Friday, after a 6 hour round of football games, I left the h.s. varsity game feeling... well... sad. And, not because we lost (because we were bitch-slapped and then rolled over and bitch-slapped again) but because while I was sitting with my friend who works at the h.s., her friend (#1 son's teacher) was with us... and pretty soon there was a cluster of gainfully employed teachers who were asking me what *I* do.

"I spend my days gleaning off of the experiences of others..."

Since I'm queen of the dorkolas, I felt a little out of place. And, it got me thinking about the whole "black cloud" thing and my apparent inability to score gainful employment in my "chosen but unchose me" field... and by the time the game was over, I wanted to cry. I miss it. However, I don't know if its ready for me to come back.

That was after a LONG day, as I said before. That afternoon, I took the boys to #1 son's game at our rival h.s. While I'm there, I see this guy that looks oddly familiar. More than that, I swore I went to h.s. with him. And, even odder, I couldn't figure out WHY he was at MY son's football game.

Anyway, so I text-messaged E to ask him if this guy might be so-and-so. While he's telling me "maybe," I walk over (by that time, I was on the phone with E) and I blurt out, "[his name]? [his name]?"

Low-and-behold, guess what?

IT WAS HIM... E's best friend since kindergarden and his children, nieces, and parents. GO FUCKING FIGURE!

So, I introduced myself (b/c I hadn't seen him in 10 years) and his eyes lit up... "Why are YOU here?" we both asked...

Then, a dose of reality smacked Her-Story upside Her-Head. HIS nephew is one of the BEST players on the team. And, MY son was doing his best to keep the sidelines from escaping. Just for once, I want to be able to say, "HA! See MY kid running up the sideline for the touchdown? That's MYYYYY SON!"

And, I was feeling a bit embarassed, I guess you could say... because by the 3rd quarter MY son was the ONLY kid in a white uniform. *sighs*

Then, I kept asking him questions (b/c I had to tell E, who was working, what his friend was up to... eventho he's seen him more than I have in the past 10 years)... Like, "Are you still at [school]?"

Did you get that? He's another teacher. Either God has it out for me and is toying with me to make me cry in public, OR he's toying with me just for fun.

Anyway, feeling kinda odd b/c he probably was thinking I was some sort of nut that fell off the turnip truck, I stopped asking questions, occasionally smiled at his 2 year old, and slumped on the bench to pout for a few.

Then #1 son was sent in... the score was 26-6 (we were winning) and I watched as he pushed, and slapped, and shoved... while the ref kept screaming at our coach, "TELL THEM NOT TO RETALIATE!!!"

Here's a quick reference for you... remember the school I interviewed w/ when #3 son had his surgery? The one that loved me but said I was a "close #2"? Yeah, well THIS is the school...

And, apparently THEIR players were doing everything in their power to start a fight. Not a slap*slap bitch fight but a full-on brawl.

Apparently they're reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally sore losers...

So, I see #1 son getting shoved over AFTER a play is over, and I stand up. I stand up and scream, "TAKE 'IM DOWN" before my brain could stop me. I'm such a road-rage wannabe...

Needless to say, we won (26-6) and beat an undefeated school... (freshman level)... a school that told me I was #2.

HA!
FUCK YOU!

And, #1 son finally got some grime on his glowing white uniform...

But, I had to calm my emotions because that night, the varsity teams were going to play (it was Homecoming).

And, the pattern all season was... freshman win, varsity loses and vis-a-vis.

Had I thought about what would pop out of my mouth right then and there, I would've stayed home.

"Damn, we should've thrown the game so that varsity could win."

But, as I was saying it, and our boys are talking to the coach in a huddle on the field JUST as the game ended, the lights go out.

It was 615pmish.

Apparently, in a bitter move, the school SHUT the lights off, leaving us ALL in the dark. And, as we all fumbled to find the road out... like blind mice in a maze, all I could think of is... THANK GOD this school DIDN'T hire me.

I can't work for people who lack integrity. And, shutting off ALL of the lights (even the pathway ones) was a sign of POOR sportsmanship. (At least they waited til THEIR team was off the field before "conserving energy.")

Anyway, so back to my vulnerable shit... I WANT TO WORK... I WANT TO TEACH... I'm also a very impatient and stubborn person. I know that I need to wait to finish my masters first. Not that it'll do a hill of beans, but it's something that I want to finish. It's not like I'm WORKING or anything.

And, I'm nearing *coughs*40*coughs*... like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally, "I'm going to be 40... SOME DAY!"

So, here I am... STILL waiting to find work while EVERYONE around me that wanted to be a teacher, IS a teacher. After spending time around employed people, I tend to want to spend the next two days crying or being pissed off. And, honestly, I did both. I'm angry, man... and no one seems to understand that.. YET, everyone around me here me keeps saying: "It's not YOUR time," and "You haven't found the right school yet," followed by "No one appreciates you," with the closer, "Maybe teaching isn't for you."

I am going to carry a packet of salt for everytime someone SAYS that shit to me... so *I* can say, "Here, rub this in."

I'm probably more bothered that my h.s. reunion is next year. What do I tell people? "Yeah, well, I'm a professional student?"

It's bad enough that my friends tip-toe around the subject.

And, honestly, what more could be said? I had a job. I lost a job. I can't get another job.

I couldn't even get a low-paying shit-for-brains job at the college. How's that for trying?

So, unfortunately, like every Sunday, I look in the classifieds just to see what's in there. Then, I see it... a school that's hiring FULLTIME for Social Studies.

I can't even mutter the words... so, I'll probably just throw the paper out and forget about it. Because apparently NO time is my time...and the more I try to fight it, the more personal it becomes.