Just thought I'd better give a quick update to say I'm ok and have managed to keep my pedestrian rage just about bottled up. The last entry wasn't meant to appear so Heavy. No hang on, it was - but within the context of that being my last rant about my terrible timetable dilemmas. So for those who've written to check I was ok, thanks for the concern, but don't panic I've not lost it just yet. Ok, quick recap on the last couple of weeks or so...

I had a bit of a travelling ordeal to get back to Lisbon, national express at 1am from Sheffield, change at Coventry, followed by a 4 hour wait at Luton airport, before finally boarding the plane. I landed in Lisbon on the Sunday morning in need of a few hours sleep. But, I decided to forgo the sleep in favour of the football in the pump house. Just had a quick 20 minutes to dump what was left of my case (I think the baggage handlers had an off day, the plastic casing is split into pieces and its now held together by the inner lining) at the apartment and get a quick update of what was happening with the place from Bruno. and an update I got, I even understood some of it – here’s my best attempt at a translation – (house…………everything clean…..Brasilian girl…..), I know the last bit for sure, cos shortly after I was introduced to a distinctly Brasilian looking/ sounding girl called Wal (from Walderice, I was later to discover, pronounced /vow/). well she seemed nice enough, but I had no time to exchange pleasantries – don’t you know there’s a game on? Apparently she didn’t, but I did – so that was that.

after the game, I went back to the house under the illusion that I’d get some work done and have all my classes prepared with time spare to watch a film and get an early night. it was a reasonable attempt, but I failed on all 3 accounts. However, I did succeed in knocking a glass of apple juice over, and when I say over, I’m not talking the kinda ‘whoops a daisy, better get a cloth’ type over. I’m talking ‘sh*t! not my files, oh my mobile – oh noooooo!!! laptop!!!!’ – type over. I frantically blotted the keyboard to get as much up as I could and discarded soggy papers whilst berating myself for being such a clumsy idiot (who says we can’t multi-task?). it was a nervy moment switching the laptop back-on, followed by a hollow sinking feeling as I was met by a blank screen and lack of any sounds suggesting it was working on the problem. I worriedly reset it again, and thankfully this time it seemed to work, keyboard was a bit sticky – but if a sticky keyboard was to be my only punishment, I’d take it. If anyone has Can top apple juice for worst beverage to spill on your laptop, I’d be happy to receive you nominations.

By Monday evening, I’d established that Wal had taken Juan’s old room and either was a bit obsessive-compulsive with the washing and cleaning, or had been employed by the landlady to clean the place. It was a bit confusing and I was too embarrassed to ask. On the plus side I could understand Val’s Portuguese much more than I could Bruno’s and even managed to survive a conversation on beliefs, religion and general views on life. It was a bit of stretch but I think we achieved a reasonable level of mutual understanding. By Tuesday things were getting clearer and I was pretty sure Val’s duties were undertaken in a professional capacity (although I’m still not 100% certain), although it was less clear if these included the offer of meals prepared when I got in from work and impromptu shoulder massages. On the second occasion this occurred, I was sat at my desk, under the pretence of working again, and a little embarrassed by the situation I felt I should offer something in return. I went with the offer of a few English lessons. It appeared I may have over-cooked it, as Val told me to get on the bed. A trifle intimidated I said maybe later and made some excuse about having to prepare my classes.

The rest of the week passed relatively uneventfully, with the exception of some kind of record breaking attempt as I managed to knock over another 2 drinks (beer and another apple juice) in my room on consecutive days, bringing my total to 4 drinks in 5 days including kicking a glass of water over at Mikey’s before leaving for the airport to cap a performance even James ‘Dropper’ Prigmore would be proud(?) of. Thankfully this trend seems to have been a one-off, and fortunately there have been no repeat incidents – touch wood. Talking of woods, it appears I wasn’t out of them yet as far as my keyboard was concerned, being haunted By a sticky ‘x’ key with cupid aspirations – scattering anything I attempted to type with a smattering of kisses. Awh cute!! But, not entirely desirable when you’re trying to type student reports. After cleaning under the keys with a damp tissue, I thought I’d cracked it, but after a few blissful days of gremlin free typing, the same fate now seems to have possessed my Caps Lock key. The annoying yet harmless enough kisses in my typing had now turned to the barely comprehensible babblings and manic SHOUTY outbursts, that brought to mind the winos I pass on my way to work, sat out on the same doorstep, day and night, their bloodshot eyes competing with their weather beaten faces to see which can take on the deepest shade of red by the end of the day.

The Caps Lock ghost is proving a little trickier to exorcise, and even trickier to rationalise. It seems to have violent mood swings, disappearing and reappearing with slightly tweaked symptoms without any apparent pattern or regularity. Right now it appears to be behaving itself – but only a paragraph ago it was up to its tricks. Generally, I can type things in word and alter it all afterwards (like this), but when I’m on messenger people think I’m joking “SorRY, I sEEM tO bE hAViNg pROblEMS wITh my CAPS LoCK kEY” –not sure why but people seem to think this is amusing?

Bye for now, and If you see me on Messenger, I’m not SHOUTING OK????

Howdy, (Probably should have been the greeting for the last post to be fair, but I've never been big on punctuality)

Ok, so I'm back in Lisbon, and back into the teaching with a rather unpleasant bang. It was a shock to the system after over 2 weeks away from lessons and planning, but I'm now back to my droid like existence and seemingly endless cycle of commuting, preparing, teaching and sleeping (Oh here he goes again.....WAIT!!, before you hit the exit button, let me do you a deal - If I get it all out of my system this time, I promise I'll make this my last rant about my workload, schedule and oh so terrible life-style...Agreed ok). It's hard not to moan about it when it seems to be all I do a lately, but trust me I'm tired of listening to myself, so I'm sure the poor souls around me must be.) I hate what I've become, I find myself trudging to the Metro at 7.30 in the morning, spitting venom, plotting my revenge against anyone I can pin this heinous travesty of justice on. And woe betide anyone who has the temerity to get in my way, loiter on the pavement too long, block the escalator, push in the bus queue. Merely existing and being out of the house is enough to get you on my hate list at this hour, and no one is spared my mental wrath, man, woman*, girl or boy, even the elderly, disabled, and downtrodden (who have a disproportionate presence on the list for their particular abilities in the loitering and (ma)lingering disciplines). To anyone who knows me, this will hopefully sound completely out of character (I pray this is the case or have I been deceiving myself all along?) So where does all this sudden hatred come from? I find myself wanting to blame someone, but as one of my favourite Beck songs goes, 'It's nobody's fault, it's nobody's fault, but my own'. Ok, so the odd timetable review along the way wouldn't have hurt, but essentially I've accepted my current timetable, and heavy workload with the goal of easystreet in the future, which should in theory make the present easier to deal with, but it doesn't. 

(* - In the spirit of reporting accuracy I feel the need to confess that I have been charitable enough to spare the odd attractive female from my anger -and they have at times been known to reduce the inner rage, or at least distract me with thoughts of what never would have been)

How do I explain this Jekyll and Hyde-esque switch in personality then? Well, personality is the key word, and mine just doesn't sit well with this kind of life-style. It breaks down like this;

·                         Commuting - Whilst talking to Damien, (a kindred spirit in this TEFL struggle) he relayed an observation he'd made at one of his reviews that most people hate commuting, not exactly a revelation granted, we try to make it as tolerable as possible by cocooning ourselves in books, magazines and I-pods, but nobody would claim to be having the time of their life  - (not even that mentalist who collects useless discarded things in a shopping trolley and trudges his was around Cais de Sodre - hang on, maybe he is - he doesn't have to commute? Now there's an ide....) - In fact I'd say the majority hate it, and tolerable is as good as it gets, and most people do it twice a day. But when it's about 6 times a day, the petty annoyance can evidently multiple into seemingly irrational inner rage. I once worked out that on certain days I spend more time commuting than teaching (all that time I could put to better use, and time is the issue) - looking on the bright side it does allow me to get through a fair few books and give me chance to listen to my ever-expanding collection of music - mustn’t grumble.

·                         Deadlines (Endless) - although commuting has never been a sworn enemy of mine, his evil cousin 'Deadlines' has always been a constant thorn in my side. I've just never been good with deadlines (gazes upwards recalling long nights at a computer over countless school and university assignments, just completed at the 11th hour, with a slight giggle at the falling asleep in assembly the following morning and a bout of sleep deprivation induced hallucinations for my dissertation - oh halcyon days). I always thought there was something wrong with me? Turns out there is, my personality (there's that word again, all will be revealed). I just can't get down to work til the last possible moment, when it's do or die - many a time I've been pulling a document out of the printer and legging it out of the door having whiled away precious minutes earlier in a countless range of distractions (only today I found myself completing an online English grammar task......for beginners! It did have a lovely drag and drop layout though. ["nice action (got one)"] See what I mean. Despite putting everything off til injury time, I still don't enjoy oodles of free time. The anxiety of a looming deadline doesn't allow me to. Yet I don't get down to work either, I just potter from one distraction to the next. 

                         Early Mornings - The nocturnal hours have always been my saving grace. I've never been too good at working during the daytime, but night time is a different story, not sure if it's the relative lack of distraction once everyone's gone to bed, or the freedom from impending deadlines (other than sleep - which has never been too pressing as an insomniac), but when you feel at your most energised and productive at 2am and you've got to be up at 7am - you've got a bit of a problem.

I could go on, (in fact I did originally, but revised this entry a little), but it basically boils down to time, or lack of free time to be more precise. The majority of my free time seems to be the odd stolen moment between lessons, or guilt ridden evenings when I feel I should be preparing something or other. Saturday night seems to be my only respite from planning or guilt from not planning. I'm not sure where this pressure comes from, but I dread to think if it was a job I actually cared about.

If nothing else this experience has taught me that maybe teaching is just not the job for me, but then I kinda knew that before I set out on this journey, it just doesn't suit my personality. Thing is I probably wouldn't have realised that if it wasn't for some team building exercise we did at work. (For those of you who I've already preached the gospel of personality testing to - you can switch channels now). We were asked to answer a series of seemingly trivial questions, if I wasn't sceptical before, I certainly was after completing it - 'What's this gonna tell them about me, I could have answered many of them differently on any given day?' I naively thought to myself. Then the results came back. I'm naturally a sceptical person, so I've tried to be objective and rule out things like a need to relate to the profile that came back, but I couldn't escape the fact that the report had me pinned. But rather than (as some seem to do) feel restricted by it, I felt completely liberated by it. Suddenly many of the foibles and facets of my character were not me being a freak  , or something odd about me (well not a unique freak anyway, INTP's only account for 1% of the population).  They were just features of the whole personality that makes me who I am. And who am I? I'm an INTP. I cannot understate the effect the report had on me, and I'm not alone. Other people who came out as INTP's have reported similar feelings - cue voice-over..."He always felt different from the other kids at school.....". I try and push everyone I know into doing the test themselves as I want them to have the same experience, but I'm frequently disappointed - oh well if nothing else it's more data. I try to persuade my parents to read the report, but I think they just dismiss it - and group it together with star-signs and other things they don't believe in, I wish they would, I think it might explain quite a lot. (check out the subtle manipulation - nice eh?).

I could go on, but it's gone 2am again, and I've got to be up in less than 5 hours - sorry couldn't resist the last whinge. This entry is nothing like how I expected it to be, I haven't even mentioned bus wing mirrors, new housemates, apple juice, Clube Mercado or Monkey Graffiti, but I do feel it's been pretty cathartic, if a little self-indulgent, not only have I got the Personality stuff off my chest (it was inevitable), but also agreed to no more moans about work - and that's got to be good news for all concerned, that is unless you hang around Cais de Sodre Metro station at 7.30 in a morning.

Good night!!