Changing it up

You can't say that civilization doesn't advance, however, for in every war they kill you in a new way.

--Will Rogers

As I write this, I have one cat in my lap, trying to simultaneously climb onto the keyboard and steal the hair tie around my wrist, and another in a corner somewhere, most likely puking or recovering from puking. It's been about 8 times a day since Tuesday morning. Yup.
Yes, I'm a horribly person for not bringing her to the vet, but we were kinda hoping it would pass . . . you know . . . and save me $200. No such luck. Still flitting around, chasing, playing, and snuggling . . . just puking . . . a lot.That vet trip had better work miracles. I'm about out of carpet cleaner -_-

Be ye warned: those of you wanting pets, people aren't lying--it's freakn expensive . . . and messy. Fun and lovable, but oh my goodness work.

Really, I'm not posting to talk about the cats; they just happen to be foremost on my mind. Oh the puke  . . .

I'm going out on a limb here in the next three months. Those of you who know me know I do not like limbs. I'm a feet on the ground kind of person. Flat ground. With the horizon and path clearly in view. Few surprises. So, this summer, God has put a tree in my path, with me on a limb. Do or die. Leap.

Unless something happens between now and Tuesday, I'm pretty sure I'm not going back to teaching next fall. Not because I don't love the school--my employers are beyond fabulous, the kids and families are wonderful--it's just not me. All through high school I saw myself as a teacher--language arts for middle school or high school. I started college and changed my mind--everyone was doing teaching. It seemed so much more distinguished to be a pure-blooded English Lit major--head in my books, discussing the meaning of life, random hidden symbolism in the mention of stepping stools, the true condition of man, the proper use of the comma--important, life-changing things like that. English Education? What on earth could you do with an education major?

WHY DIDN'T SOMEBODY SLAP ME?!?

Don't get me wrong: I LOVED my major. I thrived in lit class. But what on earth do I use it for?? "Anything with communication," people said. "Politics, law, anything."
I hate to ask, but, were you fibbing just to make me feel better? That wasn't very nice, kind-hearted intent as it was.

All that to say, I have almost finished my first year of teaching, and it's just not a fit. It's been a fun year of learning and exactly where I needed to be right now. It's just not where I think I should stay.
And that scares me.
The job hunt scares me. The only time I've ever left a job is when I already have something new lined up. All my dominoes set to go. Poke, and they're off!
Not this time

I want to try to get into a publishing house. I know I'd start out as a peon, but the thought of being able to discover new talent, to pick up a document and say, "This, this is something special, and you, well, you kid, have a gift. Congratulations. You get to share it with the world." That thrills me. I realize it probably won't be like that--there will be a lot of rubble to sort through before you find the gem, and, often, it's the rubble that sells, fake stones polished on the shelves while diamonds gather dust.
I might not find anything, but, hey, at least I have a direction. I may get there, and I may hate it, but then that just means I get to try something new again.

I like new things :]

Now, if you'll excuse me . . . Cat is retching and I can't find the puke . . . Treasure hunt, anyone?