First, thank you Alison for actually reading this. Apparently you and my Mom think I'm a great writer. :-)
Now, first yes this is not a sober post. I have had an INSANE week and it's not over yet. If there are any teachers out there, you know this time of year. Everyone else is telling you how lucky you are to get your summer vacation and how it is so easy to be a teacher. But this week alone we had field day (or run around in the sun and yell at children in a potato sack day), a field trip (or run around in the sun and yell at children in a theme park day) and grades due. On top of that I have two students who know they have two weeks left, who are out of their mind bonkers with excitement, who have given up and who I have to beg, pry, bargain and plea with to try and get them to finish said work for said grades due tomorrow and I am splendidly unsuccessful with. So, as I hope you can see, I need a drink tonight.
So tonight, instead of writing another Dear Jen Lancaster (as she is not reading this I have come to begrudgingly understand. HOWEVER, Laurie Notaro did read it, she commented on the post I wrote to her so I take that as a definite WIN!), I am just writing. I am writing to try and find the mojo that I seem to have lost. I was thinking back to when I had first moved to Florida, at 23 and how awesome I felt. I moved to a new state, got my first real job, my first apartment and was making it on my own. I felt powerful and strong. I had fun, got out of hand, made some mistakes, but nothing I couldn't redeem or move on from. I was good. Now I feel old. It's only six years later and I feel a lifetime has gone by. I don't get out of hand, I pay my mortgage. I don't make silly mistakes, I drink green tea. I don't know how I got to be middle aged at 28, but I did. I have a grown up job with grown up friends (whom I love but don't know what my 2 am karaoke sounds like or my philosophy after too many rum and cokes) and I'm assured this happens to everyone, I just didn't know it happens at 28. So in a month and a half I will be 29 the last number before the big one and my grown up me knows I will celebrate with a sensible lunch date with friends because that's what a 29 year old teacher will do. What I really want to do, what my 23 year old self wants to do, I'm just not sure anymore.