At the end of the cul-de-sac

This really isn't a story. Nothing much happens, just a lot of description. Besides, as anyone who knows me well will notice, it's almost all true. Still, I'm trying to write and post frequently so enjoy the description I guess.

The roar is deafening. I stand there thinking “if you would just shut up, even for only two minutes, I would give up one of my kidneys”. How the fuck has it come to this? And by this I don’t just mean the seething mass of adolescences that pulsates before me but also the fuse in my brain that seems to have become increasingly short until it is the length of a burnt wick of a candle stub. When did my biggest ambition in life become nothing more than to experience 30 seconds of continuous silence? I didn’t suffer from Dangerous Minds Syndrome when I signed on –rural Quebec isn’t exactly where you’d go if you wanted to melt the hearts and mould the minds of future hardened criminals- but I certainly also didn’t think I’d be the type of person who’d be screaming at the top of her lungs at a group of rowdy youth. Then again, I never thought I’d live in the suburbs either.
Widen the shot a bit. Drive about 45 minutes to the south, past the nuclear power plant, for which I’ve been give iodine pills in case of emergency –like some salt’s going to fucking help if the shit hits the fan- and you’ll see what I mean. Midway through a cul-de-sac, you’ll spot the squat monstrosity I presently call home. Its only redeeming feature is that its’ a 2 minute walk to the Tim Horton’s parking lot where my carpool co-workers meet. Without a car, I’m at their mercy.
Without a car I’m in fact at everyone’s mercy. For some reason they have yet to discover sidewalks here and anyone caught walking may very well be shot on sight or at least drenched in a shower of icy cold slush followed by a few hurled words of abuse and some strange looks. However, without a car, you WILL be walking as busses are as of yet similarly undiscovered.
Despite the fact that it’s a pretty small city –though my darling students perceive it as a thriving metropolis, which it is in comparison to their town of 300- things always seem surprisingly far away. For instance, the recycling depot is about an hour walk from chez moi. I know this because about a week into my stay someone stole my blue bin. I considered taking a taxi to pick up a new one but that seemed a slap in the face of my effort to be environmentally conscious. A blue bin is an absolute necessity here because they don’t simply shove a few flyers through your mail slot, they actually attach an entire bag of them to your door knob. I was complaining about this practice to one of my co-workers and he looked at me quizzically, “you mean you don’t spend Sunday browsing the deals?” I really tried to believe he was being sarcastic but that’s a form of humour rarely practiced here, as I’ve discovered after unintentionally insulting almost everyone I meet.
That isn’t to say people aren’t congenial. Almost everyone I meet has tried to set me up on a blind date. It seems that at 25 and still single I should be about ready to mate with a turkey baster. The idea of dating isn’t entirely unappealing but everyone who’s still single reeks of desperation. The only reason people stay here is so they can afford to buy a huge pick up truck, get married, buy a squat block of a house and raise 2 or more children. Anyone who harbours any other desires has long since moved away. One of my blind dates told me he tried living in a big city briefly but that he didn’t enjoy it because he had to drive too far to get places. I asked him about the public transit there and from the way he looked at me I wondered whether I’d messed up my French. Then he told me he worked for Petro-Can. I kind of stopped listening after that.
Suddenly the bell rings with the fervour of a bomb and I am blown back into my classroom. A sweaty mass of bodies push past me, ramming graffiti covered desks into walls as they go. I have to step out of the way to avoid being trampled or groped but I am still close enough to hear a tall kid sporting a basketball jersey and a crew cut nudge his friend and say “hey that class was pretty fun”.