And we all float on...

Tomorrow I'm doing something very unlike me.

For the 6 years that I have been teaching, I have taken only a handful of days of vacation. And maybe only 1 or 2 sick days. I never get ill, and honestly, the amount of "catch-up" work required from being out often negates the day off. There have been very few occasions that have been grand enough to warrant taking time off, especially if your employer pays you for vacation days not taken.

Well, my new employer does not have such a policy, and I really want to take advantage of the "limitless" days of paid leave they offer.

So, tomorrow I am taking a "mental health" day.

The one woman at work that I feel even remotely close to is going through a "thing." She has a lot on her plate and is not processing it particularly well. She took off this entire week to tend to some medical and legal matters, but will (hopefully) be returning next week with a renewed sense of self and a revitalization for her job.

I decided to take a day off so that she and I could hang out, like we always talk about but never actually follow through with.

I am meeting her at 10:45 for tea, and then we will have lunch, and then the crafting begins.

Honestly, I am quite looking forward to taking time for myself to do the things that bring me joy. I spend so much time working hard and playing hard that I never relax in a productive way. And I want to be a better friend to her. Lord knows I would be miserable without her guidance and listening ear.

So no 4:45 alarm for me tomorrow. It's all about enjoying the day and the company. And I think it might be just what I need.

I'm free, to do what I want, any ol' time...

By a miracle of God, I got my work done by 7:30 am.

I have this new lifestyle. This college-esque work hard, party hard weekend mentality. While it's my mental and emotional savior, it really put in a chink in the chain of my productivity. Both Friday and Saturday nights (er, Saturday and Sunday mornings) I went to bed around 5 am. I awoke around 1:30 pm. "Crazy," you say? "Un-Sheri-like?" Why, yes. But this seems to be my new weekend trend.

And yesterday around 2, I was faced with a massive amount of work that had to be done, both because of actual deadlines and the fact that I had to teach today and had nothing prepared. I worked at a snail's pace for a good number of hours, and still there was a mountain of work with a "To-Do" tag and both hours and energy waning.

So what did I do? I got up at 3:45 this morning and got to school at exactly 5:30. I was officially the first person on campus. And with good reason. I'm apparently crazy.

But between 5:30 and 7:30 this morning, I was more productive than I've been in days. I prepped lessons for my classes, made copies, wrote 15 student reports, and made a list of all of the things I need to accomplish this week.

Maybe my mom's right. Maybe I am a master procrastinator. But "master" is the only word I'm focusing on in that phrase.

I have no intentions of giving up my crazy weekend hours. At least not yet. I need them to feel alive and to feel young. And there's not a lot that's doing that for me these days, so I'll take it when I can get it.

This does mean, however, that I will be going to bed tonight before most senior citizens.

C'est la vie.

No more words...

When you pay tens of thousands of dollars to send your children to private school, you can be assured of a few things. One, that their teachers will be awesome, and two, that you will not only get a report card with letter and number grades, but you will also get a report card with words. And by words, I mean a detailed breakdown of why your child scored the marks he/she did.

This is the worst part of teaching children whose parents pay tens of thousands of dollars to send them to school.

By Monday morning, I must have 65 of these "reports" written. For each student I teach, I have to write multiple paragraphs about their performance. I have to use academic language and complex sentence structure, and each one needs to be personalized (no form letter, unfortunately). To say that this takes a while is an understatement. To say that I would rather cut off phalanges is more accurate. In the end, it will take about 2-3 hours per class to do this. And I teach 5 classes.

So right now I hate my life more than usual. My typical "take no work home" mantra has been temporarily discarded for fear of not completing this biannual process.

At least while at home I can ingest a cocktail or two to help the words flow freely through my fingertips. I just have to make sure I don't spill any whiskey on my keyboard.

Happy Thursday.

All the roads we have to walk are winding...

I try, everyday, to feel blessed about my life. I try to recognize the multitude of instances in my existence where, if things would have turned out differently, my life (as I know it) would be completely unrecognizable.

In a lot of respects, I am amazingly lucky.

My move to Houston has been bittersweet. And I'm not shy to admit that. But in a lot of ways, I feel like I have been reinventing myself far too often. But is this it for me? Is this the final stop on the Sheri-World-Tour? I can't commit to anything that huge. And I'm definitely not ready to commit to this humidity.

When I'm not working, I feel lost. Now, don't think that I'm a workaholic. As my mom would tell it, I'm the uber-procrastinator that only gets things done after incessant nagging from her. But that's not true at all. Maybe about life, but not about work. I take my job very seriously. Problem is, it's probably the only thing I have going on that's "serious". And I don't even think I'm doing that well at it. I'm a great teacher, and the students seem to really like me, but there are only a handful of relationships I've formed at my workplace. After Buckley in LA, this is quite the change for me.

You tend to go a little "loca en la cabeza" when you spend your whole day talking to 14 year-olds.

But I digress (as if I even have a point to this...).

All around me I see life and death. Marriages and babies. But all from the periphery. For being close to 30, sometimes I feel like I haven't experienced anything at all. And yet, sometimes, I feel like I have already lived a lifetime in these 29 years.

So I'll wake up tomorrow at 4:30 and get to school by 6:30, before anyone else arrives, and try (once again) to be optimistic about my new life. Some days it's easier than others. And sometimes, I just feel like I wish I was 12 and I had all the time (and hope) in the world.