Friday, September 10, 2010

I am exhausted. And on my second drink. And exhausted. (this post likely won't make any sense.)

It's been two weeks since I left Valley Forge.

(There, I can say it now: Valley. Forge. or VF. or VFMA.)

((I am sure there are many less polite names for it as well.))

For as much as I bitched about it - and believe me, I did way more bitching in real life than I did on here - I managed to never mention the school by name.

(seriously, go back and look. I'll wait.)


And now that I can mention it, I can say: I miss it.

I mean, I knew I would. I knew I would miss my guys and my coworkers - you may or may not have gathered that from my last post - but I didn't realize quite how much.

(hint: it's a lot.)

I guess I expected that some of the blow of being separated from my work family would be softened by getting to know my new work family. Problem is, they don't feel much like family. ("they" being the new school.... who will just be refered to as "not Valley Forge".... or NVF, for short.) And even if they were, I am clearly the misfit foster child.

Because seriously? I do *not* fit in.

I always knew I was a little outspoken. Maybe a little too honest. Never really had a filter. Definitely too snarky. And generally a little bit of the rule-breaker, boundry-pusher, I-don't-give-a-shit-what-your-policy-is-if-I-don't-think-it's-in-the-best-interest-of-my-student type of employee. The thing is: that worked out okay at VF.

I had my own little band of misfits who - apparently - understood the misfit in me as well. I didn't have to explain myself. (most of the time.) I didn't have to apologize. (okay, I chose to a few times though.) And I could drop the f-bomb in front of my boss. (who would then drop it in return. (true story.))

Where else do you find that?

(second hint: not at a public school.)

The thing is: I am a damn good counselor. I work hard. I go the extra mile. (or ten or ten thousand - whatever it takes.) I care.

But I am also a snarky, foul-mouthed, rule-breaking bitch.

(I say that in the best way possible.)

I can't help it! I can't be appropriate! I can't be professional! I'm just not effective that way.... think Carrot Top without the props....



No one should have to think of Carrot Top.

But really, it's who I am. I know it's unconventional, but unconventional doesn't mean ineffective. For me, it's quite the opposite.

And yet, they have me tucked away in this little cell of an old-school office.

(for real.)

And is that a "motivational" poster hanging on the wall....?


Why yes, yes it is.


(this place needs so much work.)

I'm still feeling pretty out of my element here. Not professionally - I can handle whatever shit they want to throw my way - but I have met very few of my coworkers. I get the feeling with the structure of the day here, I probably won't interact with many of them.

Which kind of sucks.

(Although, who knows, maybe they're all tools anyway.)

((and do they even speak "snark"?? Doubtful. They're too busy being all professional and such.))

My immediate coworkers - meaning the other counselors (because those are the only people I know) - are nice enough, but no one really seems to get me. I'm actually not sure why there were so many people at VF who did.... huh.... weird. But, it does make me miss the relationships I had there even more.

Maybe I am just way too unprofessional for the public system. Which means I have to either put up a better professional front.... or I have to bring the entire system down to my level.

Yeah, clearly I will be going with the latter.

On a lighter note though, I made some uber-girly ghetto curtains:

(and got rid of the motivational poster.... because really? don't insult me with your perky wholesome optimism.)

Plus, I tacked up a shit ton of pictures and clippings and things that generally make me feel a little more at home:


(this place still needs a lot of work.)

((it needs some cadets.... and misfit coworkers....))

But, in the meantime, I did happen to overhear one of the counselors sling a well timed jab at the administrative assistant and she replied with a quick "you dirty whore..."

I collapsed in a fit of giggles. Like the consummate professional I am.

(who knows, maybe there's hope for NVF after all.)

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