So, anyway, I've become a (more) respectable member of society now. I am a proper (over) taxed, working girl, not exactly working 9-5, but you get the general idea.
I've been at my new job for a measly few weeks and already I feel like I've been working for months, as if the system is trying to keep me down, as if the government is only after my money and as if I should be singing "The International" in bawdy taverns while grumbling into my bitter ale about how The Man is making his profit off the sweat (and hopefully never, tears) of the Working Man's, Woman (Comrades) Back.
Now, this may all seem to you slightly melodramatic, but I cannot think of any other work place that is as dramatic (save, perhaps, Dawson's Creek) as High School.
I imagine most of my readers remember their own high school experience, perhaps some of you even with fondness. For many of us it was three grueling years that one had to endure before one reach "adulthood". Like some sort of rite of passage, more painful and slow than hopping one-legged through the Amazons while fending off killers bees with a bonnet. So now, I am a proper "adult", and for the first time in many years, not a student. And it is in one of those cases I can say, with the utmost certainty, that the grass is not greener on the other side of the Teacher's Lounge door (though, it does for some inexplicable reason, quite often contain some sort of cake).
I used to think that I was young and hip (though the word "hip" should in itself have set off alarm bells), but I realize that I have very little to common with the Beliebers of this generation. I can hardly understand them at all. In some regard I am thankful for the void that separates me from the "kids these days", but on the other hand it makes me feel more older and more cat-lady like than ever before.
That is probably why I am bringing a second picture of my cat to put on my desk. As a warning sign.
