Send Off

The sun is up I’m so happy I could scream
And there’s no where else in the world I’d rather be
Here with you it’s perfect
It’s all I ever wanted
I almost cannot believe that it’s for real
So pinch me quick

-The Cure, Mint Car
Although many memories are associated with The Cure, today, I want to remember the summer of ‘02. The time for my imminent departure was near. My time was split between Lucy or Armie.

Lucy and I would spend hot nights packed into Speaking Rock slinging back bottles of Bud and shots with the guys who had bets going on how many girls’ pants they could get into. I don’t know if Lucy was aware of this since she always accepted their drinks, dances, and walk to her car.

Nights with Armie were always more fun. She wasn’t out to find a man. All she wanted to do was drink. Because of this, we would often change scenes and go to The Comic Strip or some dark bar to shoot some pool.

It was great send off.


Sent Home

I was sent home Friday because my blood pressure was high.

I wasn’t going to talk about this here because I didn’t want people in my family to find out. At first, my reasoning was because I didn’t want them to worry about me. But the truth is that I am extremely embarrassed.

I am embarrassed that I have let myself go this far physically, mentally, and emotionally. Talking to my writing buddy today really made me take stock of what my life has become.

Teaching was never my life goal. I fell into it. It was meant to be a retention pond before going on, but it’s becoming a retention pond with no outlet. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with kids and certain kids really make me feel fortunate and happy to do my job, but something tells me it’s not meant to be my “life work.”

My writing buddy also told me that I’m failing my artistic side. And really, I can’t argue with her. Looking at this blog, I can also see the effects of my current situation and I can even track I got where I am. Sometimes, I don’t even want to blog because I know it’s going to be about work. Every other conversation that I have somehow involves work, and I’m sick of it.

As much as I’d like to give my current life the one finger salute, I know I can’t. That's not what grown ups do. Instead, there are small things that I can do to increase my quality of life. The first of which is not brining home so much work. Instead of filling up my spare time with more work so that I end up like a vegetable at the end of the day, work stays at school, and 30 minutes of writing will take it’s place. Even if I’m not exactly writing, but reading an essay on the craft, editing something, or re-reading things I feel good about.

I have also scheduled into my week three days for exercise. I know I should probably do more, but for now, I will work with that. As I learn to take things off my plate, I will be able to increase real life activities.

When I see how the quality of my life either increases or decreases, I will be more inclined to do more for myself.


Our Ass Has Hit the Floor

I know that as a woman and feminist, I should have voted for Hillary. But there is that part of feminist ideology that talks about helping all people, not just some. I also know that Hillary has a lot of experience. However, when I’ve been down in the slumps after watching Sicko (which thouroughly depressed me for a while), a long day of work battling a system that doesn’t work, reading lists of the deceased in the Iraq war, the only candidate that has been able to inspire hope in me again has been Obama.

Sometimes, it’s okay for the inexperienced to try their hand at something new. As my 9th Grade World History teacher used to say, “Once your ass hits the floor, you can’t go anywhere else but up.”