A new school year, and yet I'm already down to the last few weeks of my illustrious substitute teaching career. As much fun (and mind-rendingly annoying) as it's been, I've decided to move to Chicago, find a job with benefits, and go to grad school to become an art teacher. I'm excited. Of course I'll also be acting and hopefully attending Second City improv school, seeking my fame and fortune, but this time with a backup plan that is also fun.
Anyhoo, I have not been able to get it together this week in any way, shape, or form. I'm lucky I found today's school (and that the teacher left her computer logged in, enabling me to access the internet, bless her!!!). I just went to Chicago last week to scout out jobs and the apartment scene, and it was fun and exhausting. Now I'm back and, as always seems to happen to me post-travel of any sort, I am completely unable to get back in the swing of things. Heck, I can't even find the playground, let alone anything remotely resembling a swing!
I was telling two dear friends of mine that I think I should go to Jamaica or Ireland because I hear that the locals have the same relationship to time-space that I do... Which, now that I stop to think about it, is the equivalent of two people who can't stop cheating on their spouses with each other. We get together when we can, relish every minute together, sometimes fight and then make up passionately, and then, eventually, retreat to our separate corners of the universe. But if time-space is my mistress (is there a masculine word for mistress?!?!) then to whom, or what, am I married? In other words, which part of the universe do I inhabit the rest of the time? How odd. Sort of a mental rolling over in bed after 27 years to see who is sleeping on the other pillow. I suppose it's... Purple? A squiggly line? A big trampoline covered in stars? (Or just glitter?) Maybe a form of time that branches out like trees rather than moving in a straight line? My own reflection? (That last one's probably the most likely, let's be honest.) A big fairy orgy like some Midsummer Night's Dream bacchanal? An orange elephant? The possibilities are endless. I'm not sure that whichever dimension I inhabit is fully aware that I'm there yet anyway. Like me, it must know that there's something very real around, but it can't put its finger on me. Probably best that way. If it's not sure exactly who I am it can change my hair color to suit its mood.
This has been another production of... the inside (or points adjacent) of Inga's brain.
