I am not enjoying my new student teaching placement. I am drowning in guilt every minute I am at home that I am not researching or writing a paper (this is many, many minutes for a procrastinator like me). I am feeling like an incredible poor communicator to my professors and anyone else I approach even with the most banal chit chat. I feel waves of confusion or annoyance floating off of people as I plough my way through a book recommendation or input to class discussion. They look at me with puzzled expressions as if I am speaking in a strange dialect (am I? this is the midwest). I am making bumbling mistakes in communication over email that makes me think I need to go back to bed and start fresh next week. PMS? possibly. The good thing?
Without any prompting (prompting, what an annoying special ed teacher word--in this case it means long whiny complaints and requests for stupid things), Michael left me a message today while I was at work just to say he was thinking about me and how much he loved me. (do you hear irritating strains of Stevie Wonder? so sorry) When I got home from school around 1pm I was in such a foul mood I decided the best thing for it was to nap until work at 4pm. Michael came home at 3:30pm (thank goodness seeing as how I had set my alarm but failed to turn it on). He brought a package of mini Hershey bars, cheesy crackers, peanut butter crackers, a 12 pack of Coca-Cola and cranberry juice. What nice presents for me. Now I am home after work, I am going to make veggie fried rice. I have poured myself a glass of red. I am cooking the rice (yay rice cooker) I am heading to take a bath while the rice cooks and chills (a recipe recommendation for fried rice that I cannot find an explanation for), then I can relax, do stupid homework, eat chocolate which goes oh so well with my pinot noir (thank you Amy for introducing me to the yummy and cheap Pepperwood Grove), and tomorrow I can roll out of bed, put on any old clothes for school (jeans, sweats, I think anything goes at this place), grab a coke and some packages of crackers (yay, that will be breakfast) and start over again. Its all about the little things in life.
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1 comment:
Is Michael your dearest darling's real name?
Because Michael is MY dearest darling's name, too.
Cool!
Anyhoo, yup. Sounds like a Keeper. I would be jealous and hate you, but I've got a Keeper of my own, so I won't.
Don't worry about the other stuff. You're just having a bad time right now, compounded by PMS. It'll sort itself out, trust me.
*Hugs* x
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