Week home at my parents dog sitting.
The principal feeling I have lately is that I have become mush - like no original ideas, no nothing.
As I contemplate if I am in the right relationship, this fear that I will not find a suitable partner because I'm not interesting is paralysing.
I am left to fantasize possible outcomes of my life.
If I go through a break up, I know that I will freak out and need to jump into something else and fast. Maybe all my dreaming of living in Quebec will happen then. Like I will throw myself to the wolves.
The thought of any of that happening seems so out there. Like my apartment is so fixed, pots and pans and papers everywhere held in one place. The though of packing all of it up? But breaking up and having him leave is equally weird. Like it's like the whole valley will remind me of us.
Or
Maybe I should just shut the fuck up?
A week ago, I got too drunk with strangers at a bar, drove home and fell into bed and was half crying saying to remy "c'est toi que je veux". being out there in the jungle made me remember that.
But is that reticence to join the jungle a reason for staying?
Anyway.
Lately I am thinking that anything needs to come out of you. Like what you receive from the world you need to digest and produce some response to it. That is uniquely you. And then, it's not wrong or right, and then you can't be accused of being uninteresting. Because something is coming out of you. The juices seem frozen for me, like I just absorb and absorb. And when I sit down to produce I just draw the same outline of a cat and nothing else comes. Remember when I made myself laugh so much? When I had Matt c. as my muse even though he ignored me I was the funniest gal. And it was all right, it was all me. Now part of this crisis is how remy just makes dick and fart jokes. Like, he makes a parody of someone making dick and fart jokes. But really the person making the joke is him.
Well that is something.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
little distracted
cuz I’m listening to Nancy huston talk about her latest novel on radio canada.
looking for a good time to write here, when I’m not numbly parousing facebook for signs of life.
I should recognize that life is here for me if I want it.
I”ll try to give you a run down of news and hopes and thoughts.
Today had to say “no” after much thought to a summer camp job - overnight and french-only. for 5 weeks. for $2000. I had to think about how badly I needed the money. and I thought not that badly.
A part of me wondered though what would single-tami do? Probably yes? probably. But still, there I would be teaching teenagers how to play badminton in french. oh lala. so I made a hard phone call to my restaurant from last summer. even though serving would be much more lucrative. Maybe I should go talk to Albert at Chez Albert.
I wonder when I will stop with this whole whole-applying-for-jobs-I-don’t-want era will end. Please assure me that the live-in thing would drive me crazy. Going from one miserable time-sucking job to another, with not even one day of gap! Non merci.
This constant bricks-in-the-fire feeling, as stressed as I feel sometimes, I must recognize that that is where LIFE is. the constant every day flow of should I? shouldn’t I? That is life, and I can say that probably because I know what the opposite is. Well, the whole watching-the-wire for weeks straight without talking to anyone. That doesn’t quite get me anywhere, even though it’s alluring in its own way.
The most wonderful feeling of today and yesterday = when I first go under the covers and for a sec I put the covers over my head. That feeling of “I don’t exist” I find so freeing. Like, no one will find me under here. Time stands still and obligations are so adult. Especially when my obligations are like putting grades into a computer and making sure no one is cheating on a verb quiz.
bringing us to my next topic. Teaching. The wild world of public education. Now is the time of year where I am at once appreciating them (they all have good hearts underneath the teenage angst/attitude/jockiness) and at the same time getting depressed seeing how little of French 3 they have retained. I feel that so many words spoken by a teacher are a complete waste of words, speech, breath. Students just want to know what to cram into their minds 5 minutes before the test. It is so sad. But such a huge task to rectify that attitude towards learning. They are taught “you can do anything, be anything you want to be, just get an education” and what happens is students want to work the least amount possible to achieve this. Or, the concept of “grading” is so ingrained in them that they can’t see the point of learning in itself, without the concept of grades/competition. I have a student who says he wants to go to medical school who I have caught writing verb conjugations on his desk before the test. Yeah. Pretty pathetic. He like leans down as if he is slouching. I say “Walter, sit up straight” and you can see the terror/defensiveness in his face so clearly. Yet our world says to him “Reach for the stars”.
Cue some bitter-jaded arts school alumni thoughts. You know, the classic Bard graduate now teaching in a miserable blue-collar school system, still bragging about her glory college days where I went to parties with child actress Gaby Hoffman, Woody Allen’s son, and got Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s autograph. and now drinking water out of a “Bard” nalgene bottle. But it’s not all about bitterness. It’s just a complex world. Like think of how different my life could be if I had majored in biology, for example. Not saying I wanted to. But it’s just a funny thing. I guess what I’m saying is like, I have the awareness of the contradiction of so many things. And the naivete and preconceptions of youth confronting me every day. It is impossible to imagine what life is really like at age 16. And that, we must embrace as part of the cycle of life, even if it hurts.
Like my students must look at me, and wonder why the hell I am not married and pregnant yet. God I am so fucking old, ‘can you even imagine her having sex???’ OMG Ew. Like any witty comment I make is just totally unappreciated in this company, and all my students are concerned with is how they can cheat without me catching them.
It is seriously miserable. I can outright acknowledge this because it is so almost over.
I find myself looking at jobs I am unqualified for, and wanting so badly to apply. Well, people do it. I guess a part of me wants to have a REAL JOB once and for fricking all. You know, one where I can communicate with adults. How do I dress for that? How do I do my hair + speak? I seriously need guidance. I found one awesome thing in … Boston… well it is like managing the education department at the French cultural center. Basically coordinating lots of outreach programs in schools and after school stuff. I have never, um, managed before though. Well unless you count managing a group of hormoney giggling rude teens and if you want to count their parents as clients. I don’t know, I think that might be fun. But I have to blow myself up in the cover letter.
But I took a miserable trip to Cambridge this weekend. That driving, that crudeness of the city streets, scares me so much. I came back with a renewed love for my home in Western Mass. Like, sometimes I say how it’s so boring and cold. but it is also great. Like nightlife in summer in northampton is the absolute best. Dirty truth - though beers are expensive - makes it worth it by a sweet red ambiance and cute hipster guys (caution, some massholes still). Like it can get repetitive. But there is of course something cool about seeing the same people over + over again. And ducking if one is an enemy/frenemy.
and again, I wonder if I have found Mr. Good Enough. Big questions about the nature of finding that life-long partner. I mostly know that remy will be a great dad. but boy, we can really get on each others nerves. Including a tense pull-over on Rt. 2 on the way back from Boston arguing over how I want him to drive just when my co-pilot is deciding to take a nap. Our fights are so full of pride from both of us. He treats it all like a deposition. “Did you did you not say that…” “Admit it, you were pissed when…” so much attributing traits and qualities to me. Above all he wants me to say that he is right. Is this folllowing a typical couple manual?
Me I can be brutal. But he brings me there. I even throw out the “Well fuck you”s. I get going on my high horse and I am not coming off so he can fuck off. No quotations are coming to mind. Just his constant level of stress and high-strungedness. He cannot just relax. he shoulders get so tense he is so full of negativity. He says he uses negativity constructively, in a way to change his life. I am not so sure.
But I can’t really imagine not having problems in a relationship. like, I don’t know if this is par for the course. I am trying to focus on the happy moments… mostly around cuddling our cats and walking around arm-in-arm, him giving a dirty look to any guy who checks me out. I kind of like those primal showdowns.
looking for a good time to write here, when I’m not numbly parousing facebook for signs of life.
I should recognize that life is here for me if I want it.
I”ll try to give you a run down of news and hopes and thoughts.
Today had to say “no” after much thought to a summer camp job - overnight and french-only. for 5 weeks. for $2000. I had to think about how badly I needed the money. and I thought not that badly.
A part of me wondered though what would single-tami do? Probably yes? probably. But still, there I would be teaching teenagers how to play badminton in french. oh lala. so I made a hard phone call to my restaurant from last summer. even though serving would be much more lucrative. Maybe I should go talk to Albert at Chez Albert.
I wonder when I will stop with this whole whole-applying-for-jobs-I-don’t-want era will end. Please assure me that the live-in thing would drive me crazy. Going from one miserable time-sucking job to another, with not even one day of gap! Non merci.
This constant bricks-in-the-fire feeling, as stressed as I feel sometimes, I must recognize that that is where LIFE is. the constant every day flow of should I? shouldn’t I? That is life, and I can say that probably because I know what the opposite is. Well, the whole watching-the-wire for weeks straight without talking to anyone. That doesn’t quite get me anywhere, even though it’s alluring in its own way.
The most wonderful feeling of today and yesterday = when I first go under the covers and for a sec I put the covers over my head. That feeling of “I don’t exist” I find so freeing. Like, no one will find me under here. Time stands still and obligations are so adult. Especially when my obligations are like putting grades into a computer and making sure no one is cheating on a verb quiz.
bringing us to my next topic. Teaching. The wild world of public education. Now is the time of year where I am at once appreciating them (they all have good hearts underneath the teenage angst/attitude/jockiness) and at the same time getting depressed seeing how little of French 3 they have retained. I feel that so many words spoken by a teacher are a complete waste of words, speech, breath. Students just want to know what to cram into their minds 5 minutes before the test. It is so sad. But such a huge task to rectify that attitude towards learning. They are taught “you can do anything, be anything you want to be, just get an education” and what happens is students want to work the least amount possible to achieve this. Or, the concept of “grading” is so ingrained in them that they can’t see the point of learning in itself, without the concept of grades/competition. I have a student who says he wants to go to medical school who I have caught writing verb conjugations on his desk before the test. Yeah. Pretty pathetic. He like leans down as if he is slouching. I say “Walter, sit up straight” and you can see the terror/defensiveness in his face so clearly. Yet our world says to him “Reach for the stars”.
Cue some bitter-jaded arts school alumni thoughts. You know, the classic Bard graduate now teaching in a miserable blue-collar school system, still bragging about her glory college days where I went to parties with child actress Gaby Hoffman, Woody Allen’s son, and got Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s autograph. and now drinking water out of a “Bard” nalgene bottle. But it’s not all about bitterness. It’s just a complex world. Like think of how different my life could be if I had majored in biology, for example. Not saying I wanted to. But it’s just a funny thing. I guess what I’m saying is like, I have the awareness of the contradiction of so many things. And the naivete and preconceptions of youth confronting me every day. It is impossible to imagine what life is really like at age 16. And that, we must embrace as part of the cycle of life, even if it hurts.
Like my students must look at me, and wonder why the hell I am not married and pregnant yet. God I am so fucking old, ‘can you even imagine her having sex???’ OMG Ew. Like any witty comment I make is just totally unappreciated in this company, and all my students are concerned with is how they can cheat without me catching them.
It is seriously miserable. I can outright acknowledge this because it is so almost over.
I find myself looking at jobs I am unqualified for, and wanting so badly to apply. Well, people do it. I guess a part of me wants to have a REAL JOB once and for fricking all. You know, one where I can communicate with adults. How do I dress for that? How do I do my hair + speak? I seriously need guidance. I found one awesome thing in … Boston… well it is like managing the education department at the French cultural center. Basically coordinating lots of outreach programs in schools and after school stuff. I have never, um, managed before though. Well unless you count managing a group of hormoney giggling rude teens and if you want to count their parents as clients. I don’t know, I think that might be fun. But I have to blow myself up in the cover letter.
But I took a miserable trip to Cambridge this weekend. That driving, that crudeness of the city streets, scares me so much. I came back with a renewed love for my home in Western Mass. Like, sometimes I say how it’s so boring and cold. but it is also great. Like nightlife in summer in northampton is the absolute best. Dirty truth - though beers are expensive - makes it worth it by a sweet red ambiance and cute hipster guys (caution, some massholes still). Like it can get repetitive. But there is of course something cool about seeing the same people over + over again. And ducking if one is an enemy/frenemy.
and again, I wonder if I have found Mr. Good Enough. Big questions about the nature of finding that life-long partner. I mostly know that remy will be a great dad. but boy, we can really get on each others nerves. Including a tense pull-over on Rt. 2 on the way back from Boston arguing over how I want him to drive just when my co-pilot is deciding to take a nap. Our fights are so full of pride from both of us. He treats it all like a deposition. “Did you did you not say that…” “Admit it, you were pissed when…” so much attributing traits and qualities to me. Above all he wants me to say that he is right. Is this folllowing a typical couple manual?
Me I can be brutal. But he brings me there. I even throw out the “Well fuck you”s. I get going on my high horse and I am not coming off so he can fuck off. No quotations are coming to mind. Just his constant level of stress and high-strungedness. He cannot just relax. he shoulders get so tense he is so full of negativity. He says he uses negativity constructively, in a way to change his life. I am not so sure.
But I can’t really imagine not having problems in a relationship. like, I don’t know if this is par for the course. I am trying to focus on the happy moments… mostly around cuddling our cats and walking around arm-in-arm, him giving a dirty look to any guy who checks me out. I kind of like those primal showdowns.
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