Why I'm Here

Anyone who knows me knows why I'm here, creating this blog at 3am, when I have to be on a bus with teenage track athletes before 7:30am. I have much to do. . . and it's not about nothing. I have end-of-semester grading to do so that I can finalize my grades along with the responsible, normal people on Monday during school -- and not in the wee moments of Monday night, just hours before starting a new semester with new classes. What is it that makes me want to do ANYTHING but what I need to do? I am here accidentally, rebelliously, and possibly even timidly. This is neither my realm nor my domain (though the domain name is mine now). No where does there exist a life goal list -- or even a "daffy desire" -- having anything to do with starting a blog. But I love to write. And I have been told on occasion that my writing is somewhat skillful and remotely amusing. Of course this is by the students over whose grades I have control, but I can sense their sincerity. (You can, too, right? Right?!?!) These are the same cherubs who think I should go into acting. What they don't realize is that I never could find a more captive (literally) audience than a classroom. I definitely can compete with my white board. The window, on the other hand, gives me a real run for my money when something amazing is happening . . . such as when snow is falling, or rain is falling, or leaves are falling, or children are falling (in the courtyard below my classroom), and I even think, some days, that I am one-upped by the fact that air is falling. I like to forget those days. I probably will want to forget this day as well. Debut performance done. Close the curtain. {No, really, close it. I need to go to bed. Where the heck are the tech people when you need them? Would you please shu...}