Yesterday was a weird fucking day. And I don't say that lightly.

The teaching was fine. I'm in the grip of a mild depression, one I've been experiencing ever since the dopey effects of the sedatives wore off on Wednesday. So that even though my performance has been quite good (in fact, things are really starting to come together for me), I'm still crying a lot and dreaming about horrible classroom situations. This last has been really disturbing for me, as I fight with students for 8 hours in my subconscious every night...then I have to get up and do it again. I know where this is coming from, of course: I'm trying to medicate, meditate and ignore my anxieties out of existence, so I create a pressure situation in my subconscious that expresses itself in dreams. I mean, duh. But knowing what it is doesn't mean that I know how to deal with it.

I'm thinking of doubling my night-time dosage of sedative. My doctor had recommended that I double the dosage after the first week, and while I'm reluctant to do that during the day, I think it might help me sleep at night. I'd like to make it perfectly clear at this point that I am still well within doctor recommendations, and that I have no intention of continually bumping up my medication until I consider it "effective." I know that it's an addictive medication with street value, and I'm not going to increase the dosage past my first set of guidelines if and until my doctor tells me that it's okay.

Please don't worry. I'm taking this deadly seriously.

(All together now: "I thought taking medication would decrease my anxiety!")

As I was saying, the teaching went rather well. In fact, my morning was so brilliant that I was high on it for at least an hour into my lunch. And although caf duty straightened me out, it was nice to float for awhile.

What happened was this. I've been teaching figures of speech to my oldest class, and they've been having trouble with the concept of personification. So I did a mini-lesson on the Tom Waits song "The Piano Has Been Drinking." Now, some of these are kids are already in serious trouble, either with their family or with the law or with their social group. They don't know much about English. But what they do understand is drinking and loneliness. It was the first time that I've ever done something with them in which the weakest students got the point right away. And they enjoyed the break so much that I played "Step Right Up" for them while collecting money for a textbook.

I told them that if they were really, really good next week, I'd play "Pasties & a G-string" for them. But I don't think they will be.

After school I rushed home, took a shower, and put on my soon-to-be-traditional "I'm not a teacher today!" outfit: Stacy's black skirt, boots, dark makeup and my Jen Patches tanktop (it's a skull & crossbones with the logo 'GO HOME AND PRACTICE'). I wore the same thing to see "The Royal Tenenbaums" last Friday, and it really gives me a charge to pull it together after a week of self-doubt and near-crippling anxiety.

The Boy & I met Dirk for dinner at Swiss Chalet (oh, the gorging) and then caught the premiere of "Firefly" on a gigantic projection teevee. We were in Dirk's office building, all alone in a gigantic conference room that looks much like an updated version of the war room in "Dr. Strangelove." So not only did we enjoy Joss Whedon's work on 'the big board,' we spent quite a bit of time playing with the microphones and rolling around on the leatherette desk chairs.

"I think you two have had the most fun in this room, ever," said Dirk.

It was one of the most silly/decadent things I've done in recent memory, but I have to do these things once in awhile to remind myself that I am in fact a princess. I deserve a big teevee and inappropriate use of intercoms. Just not all the time.

Dirk pulled out his wallet and addressed the Boy.

"The tickets cost 12.50, so I'm going to pay you ten dollars now..."

"With an option to throw quarters at you later." I finished, wholly absorbed in balancing a fork on my finger.

After the show wound up we walked down to Queen Street in the rain, absurdly happy to be experiencing Maritimey weather on the night we were to see the Irish Descendants. Once inside the 'Shoe, I immediately began scanning the room for Mother Teresa, as I knew she had tickets. Suddenly, Ophelia was at Dirk's elbow, talking a mile a minute.

My heart literally stopped. Quick as a flash, I thought about wanting to make peace with her at the last Fireball, and being strenuously ignored until I finally gave up.

That was about as much thinking as I had a chance to do, as she was speaking to me within seconds. Confused, I reacted as bears do, which is to say hostile. (She commented on my non-alcoholic drink and I snarled something about being on sedatives.) She talked a lot and I tried to keep up, gradually losing my instinctive aggression. The Boy stood stone-faced, overwhelmed by a wave of protectiveness for me that made him want to commit irrational acts. Dirk just smiled.

After a few minutes, she went back to her friends and the three of us found a spot to stand and lean. I stood there with my Diet Coke, completely spun. I had no idea what was going on at that particular moment. There I was in the Horseshoe, about to see a Celtic band with a husband, a best friend, a colleague and a woman from my past. Was I reliving my StanFest experience? Was I out with my boys? Had I inadvertently stumbled into "the old days," as I had consciously done last week? Not to mention the fact that I had to deal with the Boy's protective anger while still looking for Teresa.

The opening act came on and I began to lose myself in the reels. I danced in my spot, smiling to myself and thinking of the gigantic pit of barefoot hippies two summers ago. The opening act ended. I had another Coke. And then I saw Ophelia again.

She began by congratulating me on the wedding; telling me that she had seen the pictures online and that she had wanted very much to congratulate us in person. (She also congratulated me on netting such a mint example of maledom. I mentioned that he was part of her clan, and she replied, "yeah, we're all shits. But at least he's hot.") Odd coincidences were in effect for her as well, and she mentioned the fact that Friday had been the worst day of the past four years, and as such it was beyond eerie she would see me today. I told her about teaching Waits, figuring that she'd get a kick out of the fact that I was using "Pasties & a G-string" in an academic context. And then she started apologizing. I was confused - was she apologizing for being emotional or drunk tonight? For not being at the wedding?

Turns out that she was apologizing for everything. And the funny thing about that is that I don't think that either of us have any idea what "everything" is. I was kind of stunned. I think I wandered away at that point.

I found Teresa at the bar, talking to a former girlfriend of her brother. She couldn't get over the coincedence. There's a lot of that going around tonight I thought to myself. She laughed delightedly at my outfit: "so, you're a goth, huh?" I shrugged, grinning. "That's cool!" After some introductions between my group and hers, the boys & I slid back to the front of the venue. I drank my coke & wondered why I wasn't feeling anything in particular.

Something occurred to me. I found Ophelia again.

"I think I forgot to say the part that everything's okay," I said, not really sure if I was making sense.

"Does that mean that I can hug you?"

Shortly afterward I made my way back to the boys. There was no longer an immediate need to talk. Now we can talk any time. I don't know if I'm happy or sad about that. It was so sudden and so deep. I think my first real emotional reaction to this whole night came this morning, when I sat down to the computer and burst into tears. The Boy came running in and crouched next to the chair, wrapping his arms around me and making quiet noises.

"It's over," I finally sobbed. "Four years. It's finally done." He knew exactly what I meant.

So I don't know what's going to happen next. But at least this part, this poison, is done. I'm purged and I'm waiting for the next moment. Maybe when it comes I'll know how I feel.

The three of us left after the first set, massively pleased with the amount of good Newfoundland vibes we had absorbed in one evening. The Boy & I spent too much money on a cab, talked about what had happened for hours, and fell asleep in our summer-hot bedroom.