kitchen table

there's nothing the world loves more than to crunch up your dreams like breakfast cereal with milk. i wish i could better choose who i share my dreams with.

i'm sorry i've been slack with the writing. i've had nothing much of substance or interest happen in the last while. i've been calculating midterm marks, mostly. and also sitting through two days of racist tedium. i don't think you want to hear about bad white beckie right now. let's just say it's all my fault. all of it.

aside from that, we've had a wicked blizzard all weekend. fiona is safely and chastely out of heat. marsh is good. my students have fallen off the proverbial wagon, and i'm trying not to take it personally.

most exciting by far is that i fly out in exactly one month, and i will have two and a half weeks of glorious southern vacation in which to drink and laugh and shop. if you know any good men, throw them in my path.

is it too late to go back to school? what if i want to change careers? what if i want something to show for my life of work besides old snapshots and memories. i don't want to be a fucking bitch teacher for the rest of my life. and the fact that i stumble every day over the irony of me being a rule-maker and -enforcer, the fact that i reinforce a system i don't actually believe in, and the fact that i stifle so much of myself and my opinions... well i think those might be valid points in the argument for a new career.

ps school isn't even sucking. and i'm happy. i'm having enough fun, if not enough intelligent discourse. but it's like my shoes are always a little bit too tight.