bored comas and the like

1 Sep

Gack.  It is still the Labour Day long weekend and I am all ready in a bored coma.  I sleep too late in the morning which is a part of it too.  Just a general . . .  blah.  Blah blah blah.

The sun went away which adds to the blahs but I hear tell it will re-appear for awhile on Wednesday.  Very good.  Very very good.  Every summer I seem to forget how low the clouds hang, how rainy the rain is and how blah the days become.  I keep meaning to get one of those ultraviolet ‘don’t kill yourself’ lights but never do.  A bit out of my price range at the moment.

So, yeah, I am actually now living off of my savings.  This is something I’ve managed to ward off for the last three years with different teaching contracts or even that church secretary job (which is no longer spoken of).  Employment insurance goes in there too a bit but that is done with now.  Remarkably, I managed to save a bit of money this summer which could tide me over until Christmas but I hate to see the savings go down.

Anyway.  ESL is in its dead season right now.  Well, July is the really busy season.  So, you know, 11 months of the year, dry season.

UBC was grand, grand I say.  Spoils me for anything else.  I think I have an interview tomorrow at a downtown school, for subbing I think.  Kind of unclear.  Well though, because there are fewer students in the fall, there is a lesser need for subs so not sure what is going on there.  But it will get me out and about.

I need a schedule tis true.  But if I get up at 7 am when I don’t have to, then it is an even longer day to fill type thing.  Blah.


And finally, blah.

The Buddhists in my life would tell me to feel the feelings but not be overwhelmed by them.


So dad is still in the hospital – in ER reassessment area says my sister.  When he is lying down, his blood pressure is fine.  When he gets up, it drops through the floor.  I’m glad this is finally being investigated.  He is apparently bored out of his mind and feels like ‘he is in a prison cell.’  I get that but as his friend B. said, it’s kinda like he brought this on himself because he didn’t do anything about his weakness/falling for months and months and months.  If they get his BP under control, his hemoglobin up and home care in place, they might send him home.  If my mom were still alive she’d be out of her mind with worry.  Hopefully there is an afterlife and she is up there sipping a little wine and thinking, ‘So glad I don’t have to deal with that s___ anymore.”

Hmmm, that is still a tender spot, nearly nine months on.  I keep checking to see if it is still a tender spot and alas, yes.

I might have an evening class to teach again at Langara College starting in a month but that is very very up in the air and not a great deal of money of course.

After years of sniffing around at another careers, I think I have to stick with this ESL teaching thing for awhile.  I may say differently in three months when I haven’t worked in, well, three months.  I AM ALMOST FIFTY (well a year and a half away).  How does that even make sense.

“You need to get into BC Housing,” says T, 800 times.

“You need to get on the wait list.”

Yes, yes, I say.  And I don’t, preferring to pay nearly a grand a month for a small abode near the beach.  Like I can walk to the beach, the beach, the beach.  Peaceful and such.

“How long will you be able to continue to afford living there?”  asked C.

“Three more days,” I said and popped an Ativan.

The thing is, here’s the thing.  Here is the thingy thing.  I could move to a ‘cheaper’ area but would only save about $200/month and then I’d have to consider the moving costs and the emotional distress and all sorts like that.  So, yes, BC Housing list I must get on.  I wouldn’t mind a place with a roommate but one must be careful.

I AM ALMOST FIFTY.  I called the barium meal people because I forgot the day of the barium meal (Wed, 8:30 am, friggin North Van.  no eating or drinking before).

“You are a 49 year old female?”

“FORTY EIGHT!” I shouted.

I sensed the woman on the phone was thinking, ‘Whatev.’

“What happens is we can do less and less as the years go by and then we go into a nursing home,” I said to M today. I happened to show up at lunch time.

“You know it is meal time when I show up,” I said.

“We are going to start eating randomly or things like lentil loaf and definitely more fish,” said M.

“Unemployed writer type people who colour in art therapy are often shunned where they live,” I responded.

Then Scrabble was played.

I played a kind of obscene word.

“I am so embarrassed,” I said.

“It’s a part of the human anatomy and I quite enjoy mine,” said M.

I lost both games.

Okay, so I’ll keep the wee wee tiny fanbase posted on:  a. the barium meal (really they call it that) b.  the father unit c.  my unemployment d. bored coma.

Oh and the BC teachers are still on strike.  The government is being evil about it.  So no school for public school kids.  As such, they will be more underfoot.  So be careful out there.





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