September 28, 2006
move 'em on, rawhole

This has been one rawhole of a week and I’ll sure be glad when it’s over. My first class of 11 Faiths have turned into a bunch of sneaking, creeping liars & cheats, and two of my students had major anger issues yesterday. Like, China Syndrome anger. I mentioned in the last entry that the tech guy was rude to me; the next day I was approached by several staff who had witnessed the rudeness, all of whom urged me to report it to my department head. So now it’s a Thing, whether I want it to be or not. I guess I just got tired of telling people that it didn’t really matter because my feelings weren’t hurt – it started to sound like Battered Women’s Syndrome, so I gave in & wrote up a report. I find it kind of surprising, as Goneril was at least twice as rude to me on my home answering machine back in my first year. I feel hardened to this sort of thing I suppose.

But there have been several good points to the week. My 11 Willows don’t hate me despite the punishing pace of our Scottish Play Unit. Dirk called of his own free will. And despite having to cancel Saturday’s dancing plans with Scherezade, we’ll be pubbing with Sula tomorrow night. So that’s okay.

Blake has started to tote my jewellery box around, now that I’ve forbade him to touch my perfume, my deodorant, my tampons and anything else I keep on my dresser. (He ignores all of those edicts, by the way. Obedient he ain’t.) Normally I’d just confiscate the contraband, but I’m torn about this. For one thing, there’s nothing of value inside, as I own only one piece of real jewellery that I don’t wear and that’s in my comic book stash. For another thing, it’s a Winnie the Pooh box, and like any 2-year-old, he’s been conditioned to snatch up Pooh Bear items. For a final thing, it’s pretty cheaply made and probably better off carrying around his wee plastic trinkets than my cheap metal trumpery.

I’d get a new, more grown-up box, but then I’d have to confront the fact that I have nothing but trash to store inside it. What’s the point of getting something sumptuous to store 4 odd earrings, the crappy plastic unsanctified rosary I made with Preacher a decade ago, the three necklaces I like and can wear to work, and the leather collar with wicked metal spikes that waits for another night at the Garden? Plus other random crap, like dollar store Mardi Gras beads and the garter the Boy wore at our wedding. It’s really not a collection that’s worth a nice case.

Hm. Kind of like me, come to think. So this is why I put off buying new clothes.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 9/28/2006 07:36:00 p.m.

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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*