May 11th, 2006

Loz Cola


I'm getting up to that point where I'm starting to question myself again. And it isn't constant, and I know that it's a phase. The kids have been psychotic all week, I'm new at this, I'm coming down with a cold, and everybody hurts (sometimes). But still, the questions, they persist.

Why am I, a self-confessed lazy sloth, choosing a career which is go, go, go all the time? In the holidays you're planning. Of a night-time you're planning and marking. During lunch there's yard duty!

Why am I, a self-confessed hysterically emotional social defect, choosing a career in which you need to constantly keep your emotions in check and need to strike up warm relationships with a plethora of people?

Why am I, a self-confessed coffee-hater, choosing a career where java addiction appears to be a requisite?

Is it part of some grand plan my subconscious knows but hasn't deigned to inform me? Am I a rank masochist?

Could it be, perhaps, that I'm not really as lazy and defective as I have always held myself to be? I still hate coffee.