so is optimism, looking forward to things, seeing the glass as half full, looking at life through rose colored glasses and all of that other shit that keeps people floating down a river of flotsam dreams and teal colored hopes. If happiness were a beautiful, spotless, perfectly formed bubble that a child had formed, I would pop that mother fucker and walk away laughing... does this even require an explanation? Am I the only person who puts her Ipod on, looks the bathroom door and dances for 30 minutes until I'm sweating just so I can drone out the laughter and joy that my family is experiencing without me? I mean, I do that, but usually it is to drown out the sounds of those little bastards fighting one another. By the way, someone told me that if I want to write a book that I have to blog a whole lot more. It's hard when you have nothing to say but bad things or even just good things for that matter. Who wants to read that shit? But, Ty is watching Madagascar 3 right now and there is about 10 minutes left so that leaves me about 10 minutes, 30 seconds before my second shift begins. Ty wants to play Battleship but there is only one cartridge thing or whatever the hell you call it so we made a makeshift one out of a little box with holes... never mind, Jake called it "ghetto" which I don't like but he also constantly describes things as "Gucci" so what the hell does he know. Ty is naked too which is standard fare around our house in the summer. Not for me, God forbid, but for the little one. The other two were like that when they were little too, but that habit tends to fall by the wayside, for obvious reasons. Although Ty is constantly telling me, habits aside, that his penis is sticking straight up. I have written about that before; I just continue to tell him that it is supposed to do that; it means that it is working. He accepts this as reasonable and he lets it go at that.
I don't generally think of myself as an unhappy person but there are times when I am happy in my unhappiness, in my misery. There are times when it feels good to feel bad. Know what I mean? In this instance, it is not a release of stress or anything like that. I mean, who doesn't love a good cry now and then. No, I mean, it feels good to honk at someone on the road or kick the leg of the couch or scream into a pillow or make fun of some stupid character on television. It feels good to not feel good. And, I don't know if I am the only one who feels that way. I doubt that many people like to admit that or I wonder even if that feel that way at all. Like yesterday for example, we went out to lunch as a family and the meal was great and the server was very good, efficient, friendly, the food came out on time, but, about halfway through the meal, she did it, she went WAY overboard with the friendly. It began to ooze from her pores and at one point I looked at Tim and winced when she started to talk about the different types of chicken in the kitchen. Now, I will be the first to admit, I am not the friendliest of people and I often have a bad attitude, but, conversely, the opposite of that is the Uberhappy, life is wonderful and everything is so beautiful and I love everyone and... Oh God, I can feel my temples begin to pound. I mean, happiness has its place, just like sadness and anger and irritation, but just like some people hate it when I am angry or extremely sad, I hate it when people have sunshine shooting out of their asses. If this is their nature, I would never say anything directly to them or embarrass them, like the server yesterday, I smiled at her, asked her questions about the chickens; she was really impressed by those cooks I guess and then we tipped her 20%. She was a good server, but she didn't know when too much of a good thing is clearly too damn much. By the time the meal ended, I was in a worse mood than before, all because of her extreme happiness. Clearly this is a reflection on me, but I cannot be the only one who feels that way.
I flip people off when I'm driving and if someone cuts me off, I yell, whether they can hear me or not. If someone cuts in front of me in line, I politely say something or if I am shortchanged, I tell the cashier. I don't have to be mean about it, but this whole forced happy thing is starting to really chap my ass. I don't need 6 people behind the counter screaming "WELCOME TO PANDA" every time I go in the fucking door or, if it is obvious that I don't want to join the "club" or get a free "club" card because I've said "No thank you, I don't want a club card" and it is repeated, "but it's free" then please respect that. I don't want someone to ask me three times if they can help me find something when it is obvious that I am looking and browsing and I don't need assistance. I now say, "Thank you, but if I need something, I'll ask." I mean for crying out loud, do I have the word NEEDY tattooed on my forehead. It's like sex I suppose. The therapist told me, if Tim wants to have sex and you don't, try to think about how it will make him happy or make his day or how it will put him in a better mood and because you love him, then it will put you in a better mood. I tried to look at it like that and that works sometimes. I mean I do love Tim and I love sex so there you go, but the thing is, sometimes I just don't want to. I just don't want to go through the motions. Maybe it is because I'm a woman or a psycho or both, but sometimes I just can't. That's just not me; I don't fake it... har har.
I gave a final exam today and it was clear that several students are not going to pass the class, yet there they were, staring at me, hoping through some sort of scientific process that the grade will automatically get transferred from their hopes into the computer. I remember thinking once that the process of grading someone's work is infinitely unfair, even when you have criteria, even when that criteria is objective; there is a supposed amount of power that comes with telling someone that they are or aren't "good" enough based on a curriculum or a class that you helped design. It is a huge responsibility. I know deep down that I am a fair person and that the standards are fair and that, if they fail, it is most likely due to some lapse on their part. However, there is still that moment when I am entering grades and I think about what each of their faces looked like and I realize that I can change the course of their future, even if it is just slight. I have the power to alter the trajectory and I can, in essence, make them happy. And then I sit back and evaluate the situation, the work, the student, the whole process and I know that I can't do that if it isn't warranted and so, I try to soften the blow. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. But as the years have gone on, I have gotten much more efficient at delivering the news so that it is not unexpected or really, all that painful. At least it seems that way to me; the students may tell you otherwise.
I told them today, before class ended, that all I ever wanted to do, besides when I was 8 or 9 for a brief stint and I considered being a brain surgeon, a hairdresser and a flight attendant, was be a teacher. I wanted my life to be about sharing information that I love and that my enthusiasm for that subject matter would somehow seep into their collective consciousness. I also love that I get to start over every term too; it is exciting and new and always a challenge. So, happiness in a nutshell. Maybe not totally overrated, but in tandem with sadness, anger and a need for swift justice, especially when someone tailgates you on the freeway... I'm done. Fuck off.
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