By the second verse, dear friends, my head will burst, my life will end

M wanted me to meet him for coffee this morning. When he invited me - several days ago - I said yes and immediately began thinking about which excuse I would use to get out if it. There may have been a fifteen minute stretch over those days when I considered the possibility of actually going, but not seriously. In the end I went with the classic (sick); the pandemic has made this excuse much easier to rely upon. People no longer encourage you to take some ibuprofen and do your best. They want you to stay the hell away. It would have been cooler of me to just decline the invitation, but I haven't totally mastered that art quite yet. Sometimes I can do it really well (for example when S invited me to help him move furniture to prepare for his renovation I said hell no with gusto, while the other two meekly acquiesced) but other times it feels impossible. Especially with M, who is a weird combination of bossy and fragile. ***
*** Today S taught me how to use some digital wizardry that will allow me to have access to my university textbooks on my computer, ipad, and phone, all at once. I can even make the screen reader read the text out loud to me while I am walking. What a world. He tells me that the new AI technology will also help me write papers. I wonder where this kind of magic crosses over the line into being unethical. ***
***

I can’t be anywhere without being somewhere else so I always miss what’s happening here

This morning the Director sent me an email with a direct link to the job posting we discussed the other day. With this kind of encouragement I am going to be a little annoyed if I don't get the job. But what am I doing? Am I really going to leave public education, just like that? In my special sociopathic way, leaving will trouble me in that I have still not been successful making C leave. C sucks and without me putting pressure on her to work, she will probably stay forever. (Sucking and so forth.) I like that she is uncomfortable with me, I like that she knows that I know she sucks. But apart from my sociopathy, leaving could really be incredible. Terrorizing C is not a good enough reason to stay.

Ka-pow

Last night I learned about "hot chocolate bombs", something I have managed to avoid coming across long past the peak of the trend. Yesterday I received a pretty (unlabelled) little gift box with a pretty little (unlabelled) chocolatey-looking thing inside it. With no knowledge of hot chocolate bombs, I made the assumption it was some kind of pastry, like a cream puff or something like that. Being the generous soul that I am, when I got home from work, I asked S to share this cream puff with me, and he agreed. Because we share cooties, I figured I would bite it and then hand over the other half. When you bite into a hot chocolate bomb, the chocolate shell shatters like glass, spraying shards of chocolate in all directions. And the powdery middle explodes, bomb-like, in a choking cloud of chocolate dust. And the intensity of the chocolate, which would probably taste nice if it was diluted in hot milk, is sickeningly strong and overpoweringly sweet. So don't bite a hot chocolate bomb if you can avoid it. You pobably won't like it.

Click

The side gig teaching university has potentially blossomed into another opportunity, which now has me spinning a little. I asked the director for some more information about it, expecting perhaps a job description handbook to come to me in an email. Instead she asked me to meet her in a Zoom call. The Zoom call suddenly meant staying in my clothes when I would normally be in my pajamas, which was a little stressful. But more than that, really, was the fact that it suddenly felt like I was going to a job interview, which is something I have not done for a very long time. However, it went very well. The director made the job sound very good. Some instruction. Some administrative work. No need to leave my house if I don't want to. (Ummm. Perfect.) Some paid time to work on my doctorate (what?!). No overtime. She told me I am a good candidate and encouraged me to apply. She also told me that the other Associate Director recommended me. Not to sound cocky because I do not know who else might be applying for this gig, but I feel like I have a good shot at it if I decide to pursue it. That's a crazy thought that I could leave public education just like that. In the middle of the school year. It's wild. If I was P, I might just dive in and see what happens. He's brave like that. But in my own way, I am whirring a bit about gains and losses, loves and not-loves, people and screens. And all those things. There is time to think.

Fallen

abruptly it has become quite cold and dry; it feels like Winter Prairie instead of Wet Left Coast. i had almost forgotten the apprehension of static building as feet cross carpet, the hilarity of the ZAP! when someone else (not me) touches a metal door handle and screams. *** i am amused by RD; to be fair he is new and being new may come with a certain desire to prove oneself. the way that looks can vary. on RD it seems a bit smug, with a side order of needy. he often tells me that he is smart, and i do not disagree. but anyone who works full time, has young children, and claims to read a novel every other day is definitely lying. (or as BB would say, that is clearly not your tie.)

Anyone in the world.

the district sent me an email congratulating me on being selected (one of 16 people, but out of how many applicants, i wonder?) to participate in some three-part series on equity and advocacy with professor somebody. i feel as though this is something prestigious because they are providing a catered lunch at a time when most events are asking their participants to pack a bag lunch - which is embarrassing but that's another story. i can barely remember applying to participate in this thing, and i don't remember why i wanted to. it is possible that i was just looking for ways to be out of the building, which i do a lot; i need ways to break up long weeks. it is possible that i am not really the best candidate for this thing.

Total defiance

my watch just suggested that i "take a break". while i appreciate this idea, the timing is odd, since i am already lounging on the couch like a sloth. i am not sure how much more relaxed i can get unless i go to bed. (which isn't to say that i'm opposed to the idea of going to bed.) i spent a nonsensical amount of time trying to access my courses on the university website before i finally gave in and enlisted tech support. if the whole program is going to go like this it might just be too hard for me. tech support sent me new credentials and we pretended it never happened. rw told me that getting a doctorate isn't about being smart, it's just about hanging in. i wondered if this was an insult or if it was meant to be reassuring. (i did not feel reassured.) -- and i find rw's neck beard a bit disgusting. he is a man who travels softly between looking rugged and looking dirty, and while i believe my appetite for the latter is stronger than many women's, i do not find it appealing when rw starts to look like he lives in a tent on the downtown east side. anarchist guitar playing philosopher, yes. homeless man with beard mites, no.

Tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things

(most of the time i guess i felt alright)

25

ocassionally (and i hate to be a person who has to check how we spell ocassionally) J takes an interest in my life as a 25 year old. as she approaches 25 it occurs to her to wonder what i might have been like at 25, and it occurs to me to wonder if my recollections are at all accurate or if i imagine myself more composed, more certain, and more together than i actually was. i believe i was in my second year of teaching at this point. this would have been the year i dressed in a ninja costume to teach sex ed (condoms over bananas relay races). it's a miracle i wasnt fired or at least called into the principal's office to account for my antics. this was also the same year i poured a cup of water on a student's head from the second floor stairs down the main floor while i was supposed to be on hallway supervision. (why? because he was annoying. same reason i would have had if i was twelve.) twenty-five year old me was not particularly wise or level, but she was fun and she knew how to make herself laugh. when i started writing this i was imagining i was going to write things i remembered about T, but then i remembered he was gone by the time i was 25. i have been married for twenty years.

Virtual race

My application for certification with CCC was successful. It took an outrageously long time to get them to process the documents i sent, but once that hurdle was cleared the registrar was faster at establishing my eligibility than predicted. Becoming certified was the last step in completing my application to start my doctoral program in January, which means this could really happen. i could still bail, but that is seeming increasingly less likely.

Ringing

working for the university has a very different feel than working in public education. it's very clear that this system is aware of its competition, and so they pay me to attend meetings. and so they invite my input to get something for their money. it was a real juxtaposition to go from the school department head meeting (no money, no perks, no nothing, and fuck you for asking) to the university meeting with all its goodies. this escape route looks promising.

the feeling of being in motion again

ken got a tattoo over the summer; this has people excited, the fact that the inflexible and humourless can also be permanently marked. and maybe it's partly the fact that he concedes that it hurt, as for the most part it has been unclear whether or not he is mortal.

i know that one of us, i’m not saying who, has got rocks in her head

N has won the Battle of Whine. (And with Government Employees Union on strike, wine is in perilously short supply.) There isnt value in debating these things with N because he sees things in a small way. His kids, his sport, his time, his convenience, his life. My bigger picture attempts at showing him the Long View just dont land anywhere. i have to save my energy for things i can impact. (Remind me of this often, please.) M encourages me to take a medical leave. Fake it 'til you make it, and that sort of comedy. i tell him i cant. i cant get down off my moral high horse to do the exact thing that makes me craziest about everyone else, harhar. (But truthfully, whats more is that i could very easily fake my way into being unable to leave my home and go to work. Its always hard.)

hallmarks of illness

there is this strange dichotomous feeling that pulls me in two directions. on the one hand i have the second job at the university ("faculty associate" sounds like such a grown up career) and the doctoral program application in process... and on the other hand, as summer winds down i just want to quit my job and do nothing but sit on the couch. i cant take a middle road; it's too much or it's nothing at all. *

If it kills me

i suppose it's not particularly surprising that missing someone is amplified when you decide not to be around them, even when that is, unquestionably, the right thing to do. it's human nature, right? that, or i am incredibly difficult. S is going camping for a few days and i am feeling that this will be a good time to finish the last of the Summer Declutter. i am feeling irritable with S today, which may or may not be reasonable. in any case, my irritation leads nowhere but to the vaccuum cleaner.

If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother

my parents are coming to visit soon. as ever, their impending arrival gives me energy to clean things we never clean. fix things that are broken. donate things. throw things away. throw things the fuck away. last night while i was sleeping, M sent me a text message asking me questions. my answer is no. no to everything. this makes me feel lighter. the lesson is that you don't have to wait to be asked first. you can exercise your no whenever you want to.

I wanted you to love me like you used to do.

vertigo keeps me on the edge of intoxication. without wine i can still spin madly across the sun. the process for admission to the doctoral program involves jumping a number of hoops, most of which i have completed because i am one of those people who just gets shit done. however, my process is stalled at the part where i need the second reference letter from another counsellor who is familiar with my work. that counsellor, unfortunately, is not the sort who gets shit done. he is the sort who will get to it eventually. i would like to kill him but then i wouldn't have a second reference. goodnight moon.

banners of sorrow mark the front steps of childhood homes

a few years ago i decided to start a doctoral degree and then i bailed. i think i might be on the cusp of deciding to do it for real, again. i have a phone meeting with an admissions advisor tomorrow morning. **
**
i shared with P that my interest in pursuing academia might be sincere. but it might also be whimsical bullshit, like my musings about how cool it would be if i could play the saw. he responded by sending me this video, which i love. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k34hnNesDK0 *
**

you shouldn’t have to sell your soul

It's ridiculous that i am weight training. i have trouble locating my hamstrings. i don't really know where to locate them because i hardly ever use them. Funny how certain kinds of exercise (Bikram yoga, jogging) feel natural like my body was meant for them, and other movements could not be more awkward. Like a side plank, what the fuck is that? Vertigo has decided i need to stay upright (for now), and my right knee dislikes being jarred. So i am weight training. "Middle age" is bullshit.

Speaking of mothers

m's autism charms me; the way she says mymotherisacunt devoid of venom, just matter of fact, because it's probably true. (we do all this work to take misogyny out of language, but there's still something deeply satisfying about calling your mother a cunt if she happens to be one. what can you do?) m scowls at me and asks me why i'm not a "real counsellor", because she would like to see me in the summer when i plan to be perpetually drunk. i tell her i don't know instead of telling her i like drinking more than i like working. *
*
lately i have been trying to sort out whether i do or do not enjoy thc/cbd. i seem to have some fears connected to high school misadventures. but i have nothing if i haven't got a willing spirit, so i will continue to do my reaearch. **
**

Fuck you CC

S makes fun of the way people disappear after they piss me off. Disappear doesn't mean that they go missing or that they turn up dismembered, floating through the bay. They go on leave. They get moved to new workplaces. I don't deny that I am connected - but only peripherally - to that kind of disappearance. Something I notice about much of the world is their complacency to do anything about it when they are legitimately harassed or when big injustices occur. It isn't that I go looking for fights, but I also fight back when I am stepped on. Pretty much without fail. I don't know why that is my default while others default to turtle position. It hasn't always been like this; but there came a time when I must have drawn a line. Yesterday I made a decision to report a colleague whose upcoming time theft plans will keep me at work overtime until the end of the year doing her job on top of my own. I don't have to report this. Reporting it won't get me back my time. But I reported it anyway, because I am sick and tired of working with idiots who seek ways out instead of ways through the things that are difficult. I wonder if I am collecting bad debt in doing this. But somehow it allows me some measure of peace to think I have punched back. I acknowledge my conflict of interest. And still hope that HR dismembers this slug and sends all the pieces, Luka Magnotta style, to various constituency offices and to the local elementary schools.

Daud and the Meatheads

having acquired the traditional may long weekend sunburn it is quite a bit easier to forgive my low step count for betraying my secret afternoon naps vertigo naps inertia insolence. i attended the AGM from my living room couch, marvelled how gavin's hair appeared to be drawing a deep breath - a sigh - his land acknowlegment a performative echo of the one before it and the one before that. (the only true thing he ever told me was that he won't wear a white shirt because he is the sort of man who tends to spill things.) from my living room couch i waded through danger and chaos almost as comfortable as if it weren't real. ken asked us to write down "What We Have Learned" because he has not learned that it is impolite to ask people such personal questions. he is hoping i will draw a line graph connecting curriculum with Core Competencies. i drop jam on my white shirt. i acknowledge that i am an uninvited settler. the room moves around me. i have learned to hold still, ken, draw a deep breath, and another. what have you learned?