It comes as no surprise to anyone who's read these recent posts that I am having a rough week. I miss people. I miss feeling like I know what I'm doing. I miss having a couch to sit on. You get the idea.
It's a very typical November, perhaps.
Sometimes, when weeks are shitty, and it's a Friday evening, I like to make little lists of the good stuff. Maybe the list will help me this week. This week it's been hard to find the good stuff. It's a little like sifting through a pile of turds to find diamonds. What? You mean you've never had to do that?
DIAMONDS
* Brevity took a piece I wrote on the beach this summer, when I was at the beach this summer. It's about the beach.
* The seventh season of Scrubs is out on DVD.
* I bought strands of white twinkle lights and I plan on hanging them in my windows this weekend.
* There is pear vodka in the freezer that I am going to mix with fancy blood orange soda.
* I have newly short bangs. They're cooperating so far.
* Jean wrote us an e-mail today that contained the following paragraph:
Yesterday in my grad class our Professor handed out a chart that explains "the year of a first-year teacher," although this chart essentially summarizes every year of teaching. If it makes you feel any better, the chart says that November and December are supposed to be the worst. August starts with "anticipation" and then the line takes a steep downward slope to these two months, which are essentially sub-zero. This phase is called "disillusionment."
...
According to the chart, this will end in February, which I'm not sure I agree with, because most of time February makes me want to kill myself. Twice over.
It made me laugh out loud.
* I'm going to dinner at a place where they have great olive burgers and cheap beer. It's within walking distance.
I'm walking.
