Future set of Passion Under the Maples. Source: SimonP
This week I'm searching for volunteer positions in Toronto with demented zeal. And while I should do something meaningful like work in a food bank or man a help line, I find I'm skipping over those positions. And right into things like "giant panda ambassador" at the zoo, gardening, or a docent position at a local museum, The Tollkeeper's Cottage. I have been by the Tollkeeper's Cottage. It's more like the Tollkeeper's Shack, or Tollkeeper's Hovel. And since you have to docent in historical clothing, I feel like your chances of getting an equally historically accurate case of consumption or pleurisy are high. But I wouldn't care - a costume! And the chance to overwhelm any visitors with my tale. For I would be the plucky Tollkeeper's Wife, forced to take the tolls as the Tollkeeper would be too busy with the Tollkeeper's Drinking Problem and Tollkeeper's Brothel Prostitute to man the cottage. Also, the Tollkeeper must never know of my secret passion for the local schoolmaster, although my long walks with Mr. Duffy and our passionate discussions of Lord Byron's poetry have set the local gossip's tongues wagging.
See, wouldn't that be worth the two-dollar admission?
Spinning my tale of forbidden love in Upper Canada (working title: Passion Under the Maples) at least distracts me from wondering why I can't handle the harder stuff. I did try last year, and spent about a month surveying a local food bank. I went on Tuesdays, and every week would cycle through dread and depression. Either I liked the people I interviewed, but felt helpless to do anything for them, or I couldn't stand them and felt guilty about it. I feel like so many volunteer positions end in that feeling of grating futility. And since I'm already spending at least 9-5 on weekdays dealing with people - their needs, their anger, their constant, constant questions - I can only handle spending more if I can do it behind a panda mask.
Please don't judge me.
No comments:
Post a Comment