a day-long lesson in how to efficiently use discipline, or the threat thereof, to keep a small mob of hormones from destroying the room. Every class did have its good students, and whenever I could I tried to help and encourage them, but those free moments were few and far between. (Thank god for my planning period - one full hour of paid bliss... and frantic alteration of strategy and rallying of courage!)

Today I was called back to duty. Apparently I left a good impression on the GMS English department because today I was in the classroom of an 8th grade English teacher. Maybe it's because this teacher had a much better handle on her class, maybe it was the maturity that 2 years can develop in young adolescents, or maybe it was the fact that two of my classes today were honors, but today was AWESOME!! The kids were quiet (with some motivating on my part), helpful, respectful and just plain good. Though I had previously sworn I would never teach any grade below 9th, this week's transition from 6th to 8th grade left me feeling pretty good about 8th graders.

Now I really should be heading to dinner, but before I do, some quick thoughts and anecdotes (I'm sure there will be many more to come, as education is fast becoming a passion of mine and... kids say the darndest things...):

-I really feel for good kids stuck in groups or classes with rowdy kids. So many times on Tuesday I wanted to just ignore the kids who were throwing stuff and work with the good kids on learning. Likewise I found it difficult to mandate a one-library-pass-at-a-time policy (to keep the rowdy and grinning boys from wreaking havoc in the hallways) while there was also a line of perfectly responsible children with legitimate reasons for going.

-Surprisingly, the only two comments on my long hair thus far: "Are you a hippie?" and "How long did it take you to grow out your hair?!"

-How does one maintain control? A fellow 6th grade teacher advised starting off on a stern, in-control foot and never backing down from there. And that was more or less necessary with the 6th graders. Today, however, I found that giving students the benefit of the doubt and respecting them resulted only in students who were more open to doing what I told them. Maybe (probably) it was just a difference in maturity, but it will be interesting to experiment with the gentle-but-firm respect vs Super Substitute Smackdown laying on of authority ratio.

-Today, a question from the student after their assignments were completed: "Do you play video games?" Yeah, sometimes. "Oh! What kinds?" Mostly ones for 64. [blank stares] Nintendo 64. [blank stares] You know. Old school. "Ohhhhh, yeah. Yeah, like Super Smash Bros..." At a mere 23 years old, only 2 years out of college, I reeeeeeally dated myself today.

-Another question: "Do you like [name of clothing brand I'm not familiar with]?" I don't know what that is. "Like the clothes." I've never heard of that. "Are you a prep?" Uh... no, I'm just poor.

Well, off I go. More later. Just rest assured (for those who were concerned) that I'm back to work.

Woot.

To Be Frank, I'm Incensed - A Tale of Internet Theft Recounted by a Less Than Happy Narrator

I've never tried writing a blog post while mad before. Frustrated maybe, but never mad. And I'm down right pissed off at the moment. So, maybe I can blow off some steam and have some verbal fun while I'm at it. Bear with me (and try to be entertained).

The background:

About three years ago I decided to start keeping track of my finances in great detail - more than just balancing my check book. I started keeping records of every dollar I spent, cash, check or credit card. ("Isn't that painfully tedious, annoying AND boring?" the reader asks. No. Thanks to my particular neural wiring diagram I love it. I enjoy being meticulous, I have fun recording data and when I can use my records to make cool little projections and graph thingies, all the better!) Last December (2 months ago), I decided to upgrade my methodology from trying to record everything in Microsoft Excel, using instead some free accounting software I found for my Linux operating system Ubuntu - the open source equivalent of Microsoft Quicken, I believe. (I'll sing the praises of open source software in some other blog post.) Now I very efficiently keep track of every single cent I spend or earn and am prompted to cross check my e statements with my recorded account balances. Back track.

Last August I was going over a credit card statement to discover the source of a $15 discrepancy. What I found was some bogus charge from some bogus company somewhere in New England. After calling Visa to dispute the charge I was told I had to first contact the charging company. Now there's an idea... I'll have some things to say to them... Remarkably, I kept a very civil tongue in talking to the company rep. (he sounded like he was from India). As soon as I mentioned that I had never heard of the company and was rather annoyed, he offered to refund the money to my account. In fact, it was blatantly obvious that the company was bogus and that this was the protocol for the scamees who noticed their little games. This is how they play: Somehow (Through spy-ware? It's unclear to me.) they access your credit card information. Then they charge a small amount of money to your account on a monthly basis, sit back and hope you don't realise what they're up to. And if you find out, they refund the money and hope you don't sue. After all, why would you sue? You are getting all of your money back, no matter how pissed you are. And even if only %15 of us are chumps (I'm sure it's much more than that, as it is very difficult to catch even if you don't have very many items charged to your credit card AND you keep meticulous financial records AND you regularly check your credit card statements, if briefly.) That's still quite a bit of income, especially considering the low overhead of having a computer program doing the stealing and having people in India answering the calls. Anyway, I got over it. And that was last August.

The Present:

Today I was catching up on my finance records. A mundane chore, but I don't mind. Also, I decided that it might be a good time to get caught up on reconciling my bank and credit card statements with my personal records. Fun fun fun. My January bank statement checked out to the cent (man is that satisfying). And perhaps that is why I was curious when my credit card statement and my personal records of credit card spending were exactly one dollar off - to my detriment. I needed to change address information anyway, so I logged into my account to investigate. $26.14 for gas, $14.15 for groceries... things were checking out. Still a dollar discrepancy. I scanned my statement once more and there it was. "MVQ*CLUBSAVE 888-239-3917 CT - $1.00" I knew it immediately for what it was. A scam. And this time I had experience with *people* like these. This meant that I knew what to do. And that I had a special place in the Pure Loathing And Resentment section of my heart, all nice and warmed up for them.

I called the 800 number posted by the charge. Time to refute! But these f***ers (At risk for sounding crude or offensive, I think I can safely defend my use of the term by pointing out that within the age demographic that most internet scammers fall into (I think 20+ years old is safe), I bet there's a good %70-80 chance that they've had sex at least once in their lifetime. And as there don't exist such words as 'sexual intercoursers' or 'love-makers'... I guess what I'm trying to say is that while I may sound vulgar, perhaps I'm merely referring to the humanity of these scheming bastards by calling attention to commonalities they share with a vast majority of the rest of the world, which happens to have plenty of good people in it.) had a very clever answering system in place. In order to (maybe?) talk to a real person I had to enter my account number (Hmm, never signed up. Don't have one.), enter my phone number (didn't work - not in the system. Huh.) or enter my credit card number (Do they still think that I'm stupid, having gotten this far in unveiling their scheme?). The machine expressed its sympathies in not being able to help me at the present moment and gave me a very helpful email address to contact. And contact I did while doing my best to restrain my Angry Language. In my email, I requested a full refund for stolen funds, a confirmation notice and that they remove my information from their system. Hopefully they'll get on that. I'm still pissed. Pissed that I'd been had. Again. And had been getting had for seven months. And mostly I'm pissed at the cleverness of their scam. Not only are they stealing money from innocent unwitting people like me but they are essentially safeguarded from retaliation. Sure I'm pissed, but I'm not going to hire a lawyer with money I don't have to shut down their little scam. And neither is the next guy. And they'll just keep cashing in. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

So this is my attempt at one small iota of retribution. I am letting off steam during this writing process and I'M WARNING YOU, YES YOU! of these types of schemes. They're out there. I've been had twice already. I'm not an opponent of buying things with credit cards on the internet - frankly, eBay, Amazon and other online stores are pretty amazing and convenient. But I would praise the recording of spending. Or, if keeping meticulous notes isn't your cup of tea, AT LEAST do yourself the favour of carefully examining your monthly credit card statements, especially if you have ever used the accounts to purchase anything online. These guys are sneaky. They generally charge small amounts ($1.oo in this case) that are hardly noticeable, and they have cute little names like "MVQ*CLUBSAVE." If you don't keep records or save receipts, you can still call to dispute questionable charges and at the worst you can apologise to the totally legitimate business you forgot you purchased from. I for one am going to be much more diligent in checking statements.

...

Yep, still mad. I think this post helped a little, though.

Nomad Turned 'Ploid'

As the post heading suggests, I am (for the time being) casting off my self-appointed label of 'nomad' and replacing it with the more suitable title of 'ploid.' I have settled into a new, albeit temporary (So I guess one could argue that I am still a nomad. But "Nomad Remaining Status of Nomad Yet Also Acquiring the Title of 'Ploid'" seemed too lengthy.), house and now occupy my time being a ploid.

'Ploid' is not a word that one would find in the dictionary, though hopefully one will soon find it in the online Urban Dictionary (thanks to my handiwork). In fact, some of my friends - ploids at the time - coined the word two summers ago when they found themselves sitting around the house, more or less (or totally) unemployed. "We are unemployed," they declared. "We are ploids. We are ploids who are unemployed." Not the most exciting etymology, but one befitting the creators of the word itself. Over the course of the summer, the word 'ploid' found its way into everyday use, and the self-proclaimed ploids won renown for their flexible schedules, fun and interesting daytime projects and their laid back lifestyles. They also had no source of income, but they didn't care because they had enough money to survive for the interim time between jobs.

Now, based on this description, I am not a ploid in the strictest sense of the word. I am currently unemployed and I do revel in my wide open daily schedule, but I am looking for work. And as of this morning, after a Personal Financial Investigation (looking at my account balances), I'm redoubling my efforts. Am I worried? No. Will I survive? Yes. I am merely coming to the realization that my savings are finite and that my spending-to-income ratio is infinite (or undefined, I suppose, mathematically speaking). In order to improve this ratio, I am now trying even harder to find a job, and I'm getting less and less picky. I've now applied to the local school system (for substitute teaching), several tutoring positions, several food industry positions, and most recently I signed up to take a qualifying test to work for the 2010 census! (I'm secretly hoping for a census job at this point. Decent pay, novelty and temporariness are all good things right now.)

On the other side of the coin I decided to take a tip from Obama and work at Freezing Domestic Discretionary Spending. That is to say that for the time being I'm not going to spend money on craft beer (expensive vice #1), chocolate (expensive vice #2) or... anything really. You may be thinking, "beer is one thing, but how do you freeze spending on other expensive vices like... say... FOOD?!" No worries. One housemate works at a bakery, the other at a diner. I get free carbs out the wazoo! (Judging from Urban Dictionary's definitions of the word 'wazoo' that last statement is true in more ways than one...) PLUS, in my vast amount of free time I find plenty of time to dumpster dive, scoring such finds as oranges, peppers, green beans, onions, eggs, yoghurt, and PIZZA ROLLS! (Let the record state that though I think those little morsels are disgusting, I also think that they are disgustingly delicious. And I was probably pleased by this find the most.) So I won't starve at least.

And speaking of vast amounts of free time, let me say a bit about all of the, er, productive things I've been doing with my time. The first priority, obviously, has been to secure a job, and much (though admittedly not enough) of my time has been devoted to searching the web, filling out applications, and tailoring resumes. I have also been spending a decent amount of time exercising - something I had not really had time for with my previous job. Squash, climbing at the rock wall, and pond hockey have been my preferred means. (Though hockey has been a tough one recently as one of my borrowed skate's blade broke off - sorry, Tim!) Moving in/organising my room has been another ongoing endeavour (I've been finding that it's difficult to organise small things when you have no furniture.) and has led to construction of a coffee table from dumpstered materials. I have also been intentionally setting aside time for self-edification, and I've been reading on such topics as digital photography and computer programming. Finally, I've been spending glorious amounts of time hanging out with friends and playing games! Woot! I may not have any money, but life is good! And that is the anthem of the ploid.