Very, very tightly wound

Lately I've been feeling stress deep inside my body.

So much so that when I breathe deep, I feel tension like I might strain a muscle. Most days, it's hard to get out of bed. Today in school, I felt like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point. By the end of the day, I had nothing more to say because I knew it would only end badly. I dismissed the students with a wave of my hand.

Driving makes it worse. I grip the steering wheel at 2 and 10 o'clock and yell at children and stray dogs who don't obey posted traffic signs. I'm always anxious, even when I'm driving someplace fun. Especially when I'm driving someplace fun.

I don't really know what I'm stressed and anxious about. There are no rational explanations, nothing that nags persistantly at my brain. Certainly not the upcoming TAKS test, because I really don't care. They'll do well. They've done well for the past two years. But there's this lingering anxiety and feeling of urgency.

Lately, I've been meeting boys and giving my number out like candy. I never call back. The effort it takes to initiate dating seems overwhelming, and I haven't felt swept away in years. A friend and I were talking tonight about how too many men seem attracted to young, flighty women who just want to bat their eyelashes and laugh at their funny jokes. This boggles me. For me, the attraction is only there if a person knows MORE than me... about books, about art, about silkscreening, about fish, about SOMETHING. Otherwise, what's the point? I don't want someone to laugh at my jokes. I want someone to call me out on it, and lead me towards something that will enable better jokes.

Maybe these two things are unrelated. But I doubt it.