It's true that, for teachers, August is one long Sunday night, and the first few weeks of September are somehow traumatic. Not that I wasn't in need of some routine and intellectual challenge (teaching actually is an intellectual activity, despite what many think. It is not just about picking out adorable theme outfits, making dittos, and thinking up new ways to torture children). Still, I feel like dropping out of everything. All the commitments I ambitiously made for the school year seem like too much. I want to put in a hard day of work, then lie on the floor all evening and listen to music. That's as far as my ambition stretches right now. I don't even feel like cooking, reading, or watching movies. But Instead of indulging this unmotivated mood, I have signed up for a bunch of classes at the gym to pile on top of my after-school activities. So I guess I'm in all the way now.
On the up side, my lovely art teaching co-worker brought me kale and spinach today, sauteed. She brought me rice pasta with goat cheese and avocado and pesto. She considers me when she puts away her leftovers. To boot, she brought me big fancy gold earrings that dangle way down almost to my shoulders. Tomorrow I am taking her an Indian classical CD that I like for yoga. If I had a desire to cook, and the corresponding leftovers, I would totally take her some.
The last movie I watched from Netflix was an Almodovar one, while I was illin' with food poisoning. It was The Flower of My Secret. I really liked that the main character was, for one thing, an older woman, without it being a movie about "an older woman." I also liked that she couldn't get her boots off and had to pay a panhandler on the street to try to tug them off, unsuccessfully. That was fantastic.
I have decided that these Miz Mooz boots are the ones I would like to get stuck on my feet this fall.
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