558: January Audition

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Hubs and I went (for the second time) to audition for a local community theater production. What play? Does that matter? Hmmmm……

It was the second time because we had word of the date and time of the scheduled auditions, and went on Tuesday – to find a dark theater, with no humans in sight. So, we called to verify that things had not been called off or rescheduled, or we just made a mistake, and when we finally got a call back, the director made a special effort to include us and told us we could come privately and deliver our minute monologue (and fill out contact paperwork). So we went.

My monologue is about being a schoolteacher in January. Since I got some laughs, I will reproduce it here for you to judge for yourself:

NINE MORE DAYS. It is NINE more days until the end of January – and January has THIRTY-ONE DAYS. Normally, getting to the end of the month is not an issue, even though I am a schoolteacher who gets paid only once a month, on the last working day of the month. But January is a special case, and has been a special case for every one of the twenty-six years that I have been a schoolteacher. You’d think after all that experience, it would get easier, but NO. I actually think is gets exponentially more difficult with added experience.

See – the last paycheck came at the end of teaching in December – about the middle of the month. Then there was Christmas – a money-sucking time if ever there was one, and THEN, there is New Year’s – ditto. And those happen in the first two weeks. After that, there are four weeks – thirty-one days – of sheer endurance.

We are talking peanut butter and crackers, searching in the couch cushions and under the car seats for loose change to buy gas….that sort of thing. ┬áIt would be different if there was a way to earn extra money, but unfortunately, nobody, but nobody wants to see me naked, so it just isn’t happening. *sigh*

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556: Hope

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Every day, I hope.

I hope it will get better, that it won’t hurt so much.

I hope that I will be able to slow down and not be at everyone else’s beck and call.

I hope that I can say no. And mean it.

I hope that I can sleep until I want to get out of bed, instead of rolling out every morning before dawn because I have obligations to meet.

I hope that I make it through the next six weeks of no-money until I get paid again (a yearly problem, and January has thirty-one long, cold, and dark days).

I hope that Christmas will again just pass, without requiring from me efforts to be social that I just do not have the resources for.

I hope and I am chagrined that I still hope.

I hope that the house I currently am spending all my free time remodeling (paint smears in my hair and decorating both my forearms, random punctures, scratches, and broken nails) soon will become a respite and sanctuary – a place of peace and repose.

I hope that it will get better – that it won’t hurt quite so much.

I hope, even when it appears fruitless to hope.Hope-2-570x379

I hope.