Recently, I was texting my mother and catching her up on my business. I had a lot to inform her about, so I was speed typing text after text. Since I was dropping bombshell after bombshell, I was curious to hear what she had to say in response to my gossip. Then, she replied one thing: It is never boring in Erin’s world. She also included the little globe emoji since she has a knack for including emojis that quite literally fit the context of her messages.
Since my mother sent me that text, I have thought about whether it is true or not. I hate to say it, but I think she is right. There is always something happening in my world. It truly is a blessing and a curse.
The thing is, I would love for my life to be a little boring. However, I don’t think that will ever be the case. Although, I guess one benefit of my not-so-boring life is that I have plenty of little tales to share…
Breaking Bread with Old Foes
Upon entering the women’s bathroom one evening, I happened to find a crying girl. I knew by the sound of her sobs that those tears could only have been caused by one thing: a man. After working in a high school, you know what heartbreak tears sound like after you’ve heard them in the stairwells, bathrooms, and by lockers. To my dismay, I soon realized that the sobbing girl was an old foe of mine who I had not spoken to in almost two years.
Although it practically pained me to show compassion to an old foe, I decided that I should attempt to help her. Perhaps it was a bit much, but I said to her, “I know you don’t like me, but what is wrong?” To my surprise, she told me she had broken up with her boyfriend who was actually very good to her, and she realized she made a mistake. In response to hearing this, I said, “Take it from me, there are a lot of losers out there, so if you found someone who treats you well, then I’d go get him.” After that, she asked if we could wave to one another and say hello when we see each other around campus. I told her that sounded like a plan.
I suppose this means we have broken bread. I’m not sure whether she went back to her boyfriend or not, but what I do know is that being a woman is hard enough. The least we can do is be one another’s allies in war.
The Perfect Storm
If you are a dedicated member of the readership, you may remember that time I got Covid a couple of months ago and I didn’t really have symptoms. In fact, I enjoyed drinking a margarita and watching reality television in my bed. It was like a personal retreat from life. Well, I think the Covids thought my ego was getting too big and decided it was time to strike back.
Apparently, it is quite common for Covid warriors to get sinus infections months after testing positive. Despite the fact that everyone else in the world seems to know this, I did not know until a nurse told me in health services on a Thursday morning. As the nurse was investigating my whole situation, she told me that I was in the “midst of a perfect storm.” I wanted to tell her that I don’t need any more storms passing through my world, but I decided to keep that one to myself. She didn’t seem like too much of a jokester.
Once the nurse handed me a paper with my prescription, she told me that I would be feeling better in about three days. Upon hearing this news, I started to clap and exclaimed, “Oh my gosh! I am so excited! I haven’t been able to breathe normally for days!” She looked at me like I was absolutely crazy town, which I probably was after not breathing or sleeping normally for quite some time. She probably doesn’t have many people cheering about picking up a bottle of amoxicillin.
Since taking the amoxicillin, I realized that I had not been breathing, smelling, and tasting at full capacity for almost two months. I’ve made some important discoveries, like the fact that I had Christmas scented Glade plug-ins in the wall – in springtime. I had also believed the lie that I was getting tougher by taking my morning vitamin shooters and not being absolutely repulsed by them. However, I was not getting tougher. I could not taste them. At the end of the day, these discoveries may be humbling, but they are also what I call a medical miracle.
The Platter Thief
My bestie Jake and I have a certain tradition for when we are out on the town for the evening, which is that we order a platter for our return back to New Hall. The platter is a special box of food from the Hill that is hand-curated by the two of us. Our food choices typically consist of weekend staples, the weekly special, and the things that we just never order unless it is for the platter. I must say that one of my favorite parts of a night out is asking if the platter has been booked for the evening.
Although, dear readership, I regret to inform you that we have trouble in paradise regarding the platter. Upon our last two trips to the Hill on a Saturday night, we have been informed that our food was stolen by an unknown individual posing as Jake. Do not worry though, the dear sweet workers at the Hill made us a new platter to replace our stolen one. There has been one benefit of the stolen platters, which is that Jake and I have become close with the Saturday night Hill team. They are a rowdy bunch and they want to seek justice for the stolen platters too. I wish I didn’t have to say it, but these stolen platters are just another reminder of why we can’t have nice things.
Unfortunately, the platter thief is still on the loose. However, bestie and I will not rest until the thief is found.
Something is Missing…
If I am being honest, this semester has felt a bit strange. At first, I figured that I just didn’t know what to do with myself since I was no longer waking up at 5 in the morning to put on a J. Crew dress, throw 200 milligrams of caffeine down the hatch, and teach the kids. When I look at pictures of myself from my student teaching era, I just want to tell Miss Sousa to go take a nap. By the time Friday night rolled around, I looked a bit tattered.
This semester is the first time during my college career that I am not taking an Education course, which has felt strange. I am taking my last English classes, one of them being my Capstone. For my English Capstone, I have been writing about the hard-hitting topics that everyone cares about, like French prostitutes and 19th-century British women taking up smoking. My research for the class has certainly kept me entertained. However, while I was researching through dusty old books in the library, I discovered why things feel a bit strange. Something feels missing…
I miss teaching and I especially miss my students. Despite missing them, my sweet little angels have their own ways of reminding me they are still there. Sometimes when I am running errands in Easton, I’ll see some of them. It’s quite an experience seeing students outside of school. Most of the time, they catch me embarrassing myself in some kind of way, and tell me they’ve never seen me in athleisure before. Then, there are those occasional Instagram follow requests from my angels that I must politely decline.
Although it is a little bit scary that my college career is soon coming to an end, returning to teaching is something I am looking forward to. I am fortunate that I am able to say I’ve found a career that will always keep me entertained. I predict I will have some of the best post-grad stories to share, too.