I don’t know how people do it all day, every day, for years.
No, I’m not talking about sex (I know how people do that, and I’m still routinely disgusted by the whole affair… see what I did there?). I’m talking about education. To be more precise, I’m talking about teaching.
I love my job. I get up at 5:30 every morning to feed and walk my dog, and I leave my house by 7. At 7:50, school starts, and so begins the rush. I leave work at 4, get home by 4:45, take a half-hour break (or a two hour nap, depending on how crazy the little goobers were), feed and walk my dog, and then work until I go to bed at 11. Sometimes I work out. Most of the time I just get really excited about lesson plans, or I make worksheets, or I stare at the wall for fifteen minutes while trying desperately to remember my name.
I am Whitney, and my work consumes me. It’s on my mind all day, every day, and I can’t get enough of it. It’s the best relationship I’ve ever had, but it’s also the worst one because it doesn’t give me massages, flowers, or puppies (or enough money. Yeah, I went there).
I write. A lot. But translating that to the internet is increasingly difficult. I write during my kids’ silent Do Now time (the first 8 minutes of class), and usually put notes in my phone as I pass out before bed. The time it takes for me to sit down and type a blog out usually just sounds too exhausting. Lazy Whitney is lazy.
In February when I started this blog, it was my baby. Now, I’m married to its step-mom (because apparently I’m gay-married to an intangible idea of “job”… because that’s totally possible) and I neglect it in order to appease my demanding wife.
Yeah, that metaphor totally works.
Anyway, what I’m saying is: I love this blog. I love writing for it. I love writing for you. But my damn job takes up all of my time, and I feel wracked with guilt for ignoring this baby here. So I’m going to try and be better. I’m going to try and post at least once every two weeks. Hopefully more. I would like my work-life balance to figure itself out, but I would even more like my work-writing balance to tip over in favor of my words.
Because I miss you guys. I want your step-mom to go visit her parents for a while, so I can hang out with you and throw the football around a bit. And then we can have a real blogger-reader bonding session where we bitch about how tyrannical your step-mother is. Deal?