the hum of heating

I don’t know if this is a good development or not, but since the new year I have been sleeping a lot less.  Part of it is unfinished business – exams, unread books, articles – but some of it is just hooking up to the world again.  For the general part of my winter vacation I disconnected with the world and forgot all the ties that kept me there.

It was fabulous.

So fabulous.

I’ve dreamed up of a million things (of course, with my commitment and attention span, I have none of them written down) and thought of a thousand places to go.  It turns out that I need to stay here for a while before I can think of going somewhere else.  That’s kind of a bummer, but getting back into things (“hooking up” as I said earlier) has been a dual process of self-pity and excitement.  Yes, there’s a lot of work in front of me, but do I love it? Yes. Do I yearn to do it every day? Yes. (Okay, not every day).

I love being at York’s campus in the build of winter. I love the crispness of the air and the malleability of the weather – the quick turns it makes from blindingly sunny to softening snowfall.  This keeps me so occupied mentally that I find it hard to settle down and do something worthwhile.  Huckleberry Finn, of course, is worthwhile.  It’s fantastic, really.  But I just don’t feel as though I currently have enough patience to sit myself through another 140 pages of it.

Unescapably, I will and I must, if only to save myself from certain guilt and remorse come exam time.

This summer’s plans (still in the drafting stages in my head) are quickly evolving from international escapades to bogged down school work and work overall.  Thinking about quitting the money work (at the bar) is tempting, but I feel like it would be pushing back against the current that’s sweeping me abroad.  I need money for travel, after all.

I’ve decided to do the TESOL/TESL certificate along with my Specialized Honours of English and Professional Writing – an extra 30 credits ($3000) with which I gain the freedom and the bare necessity to qualify for a teaching job overseas.  I’ve been looking around, and the market for ESL teachers in Canada isn’t bad either, although, who would expect it to be, it being the land of the immigrant as it is.

I guess I should learn Mandarin, or something along those lines.

I just want to stay in school for a long time, although I often nag my boyfriend about the complete opposite.  We’re different creatures, him and I, though – creatures that are built for different goals and meant to come to them through different means.  I try to understand that as much as possible, but it’s difficult when you expect everyone to mirror yourself (that’s the narcissism speaking), or at least understand the main judgements you make in your life.

Editing as a side job without pay makes you really want to write everything perfect the first time, so you don’t have to spend any more time thinking about your phrasing then you could possibly have to.  It makes me want to write like I talk when I get excited about something – cutting myself off in mid-sentence to mention something important and accidentally segueing [sp?] into another equally exciting but similarly incomprehensible (due to the interruptions) point.  You know?

Anyway, I guess you need to put in a fair bit of work to earn a degree, even though everyone says it’s so easy.  I won’t be satisfied barely passing.  I need to be trying for it.  I need to earn it, not just with my money, but with my brain.

I see now that it’s already crudely late (not comparing the past couple of 3-4 am nights, but according to the non-existant sleep schedule that I should be keeping) and I have a tedious class tomorrow morning.  I haven’t gone to this class for more than half of last semester and I’m still doing well.  The man is a holy idiot. I swear to all those administrative masters that are sucking money from my wallet over at York.

Alas. (I really like this word).

In February, hopefully, I’ll absence myself to Moskva for 2 weeks – disconnecting and hooking back up to the world in a mere 14 days.  I’m done trying to fit into the world’s schedule though; that is, without a doubt, one thing my boyfriend has right.  You have to make time to life your own life.  Yes, it’s inconvenient at work and I will probably have assignments due the week I am away and the editing will need to be spread out – but you know what? I’m 20 (for now) and I miss my grandparents and after all, it’s a matter of legal status, so it’s almost important in a way, too!

I’m making time for myself this year.

Love the quiet non-multitude of you that come by.  Need to write more, as always.  But the wires are hard to come by once you’re disconnected, and the freedom that being “wireless” allows is poisonous in the extreme.

Maybe it was meant to be, c’est la vie!



2 thoughts on “the hum of heating

  1. I totally get the fabulous disconnect. I enjoy people sometimes, but having space to process thoughts and make new ones is so invigorating. It is so hard to strike a good balance when I’m out in the world making my life happen.


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