kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hot For Teacher Another week has gone by, here it is Friday afternoon and I am praying that the new �miracle� eye cream I purchased will erase all signs of sleeplessness and stress from my face so I can go out and not feel like Mrs. Havisham. So far it has just left me with a sensation similar to what I imagine it would feel like if one applied superglue to their eye area (not that I�ve ever done this but hey, in a world where beauty queens apply Preparation H to their peeps, it can�t be far off). Allrighty then�what else is new? Let�s see�the sub-teaching job went swimmingly. I ate way too many graham crackers, used terms such as, �Please use your words� and �Do you need a time out or can you show me that you can handle circle time without being disruptive?� If only real life were like pre-school, I�d have it mastered. I stayed at C.�s Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday night with the excuse that it was a much faster commute from downtown. Whatever. Tuesday night I had dinner with Mart and Gabe. They meant well, but I couldn�t help but feel like a huge disappointment to them. All their children are busy being married, having babies and being successful and I felt like a huge failure on all counts. Then, to top it all off their son (That would be �The Feet�) showed up with his brand spanking new baby girl in tow. Mercifully he was sans the wife. He was dropping babe off to head to some dinner in the city�he looked smashing. Well, okay, a little heavy in the cheeks and jowls but smashing none the less. Baby was deliciously cute. I couldn�t manage to meet his eyes except for a few times when we exchanged meaningful little barbs that flew right over Mart and Gabe�s heads. At one point I had to actually hold the little monster (er, sorry beautiful babe). The Feet had deposited her in my lap and the wave of sickness that passed over me has no words. I kept thinking, this isn�t right, this isn�t right, this isn�t right. So I finally passed her on to him where she promptly vomited on his nice black suit. Heh. Better her than me. So, needless to say, the evening was a bit rough. It was all I could do not to break down in tears. Lately I have been having more bad moments than good. The longer the joblessness goes on, the more despondent I feel. Something�s got to give. I am increasingly obsessed with the one thing I can control�my body. And I find myself counting out every thing I�ve eaten in the day and berating myself for it, obsessively trying on my �skinny� clothes to make sure they still fit, blah, blah, blah�the whole shebang. You know the drill. I know the drill. Kiwi�s life flies out of control and like a good little recovered anorexic/bulimic she slides back into old habits. Last night I went to Jimmy�s Downtown for our Thursday night festival of man ogling. It was less than interesting so we went to �our� wine bar and there I met a guy. He�s 31 years old (i.e. kind of, almost and adult�well, no, but closer than some), he is a writer (an employed writer), he has a dog, he lives a block away from me�he gave me his number but I don�t think I�ll call him. My life is too much of a mess. And then there�s the whole C. thing. Right. So�tonight a bunch of us gals are playing hostess to four of A.M.�s friend�s from out of town. Guy friends. We�re hoping they brought their wallets with them to New York because we can�t really afford to paint the town red and being out of towners they want to hit all �the spots�. Fine by us as long as they foot the bill and keep us in cocktails and cabs. Okay, I have to obsessively go do sit-ups and push-ups now as I missed the gym today�busy being an indentured servant to the dotcomedy. Yes, it�s true, Kiwi will work for shelter. Let�s hope this weekend pans out okay and I start to feel a little more positve in the ol� mind, body and soul. This is too much fun isn�t it? 4:25 p.m. - 2003-01-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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