sarcastic dishrag

S is leaving, which makes me both sad and hopeful about the future.  He is a lovely person, kindhearted and warm.  He is easy to work with because his expectations are minimal, and he thinks everything I do is wonderful.  This is a soft place to be, and I like it, but it does not challenge me; all my challenge comes from other sources, but it is his office where I spend the most time collaborating, and he has little to offer to that process beyond compliments.  He has been offered an opportunity that is good for him, and for which he is well-suited.  In the interim until summer I will be working with H, which is great.  H is stronger than S in terms of discipline.  He isn't afraid to call parents and to call kids out on stupid behaviour.  He is also kind and warm, and his compliments (unlike S's compliments) contain a bit of innuendo.  He will listen to me and do what I tell him - for the most part.

The real question is who will be assigned to the position in September, because I will work with that person closely for the next five years.  It could be anyone, but I have a vision in my mind's eye of who it should be.  The District doesn't generally (has never) answered my prayers in this regard and yet I chose to hope this time it will be different.  I don't care if they send me a man or a woman; I just want someone smart who will balance their kindness with some leadership and direction.  I want it all.  (Amen.)


*

I am not going to work today because I am owed time, and it always strikes me funny how I struggle with these days off.  Although they are a treat, at the same time I cannot help but check my email throughout the day to find out what I'm missing, and I cannot help but feel aggravated imagining the fuck-up things that the rest of them will do for my kids while I am gone.  Yes, that's right.  I am irreplaceable.  (Haha.)


*

I have embarked on another water fast.  Our first fast was highly successful (though difficult) and we managed seven days without any cheating.  Since then we have attempted a few more, and always broken down around the end of day two, which is when hunger peaks - along with irritability and fatigue.  It's the hardest part, and we have been weak.  This time I am doing it alone (S is doing cardio and doesn't want to lose momentum), and somehow I think this will make it easier rather than more difficult, because I cave when he caves.  It's only the start of day 2, however, so I may not be as strong as I think I am.  But I have strategically organized my time so that I will return to work on day 5, by which point the misery should have abated.  I will save my worst self for my family, who are forced to tolerate me in spite of my plan to morph into a sarcastic dishrag for the next 48 hours.


*

pending

My heart aches for those affected by this terrible tragedy... blah blah blah... May this small gesture provide some comfort in their time of loss... blah blah blah.... --insert narcissistic selfie of me wearing hockey jersey, attempting a balanced blend of somber and cuteness--

I don't get how that provides anyone a "small measure of comfort".  It sort of makes me want to make retching noises at people.  But I should be kinder.  People want to make gestures, they just don't know how (while still clinging tightly to their wallets).

*

I keep having strange dreams of being back in high school where I am expected to perform mathematical feats of brilliance that I could not have accomplished when I was a student, let alone now with the benefit of more than twenty five years to forget what little I knew.  I wonder what this means.

*

the next system moves in tomorrow

When L told me he'd read my mother's book, I felt an odd and unexpected sense of betrayal, odd on several counts.  Odd because, a.) L owes no loyalty as we don't really know one another anymore, b.) L does not know I have any problem with the book, and c.) he likely read the book because I promoted it, at my mother's request.

Logic does not exactly assuage the feeling, however, and something prickly inside me wanted to pursue it.  He told me his wife (ex-wife?) is similarly ill.  This is sad, of course, for him and for their children.  But I still wanted to point out that he has been chasing the mentally ill since I met him in eighth grade.  And I wanted to ask him what he gets out of being in a relationship with someone who is damaged and dependant - because clearly this is exactly what he seeks.  It is what he was drawn to as a young teenager, and it is who he continued to be drawn to in adulthood and took seriously enough to marry and have children...  (This might be the least compassionate response a person could have when an old friend is expressing a vulnerable part of himself.  What tempts me to take a bloody swipe at his jugular while it's softly exposed?)

I resisted the pull toward this ugly line of interrogation, but felt relieved when he had to go to take a business call in case I lost control of my tongue.  (T always tells me she is frightened in meetings when I do not speak because my silence is so loud.  I prefer this vision of myself, as having the power to capture everyone's attention without speaking.  But unfortunately I have less discipline over the things that come out of my mouth than she thinks.)  I managed to keep myself quiet.

*

T texted me this morning to tell me she is taking the day off work to go to a doctor appointment.  She did not know that I had also booked today off.  My purpose - to take one of the dogs to the doggy dentist.  This is not a valid use of sick time, but it is my first sick day this school year, so I feel no guilt.  And I am pleased that T and I are away on the same day because I dislike working without her.  People will likely think we have taken the day off to play hooky together - which would have been fun if we had organized ourselves better.

*

I am rather fascinated by Kinder Morgan's announcement today about halting work on the Trans Mountain Pipeline expansion project.  Rachel Notley is losing her shit at British Columbia and the whole thing has me mesmerized.  I wonder if this is like a bull fight - or if it is more a game of chicken.  Are the threats real?  Are the weapons really sharp?  Will Albertans really stop drinking BC wine?


*

why are you yelling

On Wednesday a colleague of mine received word her eldest son had died of an accidental overdose.  Heroin and Fentanyl.  Her daughter is a student at the school.   Immediately administration took over how the news would be broken to the daughter.  And how many days off school she would be told to take.  And her counsellor took over instructing her on how to grieve and how to recover.

The whole affair made me sick to my stomach.  It has been a long time now since Colleen died of her overdose, but the memory of people trying to tell me how to live with that is powerfully clear.  Her counsellor trying to talk to me about enabling.  My mother trying to talk to me about how it is okay to feel relief when someone dies.  All the opinions of people who did not know our relationship, did not know how I felt, telling me how I felt, how I should feel, and how I should proceed.  I came back to work very quickly after her death, sooner than all my helpful advisors wanted, because it seemed worse to be alone at home with it.  And one day, after everyone thought I was fine, I went home from work in the middle of the day without asking or telling anyone.

In our team meeting, I asked my administrative and counselling colleagues not to tell our colleague or her daughter what they need right now.  I suggested instead to ask them what they need, and then facilitate it without judgment or questions.  They all looked at me like I was crazy.  K said, I appreciate that Lisa, and then proceeded to carry on with making her plans.

*

mistrial

Travelling with him causes me to puzzle over my relationship with RW.  There are times we are very much in synch with each other; those moments when you can look across a room and make eye contact and know exactly what the other person is thinking and it makes you bust out laughing.  Likewise we have these lovely moments where we are able to predict what the other one needs and provide it ahead of time preventing the momentary glitch that would otherwise have caused a jolt.

And yet, there are also moments where I find myself irritated to a degree that I have to leave the space he occupies.  We are such different people, and I struggle with some aspects of his personality - in particular his incessant narrative, delivered at full volume, without time for a breath.  I believe in his intentions (to entertain, to share, to connect) but I find it exhausting that he fills every space with noise and rarely ever stops to listen.  It leaves no room for anyone else to have a thought, an idea, a personality, and everyone around him becomes an audience member (welcome) or invisible (unwelcome).  I start out as audience but always fade to invisible by the end of the trip because I cannot maintain interest or patience.  And it seems that the more I retreat, the more manic his need to be the centre of attention becomes.

It is now another year until we do this again (maybe) - which gives me plenty of time to recover.  And him plenty of time to develop new material.

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