My--brain--hurts!
Hmm. I'm sure that when I created that icon I hoped I would never have to use it twice in a row. Oh, well.
It's just that my brain is so darn full. If you really want to read the crazy and somewhat frustrated ramblings that are about to spill forth, you are welcome to do so.
Work, right now, involves anxiously awaiting the licensor who is supposedly coming to inspect the child care center at work on some unspecified day between twenty-three days ago and next Monday; frantic and ill-thought-out preparations for the Week of the Young Child; giant issues with my student teacher (like, violation of student conduct policy issues); and big time Spring Fever on the part of everyone, from the other teachers down to the youngest toddlers. When I leave that mess, I dash headlong into the chaos of prepping my violin students for their upcoming recital; the remaining unpacked boxes around the house, which are starting to look at me reproachfully; and of course the total exhaustion of the ever-beloved tech week for a show I don't even like, under the direction of the Evil Hell-Beast. (No, seriously. Can I just say that I'm really tired of everybody in anything music-related believing that whatever they're in charge of should inarguably be the most important thing in everyone else's lives? When I'm peering at my music at work in the dark during the kids' nap time, plucking out my part as quietly as possible just to get some practice time in, and STILL getting dirty looks because I had to be a half-hour late to rehearsal due to being four suburbs away teaching lessons, there's something very wrong.)
And I've got some recently-unearthed and only half-formed career ideas careening around in there, too, which I may elaborate on at another time.
But, oddly, the thing that's actually making me feel the most overwhelmed is that the insistent itch I get every now and again to create something has picked this oh-so-inopportune time to rear its strange little head. Usually it's just a vague nagging feeling that I would much rather be doing a scrapbooking layout, or knitting, or practicing (what I want to practice) on violin, or any number of other creative endeavors, over whatever it is I'm doing at that moment. But I just finished a pretty terrific little book by Anne Ursu (a.k.a. BatGirl )--thanks, Mom! I'll have it back to you soon--and it's given me the writing bug. Pretty bad. Which is a little silly, in some ways: apart from this venue (gentle readers?) I haven't written ANYTHING for, oh, a pretty long time. Not that I haven't wanted to--if you ask me about my dream job, it's still "children's book author," like it has been for eons--but I've just never had an idea. And I still don't have an idea. But my brain thinks it has one, it just hasn't let me in on the secret yet. There's something there, I just don't know what it is. It really feels just like a little goldfish swimming around in my head (though maybe not as uncomfortable as that sounds). Definitely a swimming, never-quite-surfacing sensation, though. Or sometimes a feeling in my chest instead of my head, like when you're really excited and in anticipation of something, less like a fish and more like bird wings against my rib cage. All of which makes me sort of sound like I'm crazy, but obviously I'm not, since I just wrote that, and you can't be fully insane if you think you might be. Right?
It makes me sort of wish I'd been able to remember my dreams lately, like they might provide some inspiration or something, but I've been pretty dream-free. That's okay though, really, because I don't have the time or energy to devote to it right now. Soon, I hope?
In the meantime, I should have been in bed an hour ago. This has emptied out my brain a little bit, though, so it will probably prove to have been worth it. Now I'll just go re-read some Harry Potter (preparing for July 21st! geek geek geek) and fall asleep.
Oh, yeeechh, the superintendent is coming to our morning staff meeting tomorrow. Bleah. Not really worrisome or anything--just one more thing to think about. Gotta look semi-professional AND be super on time tomorrow...
It's just that my brain is so darn full. If you really want to read the crazy and somewhat frustrated ramblings that are about to spill forth, you are welcome to do so.
Work, right now, involves anxiously awaiting the licensor who is supposedly coming to inspect the child care center at work on some unspecified day between twenty-three days ago and next Monday; frantic and ill-thought-out preparations for the Week of the Young Child; giant issues with my student teacher (like, violation of student conduct policy issues); and big time Spring Fever on the part of everyone, from the other teachers down to the youngest toddlers. When I leave that mess, I dash headlong into the chaos of prepping my violin students for their upcoming recital; the remaining unpacked boxes around the house, which are starting to look at me reproachfully; and of course the total exhaustion of the ever-beloved tech week for a show I don't even like, under the direction of the Evil Hell-Beast. (No, seriously. Can I just say that I'm really tired of everybody in anything music-related believing that whatever they're in charge of should inarguably be the most important thing in everyone else's lives? When I'm peering at my music at work in the dark during the kids' nap time, plucking out my part as quietly as possible just to get some practice time in, and STILL getting dirty looks because I had to be a half-hour late to rehearsal due to being four suburbs away teaching lessons, there's something very wrong.)
And I've got some recently-unearthed and only half-formed career ideas careening around in there, too, which I may elaborate on at another time.
But, oddly, the thing that's actually making me feel the most overwhelmed is that the insistent itch I get every now and again to create something has picked this oh-so-inopportune time to rear its strange little head. Usually it's just a vague nagging feeling that I would much rather be doing a scrapbooking layout, or knitting, or practicing (what I want to practice) on violin, or any number of other creative endeavors, over whatever it is I'm doing at that moment. But I just finished a pretty terrific little book by Anne Ursu (a.k.a. BatGirl )--thanks, Mom! I'll have it back to you soon--and it's given me the writing bug. Pretty bad. Which is a little silly, in some ways: apart from this venue (gentle readers?) I haven't written ANYTHING for, oh, a pretty long time. Not that I haven't wanted to--if you ask me about my dream job, it's still "children's book author," like it has been for eons--but I've just never had an idea. And I still don't have an idea. But my brain thinks it has one, it just hasn't let me in on the secret yet. There's something there, I just don't know what it is. It really feels just like a little goldfish swimming around in my head (though maybe not as uncomfortable as that sounds). Definitely a swimming, never-quite-surfacing sensation, though. Or sometimes a feeling in my chest instead of my head, like when you're really excited and in anticipation of something, less like a fish and more like bird wings against my rib cage. All of which makes me sort of sound like I'm crazy, but obviously I'm not, since I just wrote that, and you can't be fully insane if you think you might be. Right?
It makes me sort of wish I'd been able to remember my dreams lately, like they might provide some inspiration or something, but I've been pretty dream-free. That's okay though, really, because I don't have the time or energy to devote to it right now. Soon, I hope?
In the meantime, I should have been in bed an hour ago. This has emptied out my brain a little bit, though, so it will probably prove to have been worth it. Now I'll just go re-read some Harry Potter (preparing for July 21st! geek geek geek) and fall asleep.
Oh, yeeechh, the superintendent is coming to our morning staff meeting tomorrow. Bleah. Not really worrisome or anything--just one more thing to think about. Gotta look semi-professional AND be super on time tomorrow...