mad_maudlin (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} mad_maudlin) wrote,@ 2008-01-11 15:22:00 |
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673
Hyperrealistic dreams about all-to-plausible events are not the way to start your day. I've felt out of kilter all day, like Schrodinger's cat, because I have to keep reminding myself that something didn't actually happen and so I don't need to feel guilty about it. This happens to me from time to time: I have a dream so real I can't quite convince myself it wasn't. Usually it's just something like dreaming about waking up before I actually wake up, but this time it was…well, I don't want to dwell on it, but it was unpleasant. And now I'm grumpy and worried and there's no way to prove the cat's alive until at least Sunday, if not sooner. Insert gnashing of teeth here.
Speaking of cats, Musik has taken to pulling some disappearing acts in my room—either getting under the bed or, this morning, inside my wardrobe when I leave the door open. I knew he liked to climb inside the wardrobe, because he's carried my socks all over the flat, but I didn't realized he was sleeping in there.
Good things: managed to use the internet this morning, and had class—just not the one I wrote the lesson plan for. ::heddesk:: It's okay, I pulled something out of my ass and the break means I don't have to assign homework. It's weird, but right now I'm feeling kind of burnt out on everything but teaching—writing lesson plans still sucks, but I like being in front of the class, which is kind of a revelation for me. (I've long assumed my biggest problem with teaching would be not throwing blunt objects at students who annoyed me.) Maybe it's just that when I'm teacher I feel like I'm in control of the situation, and when I'm busy enough I don't have time to be lonely, frustrated, or crazy. My mom sent me some rambly emails about how lonely and bored she is, and I can't help but sympathize. If I don't snap during this break and start eating the wallpaper, it may be a miracle.
Positive thoughts, though. Must practice positive self-talk. I finally finished the damn black sweater—well, unless I decide to add pockets. But it is absolutely true that buttonholes are bastards, bastards to make and then bastards to fix when you realize they're too big.
And in the email I found out the dates for our IST—March 25-27. So that's something to look forward to, Almaty in March. I might get to see leaves!
A mine collapsed in a village not far from here and killed seven people. As of right now, according to Valya, twenty are still missing. Most of the men in this area are either miners or employed by the mines in some capacity, and I can't help but wonder if one of my students has just lost a dad/uncle/brother/cousin/someone.
Screw this, I'm going to bed. Subconscious, you pull any more of that shit and I will cut you.
Hyperrealistic dreams about all-to-plausible events are not the way to start your day. I've felt out of kilter all day, like Schrodinger's cat, because I have to keep reminding myself that something didn't actually happen and so I don't need to feel guilty about it. This happens to me from time to time: I have a dream so real I can't quite convince myself it wasn't. Usually it's just something like dreaming about waking up before I actually wake up, but this time it was…well, I don't want to dwell on it, but it was unpleasant. And now I'm grumpy and worried and there's no way to prove the cat's alive until at least Sunday, if not sooner. Insert gnashing of teeth here.
Speaking of cats, Musik has taken to pulling some disappearing acts in my room—either getting under the bed or, this morning, inside my wardrobe when I leave the door open. I knew he liked to climb inside the wardrobe, because he's carried my socks all over the flat, but I didn't realized he was sleeping in there.
Good things: managed to use the internet this morning, and had class—just not the one I wrote the lesson plan for. ::heddesk:: It's okay, I pulled something out of my ass and the break means I don't have to assign homework. It's weird, but right now I'm feeling kind of burnt out on everything but teaching—writing lesson plans still sucks, but I like being in front of the class, which is kind of a revelation for me. (I've long assumed my biggest problem with teaching would be not throwing blunt objects at students who annoyed me.) Maybe it's just that when I'm teacher I feel like I'm in control of the situation, and when I'm busy enough I don't have time to be lonely, frustrated, or crazy. My mom sent me some rambly emails about how lonely and bored she is, and I can't help but sympathize. If I don't snap during this break and start eating the wallpaper, it may be a miracle.
Positive thoughts, though. Must practice positive self-talk. I finally finished the damn black sweater—well, unless I decide to add pockets. But it is absolutely true that buttonholes are bastards, bastards to make and then bastards to fix when you realize they're too big.
And in the email I found out the dates for our IST—March 25-27. So that's something to look forward to, Almaty in March. I might get to see leaves!
A mine collapsed in a village not far from here and killed seven people. As of right now, according to Valya, twenty are still missing. Most of the men in this area are either miners or employed by the mines in some capacity, and I can't help but wonder if one of my students has just lost a dad/uncle/brother/cousin/someone.
Screw this, I'm going to bed. Subconscious, you pull any more of that shit and I will cut you.