The first term of my teaching career is over. My first ten weeks on the job. Well, not entirely, since I did spend seven weeks in the same school for my practicum. But the teaching and administrative load has doubled or even tripled, and more often than not, I find myself dead beat at the end of the day, with nary enough energy to do anything but crawl under my duvet and sleep till dinner. I try to read, and I have, with some success. It's tough though, most of it's done walking to the bus stop in the morning or walking home in the evening, and never anything longer than 300 pages. Too much commitment.
I've said this before and I'll say it again. I need to exercise. This is a resolution I need to keep- that when my pay check comes in next week, I need to join a gym and get myself back into fighting condition. The last time I stepped into a gym was in 2005... I've never been one for the cardiovascular stuff- can't standing running or, God forbid, the stair-master, but I do enjoy the weights. I need to find the discipline, dig deep, and go back to regular exercise. My mum, surprisingly, is the extrinsic driving force. She doesn't want a fat son, not because its unattractive (that's me), but because she knows as well as I do that spending the next six years collapsing into a semi-coma after work every day's not gonna bode well for my health. It's time to stage a comeback.
It's time to play on my own terms. You're fine. I am envious of you, of your ability to juggle so many things, of your ability in your medium. But I have weapons of my own. I don't move in the same circles and I don't want to, though many times, it seems, looking at you, that is where and how success is made and defined. I want to play on my own terms. My God. When did I start playing defensive? I dictate the pace from now on. Concentrate. Focus.
The morning after.
It's passed noon. I have lessons to prepare and I am surfing the net aimlessly. I am weak.
