I called in yesterday and spent most of the day just being lazy. I did not attempt any projects. I did not work out. I took care of very little business. A part of me was glad of that, but I did feel twinges of guilt throughout the day. Then I went and played some board games with some former co-workers, now friends. Too often the subject turns to our former place of employment, which sadly did not do right by many of us. But the bitching ended in a quiet catharsis.

Lane was in a terrible wreck recently and posted her reactions. I am impressed by how strong a person she is and how outstandingly clear her expression through writing is. Most of the time, what I write is muddled in comparison to what I am thinking. Probably the result of a too-noisy brain. I need to go to Korea and spend a week being a monk like BB did.

Or maybe when my father takes me fishing in Canada, I will have a similarly quieting experience. To be honest, the trip as he describes it intimidates me. He wants to fly my brother and me into a remote part of Canada (a place so removed from civilization that in order to get more supplies you have to throw a plank onto the lake and wait for the outfitters to fly over) in order to… fish. It does sound serene and meditative and even rather macho.

The problem is this: the last time he went up there with my uncle, who is also a man’s man, he was attacked on his way to the outhouse by a bear. Mind you, you are not allowed to bring firearms in your weight-limited supplies, only what you would need to fish. He survived because he is that sort of person. I would be likely mauled, possibly dead, had it happened to me.

Normally, I consider myself a capable person. Maybe even somewhat tough. But I am frightened by the prospect of testing that mettle against the Canadian wilderness, even with my Crocodile Hunter father nearby. It’s like those lyrics from that Mighty Mighty Bosstones song, “I’m not a coward, I’ve just never been tested. I’d like to think that if I was, I would pass.” Except that I am kind of a coward. I can stay cool in a crisis, but only if I know other people are relying on me.

I have been invited via Facebook to several of my high school cohorts’ graduation parties. While I have a certain rapport with them each, I feel like it would be awkward to have me milling about at their party. As I recall from my own mixed company graduation party, the old folks hung with each other while the young folks played and … well, flirted. I like to play, but that would not be appropriate, and I certainly would not want to cramp anyone’s style. And I am not really familiar with any of the older folks in these kids’ lives. They *are* kids to me now, I realize. Even though they are mature and competent, their perspective is different than mine and our relationships reflect that.

Am I an ass for not attending these just to show support? A little, maybe. But more likely, they were just being polite, or possibly even negligent, by including me on the Facebook invite list. Social networking via the web is a sticky wicket, methinks. Without context or expression, it is a great deal easier to offend, even with good writing skills.

I was solicited via email by a woman in Racine who would like me to teach private lessons in stage combat to some children. I think I am qualified, but it still unnerves me a little. Am I in that position now? A private instructor? I suppose I must be. If being paid is the line between professional and amateur, I am straddling that line.

I was paid after some delay by the KUSD for my assistance with their fight productions. I feel strange taking money for something that has always been a volunteer position. My justification is that it is simply compensation for the gas money I had to spend and that I now hold professional qualifications. JD, with whom I have not always had the best dealings, worked diligently to be sure I was paid. When I see him next I will thank him.

I always feel badly when I think about the relationship I have with JD. On one hand, I think he’s a sweet fellow who has many of the same interests as me, and who has been a good friend to my good friend, Dan. But our professional personas do not mesh. I maintain a detached but friendly atmosphere of discipline in my classes. While I think JD respects that, his more lacksadaisical relationship with some of my students (unintentionally) undermines that discipline.

So, I act more strictly to be an example, and that makes me appear to be a slave-driver or a prima donna, neither of which accurately describe my approach. Sadly, though, both he and Dan have such different teaching styles to mine… To be honest my teaching style, whether it be ego or simple incompatability, does not allow for another head honcho. I am open to suggestions, but when I do not accept them, feelings are hurt. What can I do? My responsibility is to the safety and personal growth of the students first, and to the creative input of my fellow instructors second. That is a principle I will never compromise.

Grandiose as it sounds, it is the truth.