Wednesday, February 08, 2006
by the way . . .
my 20-year COLLEGE reunion is this coming weekend, and I'm in blech-ville. CRAP! mf, gd *&%$#* BLECH!
Blech.
Blech blech-blech blechity blech. Blechy blech blech blah blah blah blah. Blahdee blahdeeblah, blechity blech. Blah blah blech blech, blech blah. BLAH!!!!!
Is it me? or it is just February?
Blech. The days are wet and gray or falsely warm-looking until the wind hits your face - either way, they are unwelcoming.
I'd like to climb into bed tonight and wake up to March. I know there will be some beautiful days in February - there always are - but I'm in a hurry.
I'm in a funk. It's like someone draped a sadness net over me and I couldn't find my way out struggling, so I just gave up. I'm wearing that thing around every day. I'm still functioning, but it's not like the real me. It's like this tiny percentage of me that gets up, showers (thank god), and dresses for the job. A percentage of me drives the car listening to NPR (probably another reason for the funk) and arrives at the job on time (not early.) A tiny part of me tries to teach and gets angry when the kids won't do anything they are supposed to do. A very thankful part of me arrives at lunch and planning period, and a residual fraction of the original percent finishes out the last two periods of the day and drives home. I hit the bed within twenty minutes of getting home and take enough of a nap to get me through cooking supper, getting kids bathed, read to, homeworked (if they're not already done), and in the bed. Then I collapse into bed, sleeping fitfully until it's time to do this again.
Weekends have offered only extra time in the fetal position. The family surrounds me and tries to build me back up, but there's very little to work with these days.
Today, I would rather have taken a series of painful vaccinations than to have taught my classes. My team teacher said it's just another type of pain in the butt.
So, . . . this is the reward for the borrowed $10k from the government, the two years of schooling, homework, writing papers, doing research. This is the reward for working 3 part time jobs, sleeping very little, and putting everyone in my life off while I completed this master's degree. Fascinating.
Blech.
I'd like to climb into bed tonight and wake up to March. I know there will be some beautiful days in February - there always are - but I'm in a hurry.
I'm in a funk. It's like someone draped a sadness net over me and I couldn't find my way out struggling, so I just gave up. I'm wearing that thing around every day. I'm still functioning, but it's not like the real me. It's like this tiny percentage of me that gets up, showers (thank god), and dresses for the job. A percentage of me drives the car listening to NPR (probably another reason for the funk) and arrives at the job on time (not early.) A tiny part of me tries to teach and gets angry when the kids won't do anything they are supposed to do. A very thankful part of me arrives at lunch and planning period, and a residual fraction of the original percent finishes out the last two periods of the day and drives home. I hit the bed within twenty minutes of getting home and take enough of a nap to get me through cooking supper, getting kids bathed, read to, homeworked (if they're not already done), and in the bed. Then I collapse into bed, sleeping fitfully until it's time to do this again.
Weekends have offered only extra time in the fetal position. The family surrounds me and tries to build me back up, but there's very little to work with these days.
Today, I would rather have taken a series of painful vaccinations than to have taught my classes. My team teacher said it's just another type of pain in the butt.
So, . . . this is the reward for the borrowed $10k from the government, the two years of schooling, homework, writing papers, doing research. This is the reward for working 3 part time jobs, sleeping very little, and putting everyone in my life off while I completed this master's degree. Fascinating.
Blech.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
