It has been three months since I moved into my apartment. It feels like longer than that. I am happy with what it is and where it is. It's not perfect. The rent is kind of killing me and sometimes the neighbors downstairs are loud at night, but it more or less feels like a house rather than an apartment. It's convenient. My girl's school is right around the corner and it's a just a ten minute drive to get to work. It looks like a home, not a stop along the way or a collection of junk someone dragged home from Goodwill. It's home, for now.
I don't know why I'm already worrying about my next move. Not necessarily house-wise, but life-wise. I need to find a job that actually feeds my bank account as well as my ego. Teaching is fun. I love it when students tell me they feel like they are really learning something. I can see their progress and it makes me feel good to know I've helped guide them a little. Emotionally it has been a very sustaining experience for me, when I sometimes feel like so much else of what I do is not always so constructive. I mean, I identify myself as a teacher. I don't really just forget about my job when I get in my car to drive home every day. It takes me out of my own problems. I like the interaction, even when I feel like I'm too tired for it. I think I make myself tired a lot these days mulling over things I can't change or make happen faster.
I'm here for the rest of the academic year. After that? I don't know.
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