The End?

I haven't been writing much lately, instead I've been reflecting and pondering. I think that I'm at the end of the line here, living in someone else's home, infiltrating someone's family. I'm thinking more and more about the United States, not because I want to leave France, but because I need to get away from my job. I don't hate it really, I just don't love it, and the indifference and lack of enthusiasm I feel about, well everything, is starting to take it's toll.

If you've never done anything like this, you don't know just how demeaning it can get. I am fully aware that kids can be mean and abusive, and that's fine, until you sit back and say, "Am I seriously taking abuse as a daily part of my choice of employment?" It's even more upsetting, because as I start to look at other jobs, it seems impossible. I say I'm joking about finding a European Passport, but it's getting a little more serious.

So what am I doing? Sending my resume out to everyone I come across. I guess if I don't find anything in the next few months, it's back to the Etas Unis, and the beginning the 40 year adventure that is "the real world."

Hm, seems even more daunting/depressing when I put it that way.