Every so often, we decide to radically change our life. I did this (again) back in February, when I went back to school in order to get my teaching certification. I'm now down to about six weeks before the classes are done, and then I have to get an internship, and if I survive that, I get my Instruction I certificate.

I am not the type of girl who could imagine herself doing this: getting a career. I know, I know--"those who can't do, teach". Only I can at least help kids with their grammar and hopefully open them to why novels and poetry and plays can be interesting, when done right.

But I'm afraid.

My medication is working; it's been working for... two years? Something like that. Wellbutrin, not being an SSRI, seems to work for me. But--and god, I hate myself for even thinking this--there's a part of me that wishes I was still 24, drunk, with violent mood swings. At least I wasn't boring.

But I'm boring now. I'm getting close to 30, I'm married, I own a house (well, paying a mortgage), and I'm becoming a teacher. I'm dull and rarely get depressed; but I rarely feel exhilarated, either. And I guess that's the trade-off. I'm not likely to alienate my husband, not likely to be fired, not likely to attempt suicide. These are all good things--so why don't I feel good about them?