I'm so tired.
Not like normal end-of-day tired, but like, will-I-make-it-to-my-bed-with-my-teeth-brushed kind of tired. Will-I-have-the-energy-to-change-into-pajamas kind of tired. Am-I-getting-sick kind of tired.
I am. As much as I hate to admit it, I know I am.
I didn't feel great coming home from work on Friday, or even on the way to work that morning, but I just assumed it was two-weeks-into-school exhaustion, and that with some extended sleep, I'd feel fine on the other side of Sunday.
Of course, I didn't end up getting as much sleep as I intended. Between a date on Friday and volleyball on Saturday morning and celebrating the birth of my friend Mick on Saturday night and church and things on Sunday, I got a pretty average amount of sleep across the duration of the weekend.
Which is probably why I'm coughing on my couch and trying to keep my now heavy-lidded eyes from shutting entirely before I finish this post.
I guess I shouldn't really complain. If you put me back at Friday evening, I'd do it all over again. I'd still go on that date till early in the morning and play volleyball in summer heat and sing karaoke in Kenner and have lunch on Banks street and go to sleep Sunday night with a smile because it was one of the best weekends--in a string of nice weekends--that I've had this summer.
Enough of that for now. I've filled my Monday writing requirement, and you'd had your fair share of vague and insubstantial run-on sentences. I'm headed to bed, and I hope I get better soon, but I'll be dreaming of this weekend. And wishing for more weekends like it to come.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Haze
It feels somehow fitting that after surviving a day that felt like it was running away with me, I should find myself inhaling smoke as I grasp at the alarm buzzing at the top of my twelve-foot ceiling.
I just wanted some grilled chicken, but nothing's quite that easy today. Two semi-cooked breasts later, there's a window open, a ladder leading up to the ceiling, a box fan on high, an alarm on the ground, and a cat I've never seen before peeking through the screen door to see what all the commotion is about.
So much commotion, cat. So much commotion.
Today, I spent eleven hours at work. It's week two, and school is kicking my butt. Despite having taught this subject in some form for the last eight years, I've still worked until almost six every day this week. I'm trying to convince myself that it's just beginning of the year craziness, but honestly, I just need to be okay with pretty good and go home earlier.
Luckily, I've got things outside work to keep me busy and lighten the mood.
There's writing. (It's Thursday! I'm writing! #selfdiscipline!)
There's Gossip Girl. (2007 slide phones. That's all I'm saying.)
There's Fitz. (The mammal of mass destruction who occasionally nips at me because I'm not petting the right section of his back.)
There's the ever-exhausting search for legitimate male companionship. (Five dates with four guys in six days. Five dates with one guy in six weeks. Two dates this weekend with two different guys. And a pie pan that I can't for the life of me get back.)
And there's choir and hanging out with friends and prayer time in the morning and reading in the evening and scooping watermelon with a spoon and laundry and errands and filling my house with smoke all for a little grilled chicken.
Every August is a run for my money. But not to worry, every month comes to an end.
And there's a payday waiting at the finish line.
I just wanted some grilled chicken, but nothing's quite that easy today. Two semi-cooked breasts later, there's a window open, a ladder leading up to the ceiling, a box fan on high, an alarm on the ground, and a cat I've never seen before peeking through the screen door to see what all the commotion is about.
So much commotion, cat. So much commotion.
Today, I spent eleven hours at work. It's week two, and school is kicking my butt. Despite having taught this subject in some form for the last eight years, I've still worked until almost six every day this week. I'm trying to convince myself that it's just beginning of the year craziness, but honestly, I just need to be okay with pretty good and go home earlier.
Luckily, I've got things outside work to keep me busy and lighten the mood.
There's writing. (It's Thursday! I'm writing! #selfdiscipline!)
There's Gossip Girl. (2007 slide phones. That's all I'm saying.)
There's Fitz. (The mammal of mass destruction who occasionally nips at me because I'm not petting the right section of his back.)
There's the ever-exhausting search for legitimate male companionship. (Five dates with four guys in six days. Five dates with one guy in six weeks. Two dates this weekend with two different guys. And a pie pan that I can't for the life of me get back.)
And there's choir and hanging out with friends and prayer time in the morning and reading in the evening and scooping watermelon with a spoon and laundry and errands and filling my house with smoke all for a little grilled chicken.
Every August is a run for my money. But not to worry, every month comes to an end.
And there's a payday waiting at the finish line.
Monday, August 22, 2016
August
So, time for a little truth. I've been avoiding writing this month. It's not that I don't like writing, or that I don't want to write. I just...haven't really felt like it. (Which is also why I've had clean laundry lying wrinkled in a basket for the last week and a half. I don't feel like much of anything.) I keep telling myself that I'll get to it when I get to it, or that I'll make a writing schedule when my routine finally takes on a normal rhythm, but let's be real. I'm just making excuses. Pure and simple procrastination. With a healthy dose of tired and apathetic thrown in.
I'm determined to hop back on the bandwagon, though, starting today, and to stay committed, I'll share my plan with you: Mondays and Thursdays. My goal is to write on Mondays and Thursdays. Hopefully that includes revising my novel, but...well...baby steps.
Today was a rough day. The kids were wonderful, my coworkers were delightful, classes ran smoothly, and I got a few things done faster than expected. And yet, a select few things didn't go so well, and it's all I can really think about.
This afternoon, as my phone alarm went off and I heard people moving in the hallway, I said to myself, "Everyone else is early. Why is everyone else so early?" And then I taught for five more minutes.
And if it wasn't bad enough that I'd made 30+ students late to their exploratory classes and deprived fellow teachers of precious planning time, I then managed to DO IT AGAIN less than two hours later. This time, sitting in a stiff wooden chair in the library, watching 5-10 indecisive children scan bookshelves for something to read this week. I looked at my watch and said "We've got time. Let them scan." We left the library at 3:15. 3:15 is, of course, also the time students are supposed to head to carpool. We hadn't even packed up yet.
60 children were late for dismissal as a result. I was late to dismissal as a result. Other teachers were late to dismissal as a result.
And the only thing I hate more than lateness is inconveniencing other people.
(Which is saying a lot because I really hate lateness. Ask the guy who had me sitting at a bar by myself for thirty minutes a week and a half ago.)
To compound the issue, I ended the day with a migraine, which--for those who have never experienced one--feels like your brain is swelling up against your skull and causes all light, sound, and pretty much everything to be painful while you wander the poorly-labeled aisles of a run down Rite Aid on Canal Street desperately searching for Excedrin and hoping not to throw up on the sort-of clean floor glaring back up at you.
I am now home and medicated and reading a funny chain of email responses from my immediate family that involves uniforms, cucumbers, and a photo of my youngest niece with a very confused expression on her face. Things are already looking up.
August tends to be a pretty tough month in general. My body has a hard time readjusting to early wake-ups and the physical wear and tear associated with standing and talking all day, while my bank account has a hard time reconciling back-to-school purchases and car insurance payments with the fact that I haven't been paid in two months.
Which is why I'm downing "flavor blasted" goldfish my mom gave me (gross) and paying my volleyball coach with whatever dollar bills I can find around the house.
It's been a tough month for the state, too. Heat is high, crime is high, tensions are high, and last week, unprecedented rainfall devastated the homes of hundreds of thousands of people in parishes along the southern section of our state. To give you a sense of how bad the latter is, consider these numbers:
Average rainfall in Louisiana in August: 6.1 inches
Average yearly rainfall in Louisiana: 62.45 inches
Rainfall in select parishes last week: 20-30 inches
Some parishes got half a year's rainfall in 72 hours.
On top of that, many of these parishes also flooded in the spring, thanks to double-digit rainfall in March.
Here in New Orleans, it rains every day, but fractions of an inch at a time. Honestly, it feels weird to be spared. It feels weird not to be the ones in need, but instead to be the ones gutting other people's houses and sending supplies to other people's homes. It's humbling, really.
And it makes complaining about a few mistimed transitions feel hollow. Who am I to fret about late carpool, when there are people who lost everything just an hour away? When there are people crossing oceans and rivers and seas and continents to avoid war? When there are people enduring traumas every day in the places that they live.
A little self-compassion is in order. A little thoughtfulness about how to help. And a whole lot of prayers.
***
If you're interested in helping out families in our state, here's a great resource to find the best way to donate your time, money, or talents:
Help Louisiana Flood Victims
I'm determined to hop back on the bandwagon, though, starting today, and to stay committed, I'll share my plan with you: Mondays and Thursdays. My goal is to write on Mondays and Thursdays. Hopefully that includes revising my novel, but...well...baby steps.
Today was a rough day. The kids were wonderful, my coworkers were delightful, classes ran smoothly, and I got a few things done faster than expected. And yet, a select few things didn't go so well, and it's all I can really think about.
This afternoon, as my phone alarm went off and I heard people moving in the hallway, I said to myself, "Everyone else is early. Why is everyone else so early?" And then I taught for five more minutes.
And if it wasn't bad enough that I'd made 30+ students late to their exploratory classes and deprived fellow teachers of precious planning time, I then managed to DO IT AGAIN less than two hours later. This time, sitting in a stiff wooden chair in the library, watching 5-10 indecisive children scan bookshelves for something to read this week. I looked at my watch and said "We've got time. Let them scan." We left the library at 3:15. 3:15 is, of course, also the time students are supposed to head to carpool. We hadn't even packed up yet.
60 children were late for dismissal as a result. I was late to dismissal as a result. Other teachers were late to dismissal as a result.
And the only thing I hate more than lateness is inconveniencing other people.
(Which is saying a lot because I really hate lateness. Ask the guy who had me sitting at a bar by myself for thirty minutes a week and a half ago.)
To compound the issue, I ended the day with a migraine, which--for those who have never experienced one--feels like your brain is swelling up against your skull and causes all light, sound, and pretty much everything to be painful while you wander the poorly-labeled aisles of a run down Rite Aid on Canal Street desperately searching for Excedrin and hoping not to throw up on the sort-of clean floor glaring back up at you.
I am now home and medicated and reading a funny chain of email responses from my immediate family that involves uniforms, cucumbers, and a photo of my youngest niece with a very confused expression on her face. Things are already looking up.
August tends to be a pretty tough month in general. My body has a hard time readjusting to early wake-ups and the physical wear and tear associated with standing and talking all day, while my bank account has a hard time reconciling back-to-school purchases and car insurance payments with the fact that I haven't been paid in two months.
Which is why I'm downing "flavor blasted" goldfish my mom gave me (gross) and paying my volleyball coach with whatever dollar bills I can find around the house.
It's been a tough month for the state, too. Heat is high, crime is high, tensions are high, and last week, unprecedented rainfall devastated the homes of hundreds of thousands of people in parishes along the southern section of our state. To give you a sense of how bad the latter is, consider these numbers:
Average rainfall in Louisiana in August: 6.1 inches
Average yearly rainfall in Louisiana: 62.45 inches
Rainfall in select parishes last week: 20-30 inches
Some parishes got half a year's rainfall in 72 hours.
On top of that, many of these parishes also flooded in the spring, thanks to double-digit rainfall in March.
Here in New Orleans, it rains every day, but fractions of an inch at a time. Honestly, it feels weird to be spared. It feels weird not to be the ones in need, but instead to be the ones gutting other people's houses and sending supplies to other people's homes. It's humbling, really.
And it makes complaining about a few mistimed transitions feel hollow. Who am I to fret about late carpool, when there are people who lost everything just an hour away? When there are people crossing oceans and rivers and seas and continents to avoid war? When there are people enduring traumas every day in the places that they live.
A little self-compassion is in order. A little thoughtfulness about how to help. And a whole lot of prayers.
***
If you're interested in helping out families in our state, here's a great resource to find the best way to donate your time, money, or talents:
Help Louisiana Flood Victims
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