Proof Of Life

I haven’t died just yet, though the last few weeks make that feel like a lie. A lot has happened since I wrote here last. I learned that the sickness I so valiantly fought with expired cold medicine was actually pneumonia, which was a little irksome because it kept me from keeping up my normal unhealthy but remarkably efficient sleeping and working habits. I’ve been trudging through classes in my Masters program and intermittently shrieking at the eldritch gods of yore to please, please just fucking end it all. I’ve also sacrificed a few glorious blonde hairs to keep up what I call “a sick ass GPA.” My school and the board of regents has yet to give that title the same weight as Dean’s list, but we’ll see what a dozen more emails accomplishes.

I’ve also been teaching two English classes and learning beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am somehow both hilariously incompetent and remarkably capable as a teacher, and both of those ideas are courtesy of my students, one of whom spent a good hour explaining to me why I was wrong to give him the grade I did and another who wrote me such a kind and heartfelt thank you note at the end of her midterm evaluation of me, that my eyes gave off a strange wet discharge. The contentious grade student was also kind enough to send me a brief 1,300 word email explaining his case in more detail. Meanwhile I’ve been finding new reasons to make my students see writing as less than meeting the unjust requirements of a malevolent academic force and more as a way of bending reality to their will with arcane word magic.

I haven’t written anything in a long time, and looking at what I still have to do to get through the year, it’s easy to start weighing the potential merits of changing my career path from teaching to street-corner modeling. Unfortunately, I’d probably need to get into better shape to really drive up my prostitutability and that’s a commitment to the gym I’m just not willing to make. At least, not while I have potential in the lucrative career of panhandling. I even have a great street performer name picked out: Bond, Vaga Bond.

Prostitutability and Vaga Bond are the trademarks of Noneuclidean Sofa, and if you take them, then I will cry so hard

There have been a few other significant developments in my life, but I can’t decide if that’s something I want to write about. No matter what, it feels like the direction of this site might be changing a little bit once I’m back for good. I’m still the same bitter, boiling mess of a human being, and writing about that will always be fun, but lately I’ve been wanting to direct my barely-articulated fury at different things, bigger things. I’ll still write about hating people who walk to slow on the sidewalk because those people need to know that someone is out there wishing upon every shooting star that they be culled from the Earth. And I’ll still write about teaching because it’s a relentless source of weird, uncomfortable comedy. I just might add more because, as I get older, my bitterness grows stronger, and the idea of always only being angry at the little things feels limiting. Where once I was simply a badger released into the world to growl and loathe everything it sees, now I’m a badger with thumbs and a hammer it stole from a
Walmart–totally unstoppable but maybe cute in a kind of frightening way.

I’ve never much liked photographs of myself, but even I have to admit that I look good

I’ll be back again for about a month after this semester ends, maybe before. Then I’m onto my final semester of grad school which, if the other semesters are anything to go off of, will leave me mentally and physically ruined almost beyond recovery. But then, once it’s over and I have the documentation to justify my demand that everyone call me Master, then I’ll be back for good.

I promise.

22 Replies to “Proof Of Life”

  1. Welcome back – I look forward to your venting of spleen on those bigger/different issues in your inimitable way! As we age, there seems to be a ever-increasing steaming heap of things to get pissed off about. So THAT’S why dad always used to yell at the TV.


  2. I was glad to see your post today. Your absense over the past few weeks has been noted. It does sound like you’re doing at least a little better.

    Also, just so you know, the two images you included in your post are with the words “ Discover Pixabay” in large white letters on a black background on my iPhone. Not sure if that’s my phone or something weird going on with your post.

    Anyway, welcome back.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ah, and here I thought I could fade away without much attention.

      Oh weird. That’s what I get for getting out of practice with wordpress. Pixabay is the site I get all my pictures from, so I guess they just wanted a little advertising. It’s all fixed now.

      Thank you!

      And it’s great to hear from you again!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Sorry to hear you are feeling so crappy! I’m glad you updated us though, as I wondered where you had gone. Thanks for the update and don’t forget to drink tons of water and get all the rest you possibly can 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. For a while I’ve had this–probably self-destructive–policy on water. Whenever anyone offers it to me, I shout “water’s an ingredient” and then drink something harder… I think I’m going to actually drink water now, maybe even twice a day.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Add a little slice of lemon, or lime, or orange with some ice cubes and it’ll taste better. Citrus is good for you. Good God, I’m such a mom.


  4. I’m sorry to hear you’ve been through a lot lately. Pneumonia is a bitch. I really hope you recover soon, please take care and good luck with everything! And you are already Master of Sarcastic Humor to me.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Thanks for the check-in. I love and miss your writing. So I’m taking this pneumonia thing personally, just so you know. Just hang in there, we’ll all be there with you, cheering you on in whatever new turn your life takes.

    Liked by 1 person

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