Finally, the meaning of bittersweet

For years growing up I hated the term bittersweet. Actually I still do, but for years it was not a term that I understood. To my mind bittersweet was unnecessary, because I was sure it tasted like a SweeTart, and I loved those so I couldn't understand why bittersweet would be used to describe something that was unsatisfying. I'm sure this also had to do with the act that I tend(ed) to see things in Black or White, Light or Dark. For me the middle-of-the-road has always been an uncomfortable place for me to be. Now, as an adult, I wonder why bittersweet isn't used more often in our modern world where there is so much gray area, and hardly ever any Black or White. 

To me Sundays are the epitome of bittersweet. I love Sundays; the Lord's Day, A Day of Rest. There is nothing better than a lazy Sunday morning (even better when you get to wake up next to somebody!) where you just sip coffee and read the paper, yes the real Sunday paper. There's always brunch (preferably one with breakfast, lunch and dessert, not to mention copious amounts of alcohol), and after that if you're lucky you can laze in the living room or go read or go to the park, or a movie. Then there's dinner and "Desperate Housewives" and "Brothers and Sisters" (I love Sunday TV) or you can go out again (!). This should make Sunday the best day of the week, a haven to renew for Monday.

For the past year and half though, I have come to look on Sunday with dread. It's not about having to go back to work on Monday, I worked weekends for years and it's just what happens to you when you grow up. I dread Sunday's because I hate where I work, and instead of going somewhere I love or at the very least enjoy, I feel like I'm going back to prison, Parole Violation, back to where I have to stay in one room, doing tedious work, without a thank you or an acknowledgment of my skill. My boss runs her school like a fiefdom, where she is a despotic and all knowing ruler. Expressing a different opinion, no matter how well-informed, lands your head on the chopping block.  If you do your job the way you want you aren't doing it right. It doesn't matter that you know your students and what they need, it only matter about how good the Queen looks, and if you're teaching to her habits. So Sunday has become bittersweet. 

I'm sitting here writing this having slept in (with somebody I like...er, well you know...). I had coffee and read the paper (The NY Times and Dallas Morning News, even if it was online) and I went to brunch and ate an amazing breakfast with great coffee and wonderful conversation with a good friend. I did have to be a bit productive and not laze as much, but we're cooking dinner and having coffee again. I need to do lessons for the week but I can't bring myself to do it, not because I want to do my job, but rather because it makes me nauseous. The nectar of Sunday colliding with the shit smell of what I have to put up with on Monday.