"If I look happy it's because I'm trying to be social"
I didn't say that first. Martin L. Gore said it. It's an apt quote for me right now because I can't help but realize that I'll be thinking this more than a few times in the coming two weeks.
This is the time of year when my life ceases to be my own. My work begins to feel more like indentured servitude, and I start to think that cloning might actually be a great idea! I stop caring about closing the achievement gap because I am working non-stop and I'm ridiculously tired and cranky.
How tired and cranky? Let me tell you. This is the time of year when I lose all patience with the things that come out of people's mouths. I don't have time make small talk. I don't have time to hear about how you're doing. And I don't have time to tell you how I'm doing either. This is the time of year that I dread the question "So, how are things going?"
If I tell you the truth, you will:
A) Be shocked by how prolifically I can swear
B) Develop a concerned look on your face because I'm not giving you socially acceptable responses, and
C) Ask me if I've considered therapy.
So, it's much easier to just answer, "I'm fine!" And then I can go back to clenching my jaw.
But I'm not too tired and cranky to argue till the chickens come home to roost that Nacho Libre is racist stereotypying of Mexicans. I don't care if someone wants to tell me I'm being too PC and too sensitive. It starts with an R and ends with a T. What does it spell? RACIST! And yes, I will agree that reverse-racism could be claimed when the Wayan's brothers actually dressed up and starred in White Chicks. How do such stupid movies get made? Hmm, the teacher in me will break it down for you. Boys and girls, today we're going to learn a new vocabulary word. It's actually a phrase. Repeat after me: Casting Couch.
Since I'm digressing, here's another thing: I haven't been writing the things I want to write because I'm working, working and working. In my writing class last Thursday, our instructor had his buddy come in and talk to us about being a writer, etc. This guy is about to start promoting his first book and he was absolutely engaging and funny. It was great. I was loving it.
And then, disaster struck.
Someone asks how he found time to write while working full time. Oh Ho! Dude starts talking about how he sold his house in the Hollywood Hills for a smaller and cheaper house in Echo Park and just lived off the money he made from the sale. So, he didn't have to go to work anymore for anyone but himself. To be fair, he could have sat around all damn day watching the Tyra Banks show and Starting Over, but of course, he didn't do that, he wrote. Still, talk about uninspiring to moi, Ms. Workhorse here! I want to hear how he worked full time, micromanged his kids, kept the house clean, stayed in shape and STILL carved out the time to bust out a fantastic novel.
I know this will all pass, eventually. By July 4th, I should be less robot and more human again.
I think.
This is the time of year when my life ceases to be my own. My work begins to feel more like indentured servitude, and I start to think that cloning might actually be a great idea! I stop caring about closing the achievement gap because I am working non-stop and I'm ridiculously tired and cranky.
How tired and cranky? Let me tell you. This is the time of year when I lose all patience with the things that come out of people's mouths. I don't have time make small talk. I don't have time to hear about how you're doing. And I don't have time to tell you how I'm doing either. This is the time of year that I dread the question "So, how are things going?"
If I tell you the truth, you will:
A) Be shocked by how prolifically I can swear
B) Develop a concerned look on your face because I'm not giving you socially acceptable responses, and
C) Ask me if I've considered therapy.
So, it's much easier to just answer, "I'm fine!" And then I can go back to clenching my jaw.
But I'm not too tired and cranky to argue till the chickens come home to roost that Nacho Libre is racist stereotypying of Mexicans. I don't care if someone wants to tell me I'm being too PC and too sensitive. It starts with an R and ends with a T. What does it spell? RACIST! And yes, I will agree that reverse-racism could be claimed when the Wayan's brothers actually dressed up and starred in White Chicks. How do such stupid movies get made? Hmm, the teacher in me will break it down for you. Boys and girls, today we're going to learn a new vocabulary word. It's actually a phrase. Repeat after me: Casting Couch.
Since I'm digressing, here's another thing: I haven't been writing the things I want to write because I'm working, working and working. In my writing class last Thursday, our instructor had his buddy come in and talk to us about being a writer, etc. This guy is about to start promoting his first book and he was absolutely engaging and funny. It was great. I was loving it.
And then, disaster struck.
Someone asks how he found time to write while working full time. Oh Ho! Dude starts talking about how he sold his house in the Hollywood Hills for a smaller and cheaper house in Echo Park and just lived off the money he made from the sale. So, he didn't have to go to work anymore for anyone but himself. To be fair, he could have sat around all damn day watching the Tyra Banks show and Starting Over, but of course, he didn't do that, he wrote. Still, talk about uninspiring to moi, Ms. Workhorse here! I want to hear how he worked full time, micromanged his kids, kept the house clean, stayed in shape and STILL carved out the time to bust out a fantastic novel.
I know this will all pass, eventually. By July 4th, I should be less robot and more human again.
I think.
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