Today I went to an all-day workshop-- my first of three- to get my emergency substitute teacher certificate for PA. I get there early, ans as I eat my complimentary bagel and drink my shockingly weak coffee, I keep hearing this voice in my head being like, "What are you doing? This isn't what you want! This isn't what you want to do withyour life! These kids are going to Eat. You. Alive. Go! Go now! Go back to bed!"
So I beat the voice back with the Reality Stick, saying "Life isn't fair. You gotta do what you gotta do. You have valuable skills and experiences to offer these kids. You'll be a photojournalist again before you know it. Stay. Stay!" when suddenly I see- two rows in front of me, wearing a sea-foam green blazer, the one, the only- Shannon Edwards. (dunt dunt duh) The xylophone destroying, sexually harassing, scary groping, ultimate high school band geek hanger-on from the class of like, 1992 or 1993, who practically mauled me to death at a Christmas concert in 1998.
This of course sets off a chorus of voices screaming at me to flee! Flee! FLEE THE IU BUILDING! and then I think, "At least this will make a good story for my weblog. Sigh....
Then I came home and made a bunch of job-hunting phone calls. No offers on the table yet.