ok it's been a few extra "tomorrows." and i don't really have time now, either.
the thing is, nothing happens to me. and i don't just mean nothing worth writing about; my days are so routine that i really do just need to write about it once. i wake up, i go to work, i teach children (this varies by what i teach them and how they behave, but it's not really that different one day to the next), i come home, i make dinner, i watch tv or read a book until i fall asleep. there, that's the diary entry that i've been putting off for a month.
and there were brief interludes of other things. i got walking pneumonia, there was a huge blow-up at work, i went to a friend's wedding.
maybe i just need to get away somewhere for a few days. anyone want to take in a refugee from the 9-5 real world? preferably someone with a little cabin in the woods, so i can write myself sane again. i think somewhere along the line, i used to have a life. right?
i put in a resume last night over email for an editorial assistant position at a magazine. i think it might be the same position i applied for before i started teaching the rugrats. maybe this time they'll decide that their magazine just can't live without my verbal prowess. or else i'll have to start harrassing all the publishers in the area. i have a list, you know.
there are things i need to talk about soon. like how in less than a month i'll be turning 25, and that's just one big case of ambivalence right there. and about how i read prozac nation and almost went crazy all over again. and the wedding, of course. everyone loves a wedding story. but for now, it's time for a shower and another day of what's either the worst job i've ever loved, or the best job i've ever hated.
rubber duckie, you're the one... -beatpoetgrrl
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