Getting Paid To Sleep


Perquisite number one of being a teacher: Getting paid to do absolutely anything I want (within the law, of course) for two-ish months of the year.  This is not to say that teaching is necessarily ‘worth it’ for the summer break; there are a million other factors required for teaching to be ‘worth it’. I simply mean that the top benefit of being a teacher is the summertime pay.

Around 2pm on a Monday (after having gone to bed extremely late), a friend, who has a full-time job, started this bit of conversation:

“Umm what are you up to today?”
“Literally lying on my living room floor right now” [<-my part]
“Oh very nice! I’m working haha”
“I’m working hard to stay awake. That’s almost the same thing”
“Really now? I’m exhausted, you’re killing me!”

And this is just a typical day in the neighborhood.  I had already played around on guitar, done some studying up on Japanese history, and accomplished many other things in preparation for my upcoming trip.  I made myself some actual breakfast around 2pm (as opposed to the snacks I’d been having all morning), and then went rock-climbing with friends, only to fall asleep on my living room floor afterward in the middle of dinner.

Yesterday, I sat outside with my cat and watched the severe rain- and thunderstorm pound down on the city, thereby canceling all of my hoped-for plans for the day.  (I decided to paint at home instead, before going out to a seminar and a midnight dinner with my mom and a friend.)

Today I woke up around 9:30 (exceedingly late for me after my usual 5:20am school year alarm), well-rested and ready to go.  I made a fancy healthy smoothie, and then went rock-climbing with a friend (my second time this week and ever).  I just helped out a friend over the phone with some grammar questions she had for her job (You, too, can learn about punctuating dates and times in the middle of a sentence! Click here. Haha.), and I’ll go put away my now-dry paintings I did yesterday evening, then head to the pool for a bit.  Later, I’ll end up at my mom’s house for dinner and a sewing lesson; I get to make my own skirts tomorrow!  (Naturally, I am thrilled, because I cannot seem to find beautiful clothing that actually fits me and was anywhere near fairly-traded.)

This week has been rather organized compared to others.  But, the point is: it doesn’t even matter if my day is organized or not, if I am hyper-productive or not – I am paid to update my skills, practice my various hobbies, and sleep as much or as little as I want.  No strings attached.

Of course, there are a million drawbacks to being a teacher (the main one at the moment being that, even though I have plenty of time to do whatever I like right now, I can only afford the average, everyday kinds of things, because teachers earn like no money in the first place).  However, summer vacation is really just the bomb.  Period.  And, because of our pay, I don’t even have to feel bad for all those suckers stuck in suits and offices all day long, while I lie in the sun, have some gelato, bike ride, and go wherever my fancy takes me… which is occasionally to right here on my living room floor.  I can just enjoy getting paid to sleep (or not).  🙂

When Angels Arise

Awaiting the reasonable release of afternoon traffic, I sit facing Half Price Books and enjoy a too-sweet Bubble Tea, alternating between reading my newest book selection and setting up an Etsy shop on my laptop.  My phone rings – it’s my mom.  Good!  She’s returning my call; I can ask her my health-related question now.

“Hey… have you been on Facebook?” she begins.

“No… What happened?”

“I just talked to Anthony,” and I somehow knew what she was in the middle of saying, “John died early this morning.”

After a brief discussion – she’s in the middle of an out-of-town event, but she wanted to make sure I heard it from her instead of some lame Facebook post – in which she reminded me several times to breathe, I was left alone with my closed laptop and sunglasses, clutching my near-dead phone (what a concept), keeled over my chair, wailing in despair.

Mere moments later, I was clinging desperately to a girl (aged 27) named Stephanie, who had stopped to check on me, and had graciously accepted my request for a hug.  She had me tell her a bit about John, and we chatted some about schools and work (Turns out she is a nurse, and was involved in the software training just recently managed by my brother at her hospital.).  Once I was thinking and breathing like a normal person again, we actually exchanged names and a chuckle over the “pleasure” of making one another’s acquaintance.  And for whatever reason, this was a wonderful way to meet someone.

When she finally went inside for her own Bubble Tea (after firmly denying my offer to purchase it for her), I noticed that the small rally-type group down the block was singing a Christian worship song.  “Huh.  God is all around [me right now],” was my passing thought.

Our dear friend John has moved onward in the universe, into a more disorderly form of himself (search E = mc2 and the law of the conservation of mass-energy).  And he gave me an angel (plus an easy way to make time fly while waiting for that traffic to die down (again, what a concept)). This, however, did not surprise me.

The surprising part was that this wasn’t the first time I’d had this happen.  It was as though this just might be a trend – that my friends, my loved ones, send me angels when I need them most. And I think it is not only when I feel I have lost those specific loved ones.  Perhaps this was merely a reminder that Angels are watching over me, that they are here for me.  Perhaps this has created an opportunity for me to dive into my ocean of a life, instead of just dipping in my toes.  Because wherever I go, whatever I do, Angels will arise for me.


I love you, John.  Thank you.  🙂


Day One in Web-Logs


Well, here it is: my very own web-log.  Sitting with our feet in the warm pool, drinking hot coffee and tea, attempting to have the boxer Khaleesi come close enough to pet, my friend Nicole and I discussed an array of topics (as is usual for our time spent together).  As we reached the various strands of the “What do I do with my life?” discussion, again was the idea verbalized (by yet another of my friends) of my having a web-log for my coming adventures.  This time, however, I was given some specifics.  Nicole told me to check out the website she uses for her couture clothing business (totally awesome stuff, by the way – I want to be her sometimes), and so we went indoors when the rain started, and we pulled out the computers.

Now, fifteen-ish minutes later, I have my very own WordPress website slash web-log.  Here’s to my keeping up-to-date on it, and to a successful partagement (sharing) of amazing and enthralling stories.



—For those seeking precision and clarity:
enthrall verb  en·thrall  \in-ˈthrȯl, en-\ :to hold the attention of (someone) by being very exciting, interesting, or beautiful