I am dreading it...going back to a mindless routine that is...
I wish the long weekend would never end :(
Ideally, at the moment, what I really want to do is sit in my room all day, turn off my computer (so I don't get distracted), and just read, read, read and read everything I've been wanting to read this break. I don't want to think of all the other stuff I have to do, the jobs I must look for, the resume I must build up, the bills I must pay, the boring work I have to do at the ***, the conversations I must have just for the sake of it, or the false face I must exhibit. I wish someone would just pay me to just live and read. Like one of those summer stipends they give you to go and work, I wish someone would give me one (including room and board) to just sit and read all day. Of course, I wouldn't mind writing them a research paper or developing some kind of curriculum or project at the end....but if I could surround myself with books I love AND get paid so that I wouldn't have to worry about rent and food, I'd be pretty well satisfied. I don't need much money to eat and clothe myself anyway.
I just don't like the thought of having to go and "work", doing something that is not directly related to what I want to do. Like the work in the *** is only fun when I get to search for books. Then I can get to read all these descriptions and reviews. Other than that, I hate making fund lists and printing some long report about which departments got the most books from which sellers. I could tolerate that kind of thing for an hour at most ..but beyond that my brain just cringes and I have to do something drastic to distract myself, including running out of the *** for a few minutes if necessary. Then there is the work in the preschools which is more fun than the library because at least I am touching people here. But even this doesn't become fun when the teachers tell you that you can't get attached to the children, that you have to keep this emotional distance from them. See..that's hard for me to do..because its hard for me to find a balance in these things. I go into the extremes: all or none, there's no midway for me. If they tell me not to get close to the children, then I am as cold as ice and I find it hard to say more than a few words to them. Not because I want to but because that's what I am forced to. Its not easy for me to do at all. I have to tear myself away from them, crying inwardly, and constantly remind myself that I am not their playmate, just a hard, cold adult. Which I am not, but have to pretend to be. I hate pretense. It does nothing but transform you to a mere doll, without self and without feeling.
And now I have to do that all over again starting tomorrow. It's not like I have a choice. If I had stayed at home, I'd be reading all day, without needing to work, but then I'd have to do it within the confines of a box: my room, constatly fearing when my mother would erupt. Here is no better either. It seems like whichever way I look, home or away, I am always going to be trapped one way or another. Unless that is, some generous soul out there pays me to sit in and read, and read, and read, and read. Thank God no one stops you from loving when you read. You can love your books as much as you want. And no one in this world can dare interefere and take that away from you. If they did, they'd be murderers for I would cease to exist.