23 hours later. Same table. Different noises. Feeling a bit stretched tonight - odd week catching up with me finally. Crashed hard after school today - Friday night hard - and woke with a start, disoriented. At first I thought the clock said 6:15, which would have meant I was screwed. But it said 5:15, so I snagged a quick shower, grabbed a couple of Wendy's spicy chicken wraps (no ranch), fought rush hour traffic and made it to the theater only five minutes late. I even managed to parallel park while talking on my cell phone, a minor miracle.
Hey, it's the little things.
Meant to print out the lectionary today at school so I could work on my talk tonight. Forgot. Will have to wait until tomorrow I suppose. While I'm glad to be doing Tartuffe, it has complicated my schedule a touch. No Wendell Berry Sunday (sad) and I'll probably have to miss The Seedy Seeds instore at Shake It tomorrow night, though I did score permission to not show up until 8 PM, so we'll see.
Sarah called on my way to the theater (hence the parallel parking miracle). We seem to talk at the oddest times. This weekend is Paul and Shannon's post-wedding Philadelphia extravaganza, so they all had been talking about me. Flattered. Somehow (I'll leave it to those wiser than me to figure out how) they were talking about my inability to flirt. Maybe inability is too strong. Reticence, perhaps? Definitely not a skill I practice often or excel at. Opportunity rarely presents itself anymore. I suppose I don't actually mind, though I do wonder occasionally if I developed it if I might not spend so many weekends alone. Though I feel maybe it's like getting your ear pierced - after a certain age, it's too late.
Expectations again - maybe I don't foresee a positive response to flirting, so why bother? Defeatist, definitely, but I can't say my experience has shown me any different. Honestly, not trying to fall in to my usual "woe-is-me." Only trying to make sense of why I act - or do not act - in certain situations. Pavlov wasn't far off - we repeat those actions for which we're rewarded.
I often think I should challenge myself, throw caution to the wind and get my flirt on. But where would I even go to do that? And who would take me seriously? Or even play along? The image from Lewis's The Great Divorce keeps appearing, of the skeletal woman smeared with make up, still attempting to be alluring. Like Cyrano, I fear the laughter behind a woman's eyes.
Hmmm. Didn't come here to talk about this. But it's where I've ended up.
Tomorrow my students turn in their persuasive letters to their parents. Taking a cue from last year, I'm going to have them self-evaluate (not to be confused with self-medicate), force them to look at their own writing and give reason why they give themselves the score they did. Need to set the tone early, help them take it seriously - at least as seriously as they can on a Friday after a crazy week. Not sure how focused I'll be myself tomorrow. Guess I'll find out.
Supposed to karaoke tonight and while I want to join, it seems unwise. We won't be out of here until 10:30-11:00, so by the time our names are called to sing, it will be well after the witching hour. Of course, with my nap this afternoon, I probably won't sleep anyway. We'll see how I feel in two hours.
Time to read some. If I keep writing, I'll never transfer all of it to my blog. Awww...Phil Collins is singing "Groovy Kind of Love" and the nostalgia comes roaring back. More on that later...Æ
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1 comment:
I bet Phil Collins doesn't think he's too old to flirt.
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