I drive myself crazy with the thoughts that run round in my head. They never stop. What doesn’t help is that I have a memory that remembers far too much and forgets far too little. And what it does forget are things that I probably ought to remember but can’t because there’s too much other crap stuffed in there! I think what compounds the problem is that I’m emotional. I was reading a research article that links thoughts to emotions- with every thought there is an emotion. I have a theory of my own about myself that is because I feel everything so keenly, it causes me to remember everything so keenly. I wonder if there is a way to convert this to teaching myself French? Or to remember all of those historical facts I was exposed to in my four years of undergrad? Of course, if they were Simpsons’ quotes, or movie lines, or song lyrics, I wouldn’t have any problem. Or if they were mixed in with slights- real or imagines- that I have received over the course of my lifetime (those from the opposite sex stand out particularly well.)?

I am a bleeding ball of insecurities wrapped up in a five foot two, blonde haired, blue- eyed package that disguises it all rather nicely under cheerfulness or disdain. I am haughty, jealous, bitchy, mean, nasty, cutting, vindictive, possessive. I am loving, loyal, kind, generous, talented, silly, romantic, honest, cheerful, caring. I am me and I have great dualities. I have this tendency to look at someone as “Mine!” and I get horribly jealous. I don’t know why. I’ve always been this way, but those that truly know and truly love me know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them, that those I love, I love deeply. Of course, the flip side is, those that I hate, I hate deeply as well. Those that I hate the most were once ones I loved very deeply. I think there is only one on that particular list, however.
There go those dualities again.

Today, I am so moody, I can't stand myself. I hate when I get like this, but there isn't much I can do to snap out of it. And we're listening to Billie Holiday today, which was good when I used to mire myself in my misery. I don't like to do that anymore. I want to be my cheerful self. Damn my caprcious ways!

I never yearn to be a painter so much as when I drive home from school as the sun is setting. I can't describe the sheer, awesome beauty that I have seen over the past month as I have driven home. This evenings display was truly breathtaking. I wish I had a camera or sketch pad, but I really wished for the most was a some paint and canvases and a modicum of painting talent. The sky I saw tonight reminded of work that my friend, and former roommate in NYC, Heidi, is capable of doing. (e:Dimartiste) and (e:Trisha) know what I'm talking about. They've seen her work. And then I get frustrated that someone with that much talent is doing nothing with it. Probably as frustrated as (e:Dimartiste) gets with me over my writing. Anyway... Evenings like this, and there are a lot of them, I yearn to be a painter. I just wish you could all just look inside my head and see what I have seen. Then, perhaps, this post would make some sense.

Buuutttt... as I haven't written anything in what seems like FOREVER, I will write a smidgeon. Last night, I got my first speeding ticket. YUCK! I was totally in the wrong and the trooper wasn't a dick about it or anything sooo... what can really be said except that I have to SLOW DOWN! Which I knew anyway. Oh well. Live and learn. Let's see, let's see... Oh, yes, I unexpectedly got to see the Boy this past weekend. YAY! Damn his fine self! Nope. Still haven't told him how I feel. I just couldn't bring myself to drop that kind of bomb with his 7 year old niece sitting on my lap. Also, I am writing again. I haven't been inspired to actually write anything for months but last Thursday whilst driving to work, I just got this story stuck in my head and so, voila! I am writing again. Work is work. It's there. My co-worker who had been out on disability since I left for England (keep in mind that was back in May!) finally came back to the bank and has cheered our dreary little hearts. The wicked which of Westen New York will be leaving my little bank, so that gets a Hip-Hip-Hooray! School is going fairly well. No more of this 5 classes in one semester nonsense! I'm killing myself! And I have unequivically proved at work today that I am the most tense woman in the Western Hemisphere. And I have the knots in my back and shoulder blades to prove it! Okay. I think that's about it. I am off to my dream Isle.

Tomorrow, I have to teach Sunday school. I have not taught Sunday school in eight years. My dad and are a Sunday school teaching team. Two weeks on, two weeks off. I love kids. I get to work with the young ones. It's supposed to be from pre-k and Kindergarten, but I believe one of my little guys is only two and a half- little Max. He's adorable and a hand full.

We're starting a new Sunday school program called "Godly Play" which is based upon Montessori. It's very hands on and esthetically beautiful. The wording is very specific and cleverly simplistic. ("cleverly" is not the word I wanted to use there, but it has escaped me. I had it five minutes ago, but now it's gone. That's so annoying!) The words are surprising in the depths of their meaning, made easy for little ones to understand, but definitely with hidden depths.

What we are teaching are the stories, things that, hopefully, they will remember and carry with them through whatever life brings them.

I'm nervous, though. Worried about screwing up, losing class control when I'm supposed to have their focus on something specific, worried about- well- about being a good teacher. It's my most common worry nowadays. I don't actually worry about my school work. There's a lot of it. I'll get it done, somehow, and hopefully with the grades that I want. (What I want and what I deserve are sometimes two different things. Isn't that most things in life, though?) As I read my texts and different articles are discuss teaching in my classes, I worry, will I be a good teacher? I don't doubt that I'm doing the right thing. I feel that I am, but I worry about being a good teacher. That's a lot of young minds to put in my hands and I don't want to waste or ruin any of that potential.

I'm tired. I have to go and re-read my script for tomorrow. At least a couple of times. And then it's off to bed. I ought to read more Catcher in the Rye. It is due on Monday. It'll get done. It has to. Good night, fair e-peeps. May you all dream beautiful dreams.