Now What's My Problem?

Well, now that I have permission to leave and I think I know where I'm going, it still leaves open a few questions about what the h-e-double hockey stick I am going to do with myself. To be honest, the friendly recommendation to stay away from TESOL for 30 days sounds pretty good to me. And the idea of staying away from 30-year-olds is an absolute MUST. In fact, a 70-year-old man got my number at the bookstore just last night. So, the 35 and up policy is in full-effect, but the TESOL issue is quite different. I am good at teaching and I am good at training teachers. It's creative and spontaneous and meaningful to me for the most part. However, it's losing its appeal. Maybe it's because I don't give a rats ass whether it's a relative clause or not or maybe it's because after teaching ESL for long periods of time, I start to talk, aloud and to myself, like a foreigner. Or maybe it's because once I got the master's degree, they all seemed to want Phd.s? I dunno'. I only know that I am not going to some superficial, shallow, dog-eating country just to make a buck again. At least not for a while.

I do have an MSW, but the thought of working with poor nutbags makes me feel very low indeed. I'm going snob!! I can only fathom tolerating rich nutbags at this point.

The bottom line is that I can't stand being indoors stuck between four walls for 40 hours a week unless it's going to be a party. My need to be creative is like my need for frozen snickers - INTENSE! I should be in advertising - finding new and creative ways to get you to eat processed shoestrings or to wear clothing made my newborn babies in Jaklazistan. I should be writing personalized songs for barmitzvahs, weddings, and divorce hearings. Maybe I can start my own advice column in a local newspaper that allows you to swear at people when needed. Wait! I can design crossword puzzles. Look! One across - the clue: "tired hiny". The answer: "dead end". Oh, I am exhausted just writing this much about it, so you can imagine how I feel after spending hours each day online trying to figure it all out. Ahhhhhh! Where's my snickers?

It's all part of the transition from here to there, but I feel like I am crossing that bridge in my underwear during a blizzard with a flying gojii berry stuck in my eye.

On a bright, yet somewhat sad, note, I made the decision to not have any more written contact with my ex for at least three months. Awwww... I know, you care...not. Yeah, and I know that I was supposed to do this three months ago, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I couldn't, I tell you!!! Ah, so, I am three months late. At least I am here...and ready. That means that when I want to contact him, I will be contacting you instead. You don't mind, do ya'? That's what friends are for, eh? Maybe Santa will bring me a nice non practicing Judeo-Christian boy, ahem, I mean, man this year for Christmakah. Let's cross our legs and hope.

I really wish I could donate all the leftover chocolate that's stuck to my candy wrappers.

BTW, thanks for all your good thoughts - I think they made a difference. I really do.

Yours,

Ima R. Ite