i have become incredibly apt at plucking my own nose hairs with my bare hands. Now, i can get three, sometimes even four hairs at once all with a single flick of the wrist. I have nowhere to brag about this. No one with which to bask in my tactile glories. Certainly no one to give me a hi-five after the eye-watering deed has been done. i am alone in my accomplishments; much like how Albert Einstein, Jesus Christ or Lady Gaga. Just too grand to understand.
i'm bored.
i can feel my brain rubbing against the back of my eyeballs.
And it's ichy.
I need to scratch, ney, claw at my dorsal ocular to satiate this most unpleasant sensation!
i have begun, heavily chagrined, to teach at middle schools. it is for a mere three months mind you, nothing to shake a tallywacker at, but it is happening all around me nonetheless. Yes, middleschool is happening around me. it's prepubescent pangs rattle the cheaply plastered walls. it's uninhibited angst terrorizes the graffitti girded desks. It's social awkwardice scraps its nails across this chalkboard we call humanity; and it's screech peirces the very depths of my soul. God, i hate middle school.
now, i'm not one to complain...but i am one to rant, which is a lot like complaining with a greater tendancy to dance the atop the semipermeable line we've drawn to designate sanity. there is just something about middle schoolers that gets my mountain goat. unlike grade schoolers, they've passed that age where their antics and misadventures can be considered adorable. But unlike highschoolers they are not mature enough to sit down and have a good chat with over a cup of jo or a mug of beer.
no, they are neither of those good things.
and to be neither of a good thing is rarely a good thing.
they are old enough to not laugh at poop jokes but not old enough to know they probably should.
they take themselves seriously in a way that no one else ever will.
i'm sure some would say that i shouldn't talk because i too was once one of these concoctions of knees and elbows; awkward and yet confident in my understanding of the universe. and to such heysayers i say 'yes, i was once a middle schooler'
and that is the most depressing thing of all.
too think i once took myself seriously is to think that once Sarah Palin attempted to run for president.
But, i fail to digress.
having all my classes canceled for the day (again) i have found myself thumbing through webpage after webpage aimless meandering the web in a most sinful attempt to murder time.
and now, here i am.
i have actually bored myself into blogging.
it's like eating sand due to lack of any other sustenance.
So kiddies, these next three months will hopefully result in more one on one time with my bastard step child Blog. however, there is a paradox. Blogging out of lack of something better to do will surely result in an unsightly blog to bloggable incidences ratio. i will run out of things to write before i run out of writing. so, to remedy this i have decided to fall back a an even older bastard stepchild of mine; bullshit.
yes, bullshit, the crutch to ever broken bone; surely you will dance and sing for me to help fill these lonely hours. why maybe, if my spirits are good, i might even join in the little ditty myself. we'll swing and spin until we're so dizzy we collapse into a pile of giggles and ever so innocent misunderstandings. maybe our hands will touch as we both reach for the same macaroon. we'll blush, and experience so many complicated emotions. but in the end Bullshit will just leave me for some other wanton it scraps off the back alleys into g-string and tramp jacket. but i won't feel sorry for myself. i'll have seen it coming; everyone knows bullshit is just a little hussy...
