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Archive for April, 2013

Nothing

Lately, I’ve been wafting through life.  You know, not writing, not really doing or saying anything and for the most part I still am.  I’m not feeling particularly happy but not feeling sad either.  I put in an application for an 8th grade English teacher position, which I would love, but at the same time  I’m trying not to get my hopes up (it is the same position I didn’t get last year).  I know I need to get my masters but honestly if I don’t get a teaching position I’m not sure which direction I’m going in so I’m sort of holding off.  My youngest daughter’s teacher gave me a sheet for an online school, but I can’t seem to find it and I’m just walking along life in a daze, just waiting, nowhere to go and no real idea of where I want to go anyway.

I haven’t written, part of me is waiting for the whole thing to go away, another part of me is waiting for the passion to return, but either way I need to move on and I’m afraid if I fall right back into the writing that the desire to teach will fade and I can’t risk that.  I can’t go another year not teaching, not writing, and not getting anywhere.

So I’ve done very little.  The house is a little cleaner, but other than that nothing is really happening.  I’m sort of in the middle, waiting for my mood to finally go one way or another.  Yesterday I ran, but didn’t really care; today I am working and again, don’t care.

Here’s the thing, if I give in to writing then will I loose teaching?  I can’t help but think that if I let writing back in, I’ll go back to dreaming, to aspiring and I will never get a job.  I will never become a teacher, but in the same token, I don’t want to be here, working that is.  Well I do I just don’t want to be here right now.  If I was an English teacher, then I’d want to be here…right?

I’m just letting my stream of consciousness run its course,  trying to figure things out, but it seems to me that I need to conform…to fit in to what the world thinks I should be and not what I want to be.  I need to start wanting to be a teacher, working towards it and hopefully become it, then I can see how I can fit writing into my life, if at all.

But then, I know, that at the end of my life, it is my writing that will define me, not my teaching, not the amount of money I made, or how many kids I helped, it will be my stories…but I’m sorry, I am just not strong enough to hold onto them anymore.  I’m not strong enough to keep fighting the fight, keep writing the right…I give up.  I quit.

 

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