To Teach, or not To Teach

I'm scared. Again. I've sent off my PGCE application form for my referee to fill in his section, and once thats done, I'm done. I will send it in and be officially applying for another course at university. And I don't even know if its what I want to do. It's another option, and one that will open more doors for me. Which is great, really great. But do I want to be a teacher? Do I want to go into work every day and deal with hormonal teenagers, angry at the world for cutting them a raw deal and try and let them see through literature that they are not the first kids to feel that way; that they are not the first generation to suffer and to feel ostracised. But then no teenager wants to hear that do they? They want to feel like the only ones who've been done wrong by.

Anyway, enough of that. I've booked flights to go to Hull for a weekend, the end of the elections weekend. March 5th to 9th. Batman is running in the elections and I want to be there for him. I'd rather be there for the whole thing, the lead up, the campaigning, the whole shebang, but as it stands I can't afford to be. So I'm gonna be a good girlfriend and be there for the last day of the elections, so I'm there for the results.

If I'm dating Batman, does that make me batgirl? Or someone else?

Every time I see anything to do with Paris, I become even more convinced that it is somewhere I would like to live. Change that, Love to Live. I would love to learn how to speak french fluently. Love to learn the ins and outs of the city, the backstreets. The secrets that only locals know. Even in a movie that is set in Paris, but all we see is inside buildings and streets that could be in any city in the world, I still get this urge to move there. Just up sticks and go, break away completely and be myself, by myself, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Blue Monday

Each day brings a new dawn. But it always brings another sense of waste. I wake up, go to work, apply for jobs I know I either have no genuine chance or interest in getting, come home, spend my evenings on the couch or in front of a computer screen, killing time. I know were I in England that my days wouldn't be much different but at least I'd have people to talk to, people to see.

Today is "Blue Monday". Officially the day of the year that people feel more depressed than any other day of the year. I have to admit, I felt worse earlier this weekend than I did today but I can understand why today might get people down. Third Monday of January, Christmas is over, all that you have to look forward to is more dreary weather and that awful made up holiday in February.

On a random side note, I just discovered that Keith Barry was presented last night with the Merlin Award of Mentalist of 2009. Go Keith!

Post 100!

Never thought I'd get to this post, but I guess I did. Now, what to talk about??

I'm just back from being in Hull for two weeks and already being back is taking its tole. Four days and I'm wanting to be back there already. Each time I leave it gets harder than the last. I'm craving so much junk food its not even remotely snacking. It's pure out bingeing. And every time I come back I come up with all sorts of great plans and ideas for getting me back over there, permanently, sooner rather than later, but they all fall through. Or I don't have the self confidence to carry them through. I'm so scared that when I get there, things aren't gonna go as planned, or something will go wrong. I guess in short, I'm scared of growing up. I'm scared of taking a plunge and landing on my face instead of my feet.