Some days I'm paranoid, insecure, and sweaty. And I accidentally ignore colleagues because, oh yeah, I'm self-absorbed.
I can't wait to find my rhythm again; it successfully eluded me this week.(As if it has consciousness and did it on purpose -- did I mention paranoid?)
Tomorrow is a new day with just one class to teach. I was surprised that having four today wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. I have a new mantra for this semester: It's less work than high school. Those of you who teach high school or elementary, my hat is eternally off to you. I did it for two years, many moons ago, and it cured me of my "I'm going to change the world one high school student at a time!" psychosis. I truly believe teaching of all levels is a calling, especially those of you in the middle school trenches.
I wrote a scene for the novel in the doctor's office the other day. It's completely out of order, but it was the thing I wanted to write. There's something luxurious about this stage, pre-revision and plot meticulating (it can be a word just this once, right?). I'm getting to know my characters, and so far they are people I'd hang out with, given the chance. Even the, no, especially the neurotic/bipolar Stella.