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One Month
Now on Push Button to Eject
Where I talk a bit about my first month of teaching.
This Is Really Is It.
I rarely open my Facebook account, because Facebook bores me. I was about to update my status, though, so I did a quick look as well.
A friend’s post hit me right in the chest:
“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”
It’s a George Bernard Shaw quote.
The thing is, I finally have what I want. I’ve been waiting for this day for five freaking long years, and now it’s here.
But everything’s so meh. Where are my tears of joy? Where’s the indiscriminate hugging of complete strangers? Where’s my heavenly host with their trumpets and harps?
Part of me thinks none of this is really happening. I know it’s true on a mental level, but I suppose nothing has really sinked in yet. I’m still completely flipped. I’m not sure I’m doing this properly.
I’m not even at that point where I’m freaking out because I don’t know if I’m gonna do well. I don’t feel anything at the moment.
It’s more along the lines of, “yes, I’ll be teaching Asian History to sophomores in two weeks”.
That’s it.
Maybe it’ll be more real once I’m in the actual classroom, ranting and raving like a loon while my students feign attention.
For now, though, it’s just me and my catatonia again.
The Shuttle Seating Formulation
Yesterday I tried to manipulate my office crush into sitting next to me on the company shuttle.
I made mental calculations.
There were three women in front of me. Two of them were friends.
A group of three guys stood behind me.
Then, glory of glories, my office crush.
**Who, I suppose I should mention now, is adorable and looks like Harry Potter. He’s so tiny I could crush him in my man-arms.**
I started anticipating seating arrangements, based on my daily shuttle-riding experience. Before anything else, here’s the layout of the shuttle, because I obviously have so much time on my hands.
Assuming that none of them will sit beside the driver, I surmised that the lone girl would sit in the first row (behind the driver). The two girls after her would opt for the second row, because, well, fuck the first row.
Anyway, I decided I would sit in the third row, because then the three guys behind me would want to sit together, so they would choose to sit in the fourth row.
Which leaves my crush.
The last seat on the second row will not be occupied yet, because that’s the jump seat (foldable) and sitting there would be a douche move when there are still two unoccupied seats in the third row.
Which leaves the two seats on the first row, or the two seats on the third row.
As I’ve mentioned, fuck the first row. From experience, I know that a lot of people choose to fill up the third row first. The first row is always the last option.
And it almost worked.
Almost.
The plan worked perfectly at first. The people in line sat as I anticipated. The moment of truth: I was actually stifling my villainous (Paquito Diaz is that you?) laugh as I saw my crush coming towards me.
Mu-ha-ha-
He chose the solo seat on the third row and some bimbo ended up sitting between us.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
Me, 2008
Don’t remember if I’d posted this before, but that’s me connecting with my work desk. I’m really sleeping, it’s not a fake pose.
But you knew that already.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
Or not. I’m not going 2012 batshit insane here.
But now that I’m actually nearing the end of my thesis writing days, I can’t help but start thinking about the “what next” questions.
I’ve been putting off thinking about my future for the longest time, always because there’s always the “i’m gonna do that right after I finish my thesis” excuse. It’s always there, hanging over my head. It’s never over till the thesis is over.
My life, technically speaking, is on hold.
I think my life is okay, generally. I’m not whining or anything. It’s blah, yes, but I’m okay, and often times even sort of happy and contented. So maybe this antsy feeling in my gut is just me reacting to the end of an era.
Finishing my thesis would mean finishing my masters.
I went back to school because the corporate world made me want to drink liquid mercury and die. I went back because I knew that this was what I needed. I like the academe. I like its warm and fuzzy and nerdy embrace.
But now that I’m almost almost almost near that point where I can actually take a step into that geeky direction, I’m having second thoughts.
Because I like this cushy job. It’s just as nerdy, and the pay is good. I like the people (well, most of them) and it’s been four really good long years.
So huh. I’m actually sort of confused.
Interesting how a pair of shoes can change everything.
I was sinking, around this time last year.
The demands of adulthood were taking their toll on me, and I was quite literally sick of being a responsible person.
At that time I felt quite strongly that I was sacrificing my dreams for the sake of practicality, and it was a reminder that I was much, much further from the person I had been just a year earlier. Idealism, as they say, belongs to the youth. I was twenty-five and depressed over the shell I had become.
And then I dusted off my dirty Chuck Taylors, put them on and was instantly renewed.
I don’t know how or why, but my shoes are quite a big part of who I am.
I put them on and it’s like I remember.
I remember that I can be responsible, I can be an adult, I can be “acceptable” and still relish my youthful naivete.
I put them on and I’m back.
PS: This simply means I’m giving myself license to buy new pairs this year. Hooyay me!
