Fuzzy friends

The time has come to admit that Sir's obsession with being a Miss is going to cease for about 6 months. Phew!! Being a small furry beast in a big school in the dust bowl of the outer west (yes, a reference made over and over... Sir realises this too!) has drawn to a close for a while, at least in such a serious manner. What an enormous pleasure and privilege to wake up in mufti. The cute green creature pen certainly expresses the inexpressible. Any concerns about identity are wiped away by the thought of loveless interactions with feral children in unknown schools.... and perhaps the school that Sir does know. But... time to relax and enjoy, well.... time.

Coupla dayes.... Coupla Dayes.... beauoootiful.

Thanking the anonymous commenter on the actuality of being upwardly mobile.

Sir now faces the challenge of being downwardly mobile. The time draws near to time off and anyone who teaches will appreciate the desperate nature of the last week in term two before the holiday. Things are strange here in the ranch of western suburbs blues. Sir just read the blog off a friends website and was reminded of the curious thing of beige writing. Sir cannot imaging anything worse than thinking that she was good a writing and, then being not good at writing and not knowing it.

Was it the content? Was it the the strange pictures or was it the almost anal referencing to nothing at all? Sir is confused. A smart friend should have smart friends, ay? Perhaps it is the cruelty of never being taught the correct cultural capital of certain things. Maybe it is because everyone has a bloody website these day.... who knows?

Anyway, in the land of western suburbs blues Sir has 2 more days to go, and then looks into a future of lightness that is the CRT... and hopefully not too much of that! A living must be eeked out, and strangely the feeling of unknown has a curious lightness to it.

Not another bloody Tuesday

Its official. Sir has had it with this teaching game. Exams, crappy kids, ratty contract staff who won't be re-employed. The letters to various close by but not dodgy Secondary Colleges lie in a pile on the lounge room floor. Thoughts of no, not ever, whatever.... fleeting moments of clarity. Would it be bad to leave and never ever return?

Sir has been thinking a lot about identity. Granted, it is the main theme of this blog (she thinks!). Time to go... but what then? How to be a person outside this thing that is created when one becomes a professional. Sir thinks that professional might just be another word for tired, or burnt out, or not thinking. Black times.

Is it a reality of the socially able that being engaged in the endless mindlessness of never ending working is bearable? Or is it that people just get the shits with not having enough money and decide that swallowing corporate, goddess, even worse, state governement spewtum is ok? Its a toughie. But most of the interesting people Sir knows are from many backgrounds and will have a journey into many other planes of being in the future. Sir always knew that the end would come one day. Is this it?