What a difference a week (and a bottle of wine) makes

You may have noticed that I took a few days off from the blog. If you follow me on Facebook you’ll know that after the horrendous conference experience where I felt whipped and pummeled (but not in an erotic SM way---not that I’m into that anyway), I went straight to narrating for two days, then came home to a letter from my college talking about how to sign up for COBRA. (COBRA is overpriced insurance you can pay for on your own for a while when your employer fires you and you’ve lost your benefits.) My heart sank. Cancelled insurance is NOT a good sign. Then I checked my email and found out it was confirmed: my teaching contract wasn’t being renewed. What a shitty way to find out though. Through the mail. In a not-nice letter.  

There are lots of reasons for my job being cut, and I justified everything. It’s university-wide; it’s not just me so it’s not personal; the contract could still be renewed in July when the new president takes over. And I thought I was doing really okay with it. Kealoha and I were going to go out to a pizza dinner and I’d be fine…I just wouldn’t be employed.


As soon as Kealoha walked in the door, he immediately hugged me, opened a bottle of wine, and then rushed out to pick up some takeout. I started crying and didn’t stop for about sixteen hours, or until I passed out from too much wine and swollen eyelids.

I kept thinking of a couple of things: 1) This sucks and 2) I don’t want to stop teaching.


Anyway. This is a long and slightly depressing story, but the point is, after the writing conference and finding out I lost my teaching job, I started to feel…I don’t know…free somehow. That now I could do anything (except move--I’ve got my kiddos here and a home).


I had a dream where Kealoha wanted to become a drag queen and sell Tupperware in New York and I was really supportive of that. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him someone already does that. See the bottom of this post for proof.) In that same dream, Kealoha asked me what I wanted to do and I said I want to teach and narrate and write. Which is what I WAS doing. And I want to KEEP doing it. That’s what I took from the dream. Well, that, and Kealoha would make a really unattractive woman, especially when he wears fake pearls.


So I think I’ve figured out a way to keep doing what I love. It means a big change, a new school, a leap into the unknown…but all of this could be really great. I’ll still be doing what I love, just in a different way.


Maybe that’s what I needed anyway. I’m ready to try some new writing; I have some sci-fi and scary stories I’ve been working on. So. After a horrible week, getting really drunk over that COBRA letter, feeling crushed and beaten, I have to say…I’m coming through this okay.


Now I can get back to the important stuff on my blog, like discussing random conversations where people tell me I look deformed, and posting thoughtful reveries on the importance of appetizers. This is my WORK, people. This is what I DO. And all is well.

And now...as promised...Aunt Barbara: