december 7, 2001. Today was much, much better. I no longer feel like I'm about to be fired from student teaching (or "flunked" as we like to say here on the good ship Education). I no longer feel like I'm wasting my time on this good ship altogether. I have - somehow - regained my sense of purpose. (As Homer would say, it's always in the last place you look.) It was a pretty rough 24 hours, though. I bawled my eyes out last night and could do very little else; that I managed to make & eat a bowl of pasta is, to my mind, nothing short of remarkable. That I managed to put together 2 lesson plans for today is just this side of unbelievable. Yes, it was that bad. I managed to get Palaver on the phone in the early evening, who luckily forgave me for calling him at work and sobbing hysterically for 40 minutes while he put my self-esteem back together piece by piece. He's been doing that a lot in the last couple of months - not for me, but for his family and friends. By now he has it down to a technique: soothe & suggest, soothe & suggest. It's remarkably effective. Anyway, it worked on me: I soon became resolved to outline my problems and bring them to my mentor for - hello?? - some actual mentoring instead of waiting for her to lower the boom again & again. (Okay, that part didn't work out as well today...but that's hardly Palaver's fault.) When I got in this morning my teacher & I had a grim conference before homeroom, one that amounted to "fix this, now." It was kind of nerve-wracking, and I felt mildly rotten until I started the first lesson and forgot everything. But fix it I did: she was convinced that I could handle 2 out of 3 classes on the schedule and decided to give me another crack with the really difficult bunch that tried to break me yesterday. And that's all I need, really. I know that I can get through the next few days; I just need the rope to do so. Even if I do end up hanging myself, the rope is necessary. It's been a very strange week. In addition to the fucked up carnival of horrors known as my practicum experience, the Boy has been working the 3 p.m. to 1 a.m. shift all week. This means that we see each other for about 10 minutes at 2:30 a.m. (when he goes to bed and I'm trying to sleep) and 20 minutes at 6:30 a.m. (when I'm getting out of bed and he's trying to sleep). It's a schedule that hasn't left a lot of time for heartfelt confidences, let's say. In fact, that's one of the reasons that I've been calling home to cry on Stacy, Scherezade & Palaver's shoulders - there's no one at home with me. (Ceilidh isn't as sympathetic as she could be; usually she seems to think that adding more food to her dish could solve my problems.) Fortunately, nothing is static in the fast-paced world of tech support, and there'll be a whole new sleeping schedule to adjust to next week. I'm looking forward to it in a twisted sort of way. My goal is to sweep tomorrow clean of everything that smacks of responsibility & just do enjoyable, me-things. I think that I'll actually get my hair dyed, too. (Good thing - I've let it go for 9 weeks & my roots are atrocious.) Also, there should be a lot of diaryin'. Look forward to it! this time 3 years ago: eros & thanatos - the freudian entry