Saturday night contemplations of a 37 year old

This time next week, I’ll be in Ottawa at the end of the first of two days at ComicCon, making sure all 17 of my charges are safely on the bus or back at our accommodations. And, starting Monday, my husband is taking a one-week course in being a security guard, with the hopes of getting a job at one of the gold mines in the area. It’s a good thing, but adds a little to the stress. Because of these two things, I made the executive decision to not take the kids to see Avengers: Age of Ultron today. Being responsible to save money sucks.

In the non-suckery category, though: today, I auditioned for a part in Shakespeare in the Park, and damn, it felt good to be performing again. Performing just for me (and the director and another cast member). Played the French horn for them, too. One more time: damn, it felt good. And I sat outside for a little while with my lovely bearded dragon, while the dog ran around and Bridget stomped with bare feet in the mud under her swing set. Tomorrow, if the weather is nice, I’ll want to be outside cleaning up the yard and my gardens, but I also have Markbook / progress reports due on Monday so I must make time for that. 11209644_829211437160582_1484418885983664743_n

Referee training for my son didn’t happen, sadly. His session in New Liskeard was canceled and we weren’t able to get him into the other one in Timmins. Thing is, we already have so much going on, I’m really not that upset. Neither is he. Of course, when he does referee games, he gets paid for them, so if he wants to earn spending money on his own this summer, he’ll have to find another job.

Was disturbed by an incident I’ve never experienced before, at the grocery store today. A total stranger told me to f*#k off, called me a bitch, and told me I wasn’t sorry when I slipped around her with my basket of food, excusing myself. Then, she threatened to punch me out when we were both at neighbouring tills. I was totally shocked, didn’t know what do to or say, so I just stared at her and walked away, shaking my head. When I went back later to get supper things (and I was scared to go back in — I understand greater now how a traumatic event might affect someone’s perception of a place, even though mine was less than a fraction of what others might experience), the employees were very kind and told me that the woman had been warned not to act like that in the store again. A note was also left for the store manager about it. I shop there all the time, so it’s nice to know I have their support. Still, I have to wonder about that person — why did she lash out at me? What is her life like? What kind of day had she had that made her so quick to anger? A thousand possibilities . . .

Ottawa ComicCon — that’s uppermost in my mind, now. That and how to get around logistical and financial issues while Hubby is on his course. Everything eventually will fall into place. We have our tickets, and he has his registration forms. (Oh, crap, there’s also Bridget’s skating club banquet tomorrow, for which I must provide a dish!)

Why is it that my brain wants to keep pulling me back in my mood? As Winston Churchill might have said, I can feel my own black dog pacing around me. Is it having too much caffeine to make up for my tiredness? Is it the change of seasons, still affecting my body rhythms? Certainly, having projects to accomplish helps, but I’ve been fighting moments of “why bother?” and “too tired” and “what’s the point?” — existential crises that hit me even with my teaching. The students’ queries about the points of their tasks really get to me once in a while. For example, in grade 11 English on Friday, I was showing them headlines in the news, and that included on Friday a look at the reporting of the fall and evacuation of Saigon in 1975. One of my students wanted to know how it relates to English. I admitted, not a heck of a lot — this was more of a history thing. But it’s part of media, and our understanding of the world and communication of it. We get more news at times now from social media than we do from big stations, and there’s also the risk of being faked out now by expert photoshoppers. You look at the news reporting in the 1970s, and that was real — perhaps more so than today. I tried to make these connections to justify showing the video, but I saw in her face a distinct lack of satisfaction. Maybe I should do a specific lesson on journalism, past and present. Only six weeks left of class to go, though.

Raise a glass for Saturday night, folks.

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