And I call myself a writer. Wait, do I call myself a writer?
So here it is June 1st and it is a bit of winter outside – cloudy and very cool. I closed the windows and I’ll see if heat comes out of the radiators. Yikes. Tomorrow is the one maybe sunny-ish day, then rain and cooler weather for awhile.
I’m teaching in the Exp___ program at U__ again – the five week English language program exchange thing. I taught it in 2012, 2014 and last year part-time. I’m doing two classes: part-time in the mornings and full afternoons. It is a very busy program and some of the students are only 18 and I have whack of those students in the afternoon and EEEEEK and there was complaining and it’s dramatic and all sorts. Sigh. The morning class is awesome. I’ve also just started teaching a one night a week course at Langara. Eight weeks. It is all women this time and they are eager and all have a rather low level of English and they just really want to learn. Most middle-aged like me which is usually the case. From China mainly and one from Montreal! Her English is not too bad actually. I think they will gel together nicely. The commute remains dumb.
It is mostly good for me to work. The stress of the afternoon class has felt not worth it but we persevere I guess.
I am not typing out the full name of the program or the university as I don’t want it to show up on google searches. Paranoid probably as I’ve written about it in the past but you never know.
I’ve been having horrible insomnia though every night – I fall asleep fine but then wake up at 3 or 4 am and don’t go back to sleep. Sigh. It’s kind of a vicious cycle. I’ve tried exercising earlier in the day and etc. Nothing seems to help.
Lord have mercy.
I’m about 91% sure I will be taking the gerontology program at Langara this fall – it is a new two year program. Hopefully they will get enough students to run it! It is a bit scattered at the moment and of course that stresses me the heck out. Everything is so chronically uncertain. Aaaargh. I would like to go back to school – the first time would be not too intense and the second year (of two years, Sept-April so I can still teach Expl__!) will have a practicum.
Aaargh on the uncertainty.
Maybe sun tomorrow so a bit of Kits. Pool I guess. Here in Vancouver we wait all year for the sun after months of gray and rain. And . . . it doesn’t come. Hopefully July and August will be better.
Shockingly, the downtown school is offering a free staff yoga evening in a few weeks – restorative with massage or something. I am in. I like yin yoga but have never liked the standing poses of Hatha because I fall a lot, although I know that actually doing it would help that. And then my hands really really shake now and I’m so conscious of that and etc. So I’m hoping the focus is on the sitting/lying down poses. I would do more Yin but yoga studios in Vancouver have really hefty drop in rates – like $25 for a class. Vancouver, especially Kitsilano, is very yoga and lululemon. Heck, the lululemon head office is kilometre or so away from me and I pass it everytime I cycle downtown. Yoga as vastly overpriced yoga wear but I think the thing at the downtown school (free!) should be just great. Mats provided! People apparently cry often in this particular yoga-version because of the massage element or something. So I’ll shake and cry.
Oh the downtown school I’m not there at the moment (and even when I’m there, I’m barely working) but do get the e-mails. Apparently students are complaining because other students aren’t speaking English and the downtown school advertises heavily that they prevent this. So I e-mail back, uh, the students are constantly speaking their own languages in the student lounge. The exception is for them to speak English so maybe they should get a monitor in there. This did not go over well with the boss who wasn’t fired right before Christmas. “Do you tell them to stop when you are there, Karen?” was the one line e-mail from the boss who wasn’t fired right before Christmas.
I meant to offend no one I wrote back. Didn’t hear back. Oh downtown school. But I mean really.
My U_, boss told me I am quirky. You have to admit Karen that you are quirky, he said. So I admitted it, ha. Yikes, I’m 52 years old and still don”t like myself or feel settled that who I am is okay. That quirky is okay and etc. If not now, then when. When when when and finally, when.
Interesting. I was walking to the bus stop this morning and I sensed that my boss would be driving by and pick me up. This has never happened. And yet there he was! We had a lovely conversation on the drive up. Weird how we can sometimes sense these things.
Roseanne went nuts and photos of Drake in blackface went quite public. Neither of these things do I understand.