Dear people who try to lecture me about learning styles,
Don’t feed me crap like “I’m visual, I have to see it written” or “I’m left-brained, so I spacial approaches are wasted on me” or “flash-cards help me learn language,” and then scream at me with some “learning style” argument. I have a Master’s Degree in Foreign Language Teaching Methodology, which means I’ve taken seminars on learner styles and strategies, done research and passed a master’s exam on exactly that topic. So don’t invoke your pedestrian understanding of a complex topic that you read a poorly summarized article about 10 years ago in Newsweek and call it gospel.
Ok, that’s out of my system.
My quest to lead a less-boring life has led me so far to hanging out with R on Alki, with Auntie R and her friend R at New Hong Kong, to meeting Y for happy hour at Via Tribunali. I’ve heard S is back in town from China, and J is already asking about the next karaoke situation.
This week, though, I can’t say there’s much on. I had parents’ “back-to-school” night tonight; which was perfectly pleasant but I didn’t get home until after 9:45pm. Tomorrow night is Vamolà, and I can’t wait… to hang out after practice.
One thing I’m almost afraid to admit is that I still miss my old friends from China terribly. I miss their voices. I miss that I was the only one with this stupid American accent. I miss how they made me feel like my struggles at the office were totally immaterial, sometimes I could forget completely that work even existed. I miss that we’d all just get together over drinks and that was the program. Americans need an objective if we’re going to be together, we always have to accomplish something.
I also miss my good friends in New York City; the cook-ins, the exploring, the samba. That feeling that something epic is going to happen later today, or maybe tomorrow. The free drinks; the cab rides home.
Somehow Seattle sitting on the balcony and talking sounds either like a sentimental luxury or a waste of time; like we can only give ourselves twenty minutes to do it, and then we have to go accomplish something. Go back to doing something serious.
One of the worst things about being back in Seattle is not being able to look at it through new eyes. I drive on Harbor Ave or Alki, over the Alaskan Way Viaduct… or I sit in the Faculty Lounge and its million-dollar view of the Montlake Cut and the University of Washington and think, “wow, later I should really be intentional about taking time to appreciate this beautiful city… later.” I was sitting on Lake Union with B the other day, and I looked up and saw the Space Needle and thought, yep… there it is again…
Three years ago I left this town behind, thinking “there is more to life than this; there is more to my career than this.” Now I’m back, and I’m glad to be here, but part of me wonders if I’m satisfied with the answers to those questions.