Keeping Your Emotions at an Echo

100 days. I've been here for 100 days and now I'm officially feeling it. Not in the good way that it could be, either. A lot of that (the good way of feeling a place) resides in a sense of novelty which never does age well. Through a certain string of events, I'm feeling it. Maybe day 104 or something will be more like day 96. I hope so. I'm not actually counting. Like days in the Bible, only not.

Me, too. Me. Too.

On the upside, I had a really fulfilling TOEFL class tonight. My BK Science 70-ers decided to enlighten my life with the marvel that is KidsBeer:

I LOVE MAO TSE-TUNG!!!

We took a break from learning about SHARKS and tsunamis to discuss said marketing scheme. When the topic of the tsunami in Japan came up, Sean Park waited for a lull in the conversation, stood up lackadaisically, slowly raised his chubby fist in the air, and said, "Down with Japan!" Fuck, I love chubby Korean kids. I was all hating myself and missing having friends until that kid decided to denounce my irrationality with his awesome. I dedicate this post to you, Sean Park. I only hope it does you justice.

Right now seems like a nice paragraph to talk about something I've observed or some pseudo-insightful remark I have on my personality, but my moods have been so polar-rific lately that I'm questioning what I do and do not know. It's interesting/stupid that the post before this was about how robotic I was feeling and this one errs on the north side of PMSville. Maybe I need to change my diet. Maybe I'm just detaching again. I wish I had a personal mechanic that could disengage my 'abort' button. I wanted to type the sentence, "It makes me wonder what I'm actually feeling", but that seems silly. Doesn't make it not true, though. I'm aware that Personal Insight is just behind this door and it's either locked and the two respective sides of the key lodged in the Box of Laziness are labeled "intelligence" and "exposure therapy" or it's ajar and I'm just sitting in a moderately comfortable armchair with my left leg half asleep waiting for whatever it is to come and eat me or to summon Gozer and bring about an end to all of this.



Friends don't let friends cross the streams.

PS - I just made $20 writing that last paragraph.

Man, I love learning. I have this one job, right? I'll read you (read: make you read) some of the guidelines on 'Class Management':

Honestly, students do not like to study ... They should be scared of teachers because of the rules ... What happens when students lose attention? -- To catch a tiger, go into a tiger's den. ... You should be an eloquent lecturer. Do not sit. Students will lose attention soon enough ... When students are daydreaming, it means you have no sense of humor. Remake your class a fun and interesting [sic].

So, instead of listening to their stupid rules (the above does not do it justice; that was just the paper I have lying here) and abiding by their guidelines, I just make Powerpoints. On Wednesdays, I get paid to sit here for three hours and make Powerpoints and/or blog/facebook/grooveshark/wikipedia/stumbleupon/eat. I just learned how fireworks are created! MAN! I wonder if there are adult classes for this type of thing.

01:GI101:AAA = General Information 101: Because College Never Taught You Anything Useful

A ridiculously non-intensive course teaching you crap you might've learned when you were 8 but forgot and now you feel intellectually inferior to your peers when it comes to general knowledge and conceptual understanding. What the hell is the internet, anyway?

Prerequisite: desire to learn and non-idiocy. The final consists solely of an application of the knowledge you learned--for example, you may be required to roast vegetables, aurally determine the problem with a car engine, quote 80s movies, or answer probing questions on your own religion. Course fee: $14.95 for "What's  Wrong with my Snake?" (John Rossi, D.V.M., M.A.) The final grade for the course will be pass/fail. Consider it a thinly-veiled metaphor for your life.

This is what happens when the veil is lifted.

In the words of Jemaine Clement, "Like an abandoned school, I have no principal."


xoxo