on my mark

Hiatus from the so-called "blogging world" has brought me to an awkward return. This is a blog after all, not a scientific journal or holy book. So proclaiming my restoration of this site feels a bit juvenile if not egotistic. Please understand that I post these stories not because they are the most important in the world but because I find them anecdotal and (occasionally) humourous.

Much has happened since my last entry. I was blessed with the chance to experience both the pain of loss and the joy of gain as I trudged through the rigours of finding a job. Although I am ecstatic to helm a classroom at The School it feels like an undeserved Sword in the Stone pulled at a gangly and awkward age of my teaching skills. To later find that a colleague had been rejected the same job makes me feel even more strange to think that One pulled some celestial strings to make this happen. I have found that we all have the same question, "Why am I here?". But I, for one, tote it in a battered leather suitcase bringing it with me to wherever I go. The places may change, but the question seems to stay the same.

It seems as though I still carry the Graphic Novel bug. At least I insist that it is a "bug", Julia rolls her eyes and explains that it is "just a phase" to her friends who accidentally sit on my findings (from the library) hidden among the sofa cushions. Like a humble rat I often find myself scurrying to the section of the library which most people avoid. Graphic novels reek of "nerdy discard", but I cannot seem to get enough of them. They are (sometimes) beautiful to look at, quick to read, and often have stories which reach every genre. I have yet to spend a dime on this "phase" of mine, but I do spend time at the computer utilizing my tax dollars by having particular books delivered to our local library at the click of a mouse. Most of these end up being unripe in character, unpleasant in flavour and hard to swallow. But one cannot go squeezing the books while sniffing their colourful fragrances to ensure a wise choosing. Nor will a quick flip of the pages release the tantalizing odour of a delectable story. Often I will end up taking home a few duds. While the artwork is an integral part of what captures my interest, the storytelling keeps the pages turning. One in particular has kept me especially enthralled. Unfortunately others in the city have found the series equally interesting as I am 15th in queue.

Clamouring into the shoes of a substitute teacher was quite fun. Not that I ever "taught" anything. Most of the division's dollars went into me extinguishing shenanigans and informing teenagers when they could or could not go to the washroom. Breaking the chatter (or the silence after I closed the classroom door) with "Good morning everyone!" was always a rush similar to stepping off of a high diving board. I will truly miss the noncommittal baby-sitting duty. There are not any "gold" stories I can garner from my adventures except when I mistakenly reprimanded a poor nerd and confiscated his handheld electronic device for SECRETLY STUDYING HIS PERIODIC TABLE UNDER HIS DESK. Who secretly studies?? Nobody, that's who. I will carry to my deathbed that this individual developed a slight-of-hand trick so complex it defied the laws of science.