The Funkadelic

Well.  I am in a mood. This is day 13 of being sick.  This is day 753,345 of it being cold and cloudy.  This is also day four of it being unsurfably flat.  Not that I have been able to surf, because I have been too sick to do anything other than ride my bike for a block before realizing I need a nap and new lungs.

I haven't blogged in forever because I've been waiting to be in a good mood before I write anything to do a goodbye teaching post.  But the picture I want to lead with diappeared when I had to get a new phone.  And then whenever I try to retrieve it from my wireless account, the site crashes. So I thought, after enduring 3 weeks of laptop issues, I'd be able to eventually fix everything and retrieve my gd picture.  But noooo.  That is not the case.  I hate you, Verizon!  So here I am.  Cranky, bored, unemployed, unable to work on my fitness, single, losery.

Things were fun for a bit.  I went out a lot.  Surfed a lot.  Smooched a respectable amount.  And then I got sick from surfing in poop water (notice it wasn't from the other two activities).  I would also like to give a shoutout to Kleenex for adding lotion to their tissues.  So I guess I should wait to write the teaching post.  All I can say now is that I have spent the last four years doing the wrong thing.  And it is weird to not be spending this time fretting over my syllabus and reading list while dreading the start of school.  And it is weird when people ask me what I do for a living.  When you tell people you teach they usually react in one of the following ways:

1) They give you a dirty look because you are a waste of taxpayers' money, and you only work 5 months out of the year, and you have the super easy job of making 120 unstable adolescents do the exact opposite of what they want to do in a way that makes them not realize that they're doing the exact opposite of what they want to do and you usually achieve this by dancing around like a circus monkey.

2) They think you are a depraved sex offender.

3) They think you are dumb.

I'll admit it:  I never liked telling people I was a teacher. There are many wonderful and amazing teachers, and I am just not that kind of person.  I like to make a living wage.  I am okay with the concept of dressing like a grown-up.   Okay, this post obviously sucks and is rambling.  I will stop.  I am just so not good with abundant free time, as I just sit around and overanalyze the fact that I am destined to only be attracted to assholes.  Yes, I am talking about Granny Panties Guy!  He hasn't texted me today.  That, along with no job, no sun, no waves, no lung capacity, is making me extremely pissy.