I hate Sunday nights. They always give me a little bit of dread and anxiety. Even when I wasn't working at school, I always had a vague worry in the back of my mind that I should be doing homework or something.
Nowadays, of course, I have TONS of homework and other things to do. Do I give a shit?
I finally graded the last two sets of homework papers from before the break. I don't even have a count of how many I still need to do. Way too many, that's what.
Fucking daily English homework. I can't even really complain; if I had taken the initiative to stay on top of it last week, or catch up over this weekend, it wouldn't be a big deal at all. But I'm a lazy motherfucker, so there you go. Up a homework creek with rising water, and my strength dwindling every minute.
My worry tonight is the bulletin board. I don't think I had enough good papers turned in on Friday to put many up. So I'm thinking I'll give myself a free pass tomorrow in writing workshop and review dialogue with them, and have them recopy their work, get it nice and pretty and perfect for the bulletin board. Really hammer it in. They need it, man, do they need it.
Then I'll have plans done for Tuesday and Wednesday. Sweet! One more minilesson for Thursday, test plans for Friday, and bam, the week's done.
In the evening, I popped in one of my favoritest, cutest movies: Love Actually. I love it! All the adorable people, the cute plots, the humor, even the heartbreak, I love it. Fantastic music, and it always makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Until I snap back to reality and remember the LACK of cuteness in my life at the moment/for the past year and a half. That reawakening always stings a little bit.
I hate when I get into the mode where I'm tired of being single. I get lonely. I want someone to hug me and rub my back and talk to me and do nice things for me. It's frustrating because I will find some person to get interested. It's like I can talk myself into it if some part of me thinks that they might be interested. Seriously, it's so seventh grade. Anyway, things very rarely work out for me in that regard, so I know not to get my hopes up. But that seventh-grade romantic idealist inside me holds out just enough to stay invested. Cuteniceboy and cuteteacher are all well and good, but hello, it's never going to happen. I'm not ever going to do anything to see if anything will or not. So shut up, my inner angsty-poetry-writing-teenaged self.
I need to confess something only slightly related to that: I'm totally excited for Miss Congeniality 2. It looks funny and fluffy and I think I will actually try to see it. Movies in the theater are a big deal for me, you know. I've gone to ONE since September, so you know I'm serious.