A rocking chair type of thing

6 02 2009

So I went and had Vietnamese food tonight with Sharon, and that was good, albeit the Richard thing was a little unsettling. But okay. It, too, could have been worse.

In other portions of the day: work was… work. We started writing the “Where I’m From” poem by George Ella Lyon and it was KILLER. Very difficult because it’s so abstract and seemingly-random. I can’t wait till they hand them in; knowing where who you are now is originally from shapes your understanding of who you will be, I think. I’ll bang mine up when I see it again.

I’m on my way home right now, and the bus is giving off this crazily high-pitched whine as it’s going, and I’m getting The Official Killer Headache. Love it? Not so much.

I feel a bit more positive today – at least I know what I need to do: plan out the rest of the English 9 week (going with metaphor, the overbearing statement, and simile that’s like strands of silk in the web of poetry), as well as Advanced Comp (with the rap-as-poetry connection, which loves as it hears and shouts as it speaks). History 9 week will have to happen a bit later as I don’t know quite where to begin. Either way, before Tuesday afternoon would be fine, I reckon. I’m supposed to meet up with Sharon again tomorrow so we can work on our respective essays. A bit of accountability and company never hurt. Maybe I’ll go to the young adults thing tomorrow night, without SR being my Saturday (but also, how do I react to the numbered group? What if I end up loving it? What if it’s where God ultimately tells me I have to be? 7 months may seem short, and long at alternating times, but to whom am I accountable during this time? I need to know the answer in my heart and not just in my head, and I need to let go).

I’m just so tired… I felt like I could fall asleep on my feet on the train going out tonight, and that’s the first time I’ve ever felt that way. I’ve not had bad sleep for a whole week since I was a teenager. I’m getting too old for this.

Ahh, but sometimes I do love the work I do; teaching keeps me young and on my toes. But sometimes I wish I were retired and could spend my time reading a good book in a rocking chair.




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