At the end of the day you’re another day older. And that’s all you can say for the life of the poor. It’s a struggle, it’s a war. And there’s nothing that anyone’s giving. One more day, standing about, what is it for? One day less to be living.
At the end of the day you’re another day older.
Lyrics to a song from the musical Les Miserables. A phrase that comes to my mind all the time.
I chose this path. I chose this life. I love living abroad. So why is it that every job I’ve had abroad has been so hard?
And this time it’s not even cultural differences I’m talking about. I am working on an Adventist campus. I grew up around Adventists. There is nothing about Adventism I don’t know.
And I suppose that’s just it: Adventism. The rules and the regulations and the closed-mindedness and the frowning upon anyone with different ideas. I downright despise the religion I grew up in.
Well, that’s part of it. The rest is the ridiculous workload and the demands on personal time. No two people can efficiently run a 6-grade primary school. We need help. Not to mention now we’re being asked to interview students for next year. I won’t even be here next year.
I shouldn’t write when I am down. I never blog when I am down.
I never blog at all these days. When do I have time?
I miss writing.
I miss home.
I never miss home.
I miss it.