I had a breakdown this morning. I was planning on marking some work, before going in to teach two new 2-hour classes, followed by another 3-hour class. I'd been bubbling with anxiety over the fact that it was new students for over a week, and it all overflowed in a fairly pathetic crying fit.
Recently the old(ish) adage of "capitalism leaves us all too exhausted to pursue our hobbies" has been going around. I agree with it, because even though I'm able to keep up with most of my interests right now, I have to viciously eke out time. And then on the days where I am really ~productive~, I cap out at 7pm and don't have the energy to do anything worthwhile.
There's a strange and morbid confidence that comes from going to private school. I taught another one of Those students today, and I found the way she talked to me so interesting. She was unfailingly confident in what she wanted, what she thought she could do, and in indulging me with many lurid details of school life unprompted. She derided the borders and the school in general, while also proudly speaking of things such as "The Crypt", the underground common room of the school, which she described as "dark but cozy". This is the kind of opinionated, anthropologistic self-entitlement that you simply don't find among most teenagers.
I never considered myself an ambitious person, but it's a label others have applied to me. I've always been a project junkie: RPG maker, UTAU, fandubbing, conlanging, NaNoWriMo, Bitsy, vlogging... Heck, once I even started translating The Mencius into Esperanto. This blog and my podcast are just the latest in a long list of Internet-based/derived hobbies. But surely this isn't a sign of ambition? After all, they're pretty niche.
The girl in front of me took a bar of Lindt chocolate out of her bag and read the ingredients, and I thought it was a phone.