When I arrived at work today, I saw that I had received a care package from my brother. It is, by far the most eccentric (and therefore best) care package I've ever received.
It included finger puppets (from his girlfriend Hollye), which will be perfect for my lower grades roleplay classes. It included various random packages of unusual flavors of tea and coffee. It included what appears to be a late 1800's edition of Longfellow's poetry (it's undated, like many books from the pre-modern era). It contained some hand-burned CDs of music (some of which were damaged, making me think maybe my brother found them on the floor of the garage or somewhere like that). It contained a robot magnet. And it contained a panic button – literally: a button that looked detached from some device, with the word "PANIC" inscribed on it. Oh, and it had some iodine supplements – which I'd asked for, having been unable to find them in Korea, and theorizing that iodine might be part of what might help my post-cancer resistance to further cancer go well.
My brother knows me well.
Work was intense today. I had 6 classes, all in a row. And every single one of them was "new" – not the kids, but the curriculum spots were all inherited from other teachers, as we got new schedules this week and I have finally become truly "full time" again. With every class being new, I was hardly well-prepared. But I knew the kids, anyway, and considering everything, it went pretty smoothly. It's the most intense, full teaching day I've had since before my hospitalization.
Walking home, my mp3 shuffle seemed fixated on playing only sad and depressing songs. But I didn't fast forward through them, I just listened. Not really feeling that sad or depressed at the moment. Just tired.
What I'm listening to right now.
Gossamer, "Memoir."
[daily log: walking, 5 km]