It is cold, damp and miserable today. The last day of August is here, and it seems like the first day of miseryville as I drove into work with pounding rain hitting the windshield. Even in the afternoon it was cool and wet.
The high point of today was getting paid. Yay, the lovely pay cheque. Yes, as a part time employee the few bucks (Dollars) I have earned are long awaited. Playing the role of the struggling student, plays a toll on the mind and soul (meaning my state of mind beyond my inner self, like the need to buy food), so when pay time comes, I seem to be relaxed a little more. Then it starts all over again in two weeks, slowly at first, then the money dries up days before the nest pay time comes, and I wait, again and again, over and over. Soon this will stop as my worth will grow expediently, and I can focus on just work in my life.
I am debating on whether I should turn the heat on. Yes, it is that cold out. It is cold enough that my nose feels cold. I can feel it on my chest. I am holding back turning on the heat because the cost of electricity has jump my more than 30 percent year, and I am not sure if I want to risk a early spike in my electric bill for next month. Money is tight as I just paid my tuition, and most of my annual bills such as insurance, post office box rental, and other such bills.
The glorious back to school commercials are polluting the airwaves as merchants plug their stock to the soon to be happy parents as the state run babysitters start up next week. I know, to my teacher friends, school is not a place to bring your children for daycare while the working class do their thing and go to work. But, most parents look forward to the respite that public school offers them. Public/private school is the perfect solution for that eight hours of work that grownups need to do.
Driving through a school zone I saw the practice run of crossing guards they alert drives that the kids are coming back. There were some kids marching along too. The children are not happy though, as they are marched off to school because they know that this is not only an institution that helps them grow and prosper, but a place where they are introduced to the harsh realities of life. Their eyes look glassed with disbelief that they are being rounded up and herded off to a cell where they will be programed and trained to meet the needs of society. Oh do they learn.
That is where I got my first lesson in sex education: grade four. Seeing the cartoon hieroglyphs of the female genitalia etched on the metal surfaces of the bathroom stalls was one of the first images of woman that left intrigue and mystery for me. From there my education expanded to unforeseen realms and higher levels of ascension. As my father preached his conservative values to me during my eighth year, dancing vaginas (Vulva) danced around my head as I learned what made girls so different from the boys.
In Canadian terms, we are back to normal. Winter is six months long, and it is an accepted fact of living here: cold is normal. As summer fades, the cold signals the start of the regular season for hockey, school and television. Work becomes normal as businesses gear up for the big spending spree of the winter season—the seasonal holiday period. “Buy, Buy, Buy” ads are already hitting the TV and radio waves.
We have one more shot at the end of summer: the last long weekend of this happy, lovely season. The mad rush to enjoy the moments are being planned out with meticulous care, where one can walk along the shores, bare feet in the sand, and not have to worry about frostbite and snowballs to the head. This festive holiday (BBQs, beer and bathing suites) is only four days away, and only the young will miss the significance of it. The young are so blessed: with ignorance comes the potential of happy memories of the last days of summer. For them, this will be such a glorious time.
NOTE: since the time of the first draft, this post has undergone several revisions: September 1, 2010.