And so begins the first day of the rest of my life! The last lecture has been given, the last seminar sat, though of course the term papers are still streaming in alongside an avalanche of doctor's notes and descriptions of melting computers. The movie equivalent of my semester would be this:
That might be a slight exaggeration but also I'm not looking to shake hands with anybody anytime soon. I can tell you the exact week of instruction that I started to drink my own piss, if you want.
Okay, it wasn't that bad but I'm very happy to have it all behind me and am looking forward to pulling my head out of my own ass sometime soon. I will return phonecalls! I will send out Christmas cards (maybe)! I will clean and cook and return emails and update blogs and embrace winter and not grimace every time I see a fb update by my sister about love and harmony and being one with the world. Instead I will wish her well and be proud of her accomplishments. I will be thankful for the weekly emails from my former Grade 5 teacher wherein she gives me advice on how to teach (make sure you have your grading done before you go home each day!, be sure to keep Saturday free so you can do things for yourself!) and tells me about her cross-stitching projects and her love of history and King Arthur.
re: the Gr. 5 teacher. It has gotten to the point in our correspondence where it has become apparent that she is not going away. This means that we should probably have a Coming Out Moment sometime soon and this will either 1) ensure that she DOES go away which might not be a bad thing though it will make me feel crappy if it goes that way or 2) mean that this is some kind of signal to her that we can Talk About It in levels of detail that would be wayyyy TMI if it were a straight person and then we can be BFFs forever (do not want). The third path, the path where it is just another piece of information in a list of other things about me and we can note it and move on seems unlikely in this case though I would like to state for the record that this is my favorite way. If you don't have to expend any mental energy deciding whether or not to talk about your partner with students/colleagues/Grade 5 teachers/highschool fucktards on facebook/etc, then congratulations to you. I'm not quite there yet. I know that this Coming Out isn't necessarily a straight-gay thing and pertains to anyone not in The Usual kind of relationship (ie/ uncontroversially married to someone of similar age, skin color, religion, background, whatever as you) so, it's kind of a widespread phenomenon but again - mental energy, folks. Like an uninsulated window in the winter time, this is a source of mental energy leakage.
Monty's back! In early November, E and I hatched a plan to both drive to Syracuse (she in a rental car w/ Montoya coming up from Balto, me in my trusty Honda from the 'twa), meet at a hotel near the airport within a certain time window, she ditch the rental, we all pile into the Honda to drive back to the 'twa, enjoy US Thanksgiving and E's birthday for a few days, then she fly back to Balto, leaving the Monster to brave the Ottawa winter with me and count the days until E's return for full-on Winter break (she'll be here for almost 6 weeks!). Here's what's amazing: the ridiculously elaborate plan actually worked!!! We both actually arrived in Syracuse at about the same time, after hours and hours of driving; we were NOT stopped at the border to further explain why I had only left Canada for a few hours; Monty's transnational existence continues unquestioned by authorities (mostly, they did ask if he was Canadian, which is an odd question, and we lied and said yes because the truth is too long a story); and everything went off without a hitch!!! It was a thanksgiving miracle.
Montoya seems to be adjusting to his new life in the 'twa very well. Disasters include December 1 when he pulled a bag of flour off the kitchen shelves, ate a bunch of it (really? that's the level of desperation you were at, little dog? have some pride), got thirsty, had a big drink, inadvertently made a flour paste with his paws and snout, and tracked paste-y, floury footprints around my apartment, complete with one perfect dog-print on the foot of my bed like a CSI clip. Then he had a nap. Thankfully he waited until I had put him outside before having the 'rhea all over the backyard. So business as usual with the Monster: he got yelled at and felt bad for a while, but I don't know if he really understands why. I am *determined* not to leave within his sphere of activity the fantastic advent calendar E brought me. Determined! Once everything interesting in the house has been placed above a 2.5 foot height restriction, he and I will lapse into our casual, cozy existence as before.
E will be back in 12 days!!!
My fourth grade teacher friended me on facebook and has since taken to posting things like how sensible she finds Arizona's new anti-immigration laws. I'm finding it difficult to refrain from making nasty, hurtful comments to old ladies who are convinced they're not racists and aren't going to change their minds about anything no matter what I say, with the result that all I do is wander around muttering to myself. I think some of the stress you may be feeling is that people From the Past should stay in the past. Or maybe it's the Unusual Relationship, what do I know?
ReplyDeleteI think J hit the nail on the head re: the past staying in the past. I know I'm not talking about the same level of mental exhaustion as you experience over coming out to people, but I really get wound up about the IDEA of retracing my steps with people from high school or earlier.
ReplyDeleteAs for Monty--wow. That dog knows how to produce a kerfuffle, doesn't he? My dog is usually really good (unless there is a phone book or a pair of fine leather shoes around), but when she does something that upsets us, as soon as we raise our voices, she rolls over and evacuates her bladder. I really never want to smell my house with someone else's nose.