a new kind

It is only a month until I will be going to New York.  Travelling alone always makes me somewhat morose and turns what could otherwise be interpreted as adventures into missions.  Missions that require incredible resources of energy I feel certain I do not possess.  Every airport pat down leaves me feeling assaulted and small.  But New York.  Of course I am taking this trip.

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Last night I did not sleep.  Instead I decided to spend the night worrying about who will be hired to teach in my space next semester during the time I am counselling.  My administrators are not trustworthy where it comes to hiring my roommate and I am nervous about who I will be living with.  It would be difficult to find someone as horrible as Crazy Sue, but it could happen.  It could and it might. I will sleep when I have more information.  Perhaps on my desk.

This week classes are suspended for exams, a strange thing since the province is doing away with provincial exams leaving us with five open days and very very few exams being written.  We won't get away with this for long, but for now it is a sweet restful week of catching up with colleagues I have not seen in a long time, tidying my desk (ha), and making personal phone calls to manage my life - all things I should have taken care of long ago.  (It is possible that I am actually still nineteen years old.)

Although I remain employed at the current job, my mind has already begun moving me into the second job.  I have mentally moved my messy desk into the counselling office, and I have been spending a lot of (union) money on workshops and conferences in preparation.  They might be helpful.  If nothing else, they give me back the student feeling that makes me so happy when I can recapture it.  Perhaps this is why I work in a school.  The illusion of being a perpetual student.  The move to counselling could potentially force me into adulthood and that is worrisome.  People expect Drama teachers to be flaky which makes me look extra amazing when I ocassionally remember to do something.

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BB is trying to get pregnant, the way some women do.  It is a complicated process, and expensive.  Our health plan covers only some of it.  I want her to be successful because it is important to her.  I want her to be happy because she is my friend.  This is interesting to me, the fact that I have friends again.  I have what I call a coven, three other women with whom I spend time at work, and even, sometimes, on weekends.  This is a new development, not really, but it seems that way.  Friendship feels foreign because I moved around a lot for a number of years and left friends behind until I forgot that friends mattered much.  I blame Shawn for being too comfortable and easy a friend, thus eliminating my need to seek outside friends. I did not put much effort into making friends, but I have made some, nonetheless, and I am sure Shawn is relieved that he is no longer entirely responsible for this aspect of my care.  My new friends are lovely.


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