Valentine's Day

I am not a believer in Valentine's Day. I've been known to call it a stupid day, the worst holiday, and the day of black. My joy for the day first died in seventh grade. I had hopes of "going out" with the quarterback of the eighth grade football team. Our mothers worked together. We were friends. He was the person at school I liked better than most everyone else. He never liked me back. In high school, the boy spurned me by calling me "Sharece Maurice" after Drew Barrymore's character in Never Been Kissed. He was not the only reason I didn't like Valentine's Day. As I grew older, I hated the way the day of love was so commercialized. It became such a nuisance.

Today, I participated in the Valentine's celebration with the sweetest group of third graders known to man. I had a lot of fun. The way the kids cared about each other and helped each other have fun almost renewed my faith in Valentine's Day.

Work Wears

I never thought I would be the sort of person who stressed out about work or took work home with me. But as I have switched from job to job in the past few years, I have come to realize that work will always wear on a person unless the person is willing to do a poor job. My mother tends to be a workaholic. My sister and one of my brothers have been known to have similar work styles to those of my mom. My father is a recovering workaholic. With this kind of influence around me for so many years, it's a surprise I didn't work my way to a real career sooner.

My work is wearing on me. I've gotta fix that.