July 15, 1999.

11:23

I feel so disconnected, like I'm floating through the day. My cold's getting worse. Welcome to cotton head town. 2 more days. 1 more sleep. 1 more wedding.

Yearbooks were handed out this morning. Haven't had one of these in about 4 years...I wonder if anyone will sign it. They came out remarkably well for photocopy jobs. It was marginally my project, however serious input was (once again) never mine to contribute. I either have to grab more responsibility or stop letting it bother me.

I've made a very favourable impression on the highchoolgoth in my computer class. I've managed to convince her that I'm a fairy goth mother in disguise (yes, I stole that idea from Gloomcookie). It's kind of nice. When I was preparing for this job, I had a secret little fantasy that there would be a kid who would let me be their mentor. It's not a very likely scenario...I'm not particularly likeable, especially to kids. I'm still working on my own authority, trying to find a space between hard-ass and push-over. I don't want to be "that bitch who taught me the Great Gatsby," I want to be the teacher that changes some surly little kid's life. Grandiose, I know. It's this sort of thirst for drama that made me want to be a nun for a little while. Yeah, a nun. Not deep religious feeling, but a desire to play that role.

"Respect my authori-tie!!"

I feel rotten, so think that's it for this morning.

10:11

Really depressed and sick. After 2 weeks of feeling useless, friendless & ugly, no one cheered when my picture scanned past in the counselor line-up. It was a perfectly awful shot: I'm slumped in front of a Mac, resembling nothing so much as a jawless slug. I just about burst into tears right there, in an auditorium full of campers & their parents. Nothing worse than feeling a) ugly b) fat c) unpopular d) badly dressed - and then to have that confirmed by the most impartial judges in the world. I'm considering giving up teaching...or any job that puts in front of a lot of people. I don't want to be heard of, I think.

Fortunately, everybody already knew about my cold, so I was able to pass of the wet eyes as symptoms - although people started to wonder when I returned from the bathroom after a 5 minute spell of mostly silent weeping.

You know, I don't think I ever got over being 12 years old. No matter how sophisti-student I think I am, someone can take a grossly unflattering picture & I start to wonder if everyone sees me that way. And it's not that hard to do, believe me. You will never see a picture of me from age 8 to 16.

It's unfashionable to admit it, but I want to be pretty & popular still, although I know in my heart that these things are transitory vanities. Yet there are few things that will undermine my confidence as much as suddenly rediscovering that I am neither of these things.