[19:03] Admiral Fancy: i am trying to not sound like a jackass when telling them "i am your child's student teacher! hi! make them bring a rock to school soon"
[19:03] Admiral Fancy: i can't write like a normal person
[19:03] Admiral Fancy: i put too much me in there
[19:04] chachanthemiddle: I don't know what to tell you
[19:04] Admiral Fancy: fair enough

When I go to school/work, or when I do things for that work, I do not feel better about myself. I do not always feel worse, but I never feel better. I feel mediocre. I feel lackluster, slow, drab, fumbling, scattered. I don't feel intelligent or funny or charming or lovable. I don't feel clear-headed or insightful or quick. I have in the past felt these things to some extent in other venues, and value the attributes. Especially the quickness, the intelligence: I value that in me very much, and to not be able to feel it all day long is shit.

I try to tell myself that my student-teacher experience is not indicative of my future as a teacher. That is probably true. Yet it does not help all that much because I do not actually know. I feel bad most of the time these days; I am many thousands in debt in the effort to become this thing I do not like being, though we are not our work, but
It is very difficult for me to get myself in well-enough order to have time for doing the things that make me feel ok about myself and life. Writing is kind of the main thing there. So this is it, for me and writing, and I feel guilty and self-defeating even taking the time for this.
I don't like how my life is right now.
What I want to say is, I am fighting something and/or myself, constantly, in the effort to not lead a miserable, stupid life, and it is tiring lately. Sometimes, I am happy, and that is a victory. Sometimes, I can see how nothing my supervising teacher thinks of me, nothing that happens in that classroom, fucking matters to my life. That is a victory. I just don't have a lot else outside of my dreadful parts of the day, and with all the work, the dreadful parts are mixed with the pulling-self-out-of-misery time, and it gets too hard to not be upset about these things that shouldn't fucking matter. I am not writing well about this, so that's starting to make me feel worse. Well, anyway.

Today, I started this entry to mention it and maybe it's no big deal, but today I got approved to lead a writing workshop in April at a young writer's conference in Portland, for 4th-12th graders. I will do it twice in the one day, I think just for 4th/5th graders; I will hopefully not suck at doing this, because it sounds like a thing I could do and like myself doing. It sounds about right. So, see, there's a victory.
Times like this it feels like I don't really have that great a sense of humor. I'm just all bitter and cranky, and write things like this which can't be fun or even very coherent reads. Fucking lameness, man. It is hard to get out from under it.

I said I would give you those songs, the other day, so here:
1
2
3

`````````

Here's some things to share with you this morning, before I'm off to prepare a massive load of shit for my first week of teaching.

Yesterday afternoon while at school feeling generally miserable as I do while at school, I was tasked with sorting pennies into groups of one hundred, about 8 or 10 groups all together, picking them out from among nickels quarters dimes sacajewas half dollars canadian pennies paperclips doodads and nutmeg. Somehow while doing this the show Deadwood came to mind, and it comforted me greatly. While reading this article this morning, I was again both comforted and reminded of Deadwood. I like Nick Cave a lot.


Here is something fun. I like David Berman a lot. Though, I recently read something that said he hated movies. All movies. And that on Oscars night, he likes to go out so he can see other kindred souls who don't care about movies. I don't mind the not caring about Oscars, but not caring about movies? I guess in an alternate reality we could not marry each other after all, David Berman.

So I'll go have some breakfast now and catch you later. Oh, I was supposed to post songs here. Well, some other time.

If I were to tell you about my sleep and work habits of the past few days you would gasp, you would be agape; I've been kind of ok except tonight the exhaustion is making songs sound so overpoweringly pretty I can hardly stand it. Overpowered, you might say. Fuck. So ok, I have been hearing two songs off the new Fiery Furnaces album, and oh my word. And then I listened to a Guided By Voices song I downloaded recently that I never heard before, Don't Stop Now. Oh my.
And I want the new Destroyer album so bad, so I can listen to that over and over in the car. Oh my. Music is so neat.
Wait here. I will come back later and share the songs with you. You might not care, because you sadly do not share my taste in music, gentle reader. Man. That thought totally brought me down. Well, I will try it anyway. I have to go to the library now to rent books about rocks since that is my work sample that is starting next Monday. I wonder if I will fall dead asleep in the middle of a library aisle. It is what I see happening. I will report back later.

this is a stupid thing to blog about

Some dressed-up businessy mormons, who, I don't know, live in my apartment complex were walking around saying hi when I came home. One said to the other, "I think I lost a button." The other said, "Maybe there's one in your pants."
No good reason for that to have made me giggle.
But: religiontag-sporting young men! One saying, Maybe there's one in your PANTS!
It feels real funny. Shame it's not.

My blog has been really blah and unpleasant lately. I will try not to post again until I can muster up something enjoyable. (Might be a while.)

sometimes blogs are just a cry for sympathy

Yesterday I had stomach flu. Bad stomach flu.
It is not a comfortable experience to have the stomach flu and no one to take care of you.
I will not say more about that.

Today I'm recovering, but I am in low spirits I must say. Crying over the phone to my mother low spirits, because I'm exhausted in every way, I have to show a huge amount of plans to my supervising teacher on Tuesday and there is no, absolutely no way, that I will be able to do that, and I hate teaching young children, I may hate teaching all children, and I will never get a job in New York, and I have no money, "and Mom, you would not believe how my apartment looks." Oh, it's bad. And I stink, also. But I feel too weak to endure the shower stream.

Feel sorry for me.

Kids, I have just been on one of the most depressing shopping trips in my experience. I looked at so very much clothing, all over the Salem mall, and oh, it filled me with despair. "Doesn't take much," you may say to yourself. Ah, but consider: all shirts are not only poorly cut, but have the dreaded bust pleat (bust pleats: enemy of all but those whose busts conform to manufacturer standards) and WAIT THAT'S NOT THE WORST they also sometimes had GLITTER and RUFFLES and, even sweaters had this: RUCHING. And drawstrings in weird places, and cut-outs in weird places, and oh, so many ugly things, rhinestone zippers, printed words, sins of ribbon, all in the worst colors, in fabric that already is pilling and snagging.
It was disgusting. I took to swearing under my breath.
And don't think I confined myself to the youngster sections--shit, the rhinestone zipper was in the old lady section! What has become of us all?


I had to go to the mall because I have no clean, non-shabby article of clothing to wear on my top half for my mock interview tomorrow. Dudes, I am so stressed out. That is why I am blogging again, because I cannot face my future. I teach a full day tomorrow, then I go to a mock interview, and I am not well-prepared for either, and I HAVE TO TAKE IT EASY, I'm VIRUSY. I keep just wanting to cry. It's not only because of tomorrow, but you know how it is, things pile up and after a certain point of ack-edness, everything looks to be a fucking mess.

Oh! I was going to make a joke for you. I don't think I can make it funny now, but it was about how I settled for a zip-up cardigan that, though it might not say "interview," at least says "mock interview," especially since it is a mock turtleneck. There's a pun, in there!! At any rate, if somebody gives me crap I have little to no qualms telling them, "It's a mock interview--let's pretend I'm dressed appropriately." My resume is bad, I cannot manage a cover letter, and I have no idea how to respond to any possible interview question. I have been forgetting my zip code and phone number, today. I'm going to just be glad for now this is not the city nor state where I actually want to get a job.

Hey, let's change the subject. I need to go soon, but before I do: moistworks.com is doing a week of entries by known authors (it's an mp3 blog) and I cannot believe no one in the comments is freaking out. No one! People don't freak out about authors? I mean, if I were a person who comments on sites of people I don't know, they'd have the following comments on their site:

"Whoa! Sam Lipsyte! No way! YOU ARE SO AWESOME."

and

"holy shit! it's jonathan lethem! i LOVED motherless brooklyn! i've read nothing else by you but i bet the rest is good! man, seriously, motherless brooklyn. that was GREAT. ps: why are you so into chickens?"

Sometimes I mix it up with the capitalization, see.
So yeah, no one freaked out like that in the comments, at all. Maybe such comments were deleted, or self-edited because everyone who reads the site is relatively socially adjusted.

Here is another thing to share, a stream of an album not out yet. I like it a lot so far: http://www.mergerecords.com/jukeboxes/destroyer/

health update (oh boy!)

Since the phlegm coming out of me is no longer yellowy or greenish, I got sent out the health center door with ibuprofen, sudafed, generic brand robitussin, and a paper on the treatment of the common cold (Wash your hands!). I feel insulted, I must say. It might be viral bronchitis, but it's viral so it's just another, sadder version of the common cold. Drink lots of water! says the paper.
What I don't get is that at one point I did have the Greenish Phlegm of Semi-Serious Illness, so, what? My body fought off a bacterial infection by itself? I wouldn't have figured on that. Yet now it is powerless against a viral infection.

The body sometimes takes a long time to fight these viruses, I was told. Rather contrarily, I was also told to not let myself get run-down. (Get some rest!)

It sort of makes me want to cry. Actually, that might also be the depression. I wish there were some way I could decline to participate in the next 4 weeks. Or, put this life path on hold with the option to pick it up again later, and while it is there in limbo, I would

hmm

I would have a nice time.

I demuted commercials in time for a local news promo that said, "gun right in his face!" and fully expected to see a corresponding image of the vice president. How many times in our nation's history has one been able to reasonably expect such a thing?
Sadly, I was disappointed.

The thing I'm watching is Gilmore Girls. It's getting way less fun somehow. None of you watch, do you. You think it's stupid. Well, I think they lost me when they all got so rich.

I am excited a little tonight because I have some big plans tomorrow, including
a) CALLING IN SICK TO WORK

and who cares about the rest.

Well, it won't be all that fun, involving a long time at the student health center hoping for eventual attention and medicine, that insurance might not help me with because what retarded insurance, but nevermind about that, then also there is work to do. But I will have time to do it for once! Some, anyway! And I might be able to mail my father a belated birthday gift! I will be free to go about the town on a weekday in daylight!

It will be hard to not just sleep.
Man, I sure hate some things. Many things. But let's be vague.

Happy Valentine's!

phlegm and sadness; wiggles

I so very nearly called in sick this morning. I've been fighting sickness for I don't know how long now, and though I am no longer real achy, there's soreness and ticklishness about the chest and throat that are a nuisance, and other such things. Pain. Over the weekend, instead of staying in my apartment babying myself and making sure I got work done, I went to Portland and overstayed there, and was out in the cold, and smoked a lot (really a lot) because I felt awkward and bored, and I didn't drink enough water or juice. No, I did not.
I woke up today with phlegm and sadness, soreness and also I was sweaty. I don't leave on the heater that actually works, overnight, because it is noisy-- I took my temperature, and hooee, 99.1! Call in sick! Call the doctor(that you don't have)! These were my first reactions. But then I thought about my supervising teacher's likely reaction, after she was already weird about me taking a professional leave day for the conference in Portland last Friday. And though for me 99.1 is not usual, it's still not actually a fever. I guess.

But I hated today. I so should have stayed home. And I have so much to do this week. Tonight I need to put together valentines for the kids, because if I don't I'm a horrible person? Also I have to put together plans for my next full day of teaching on Thursday, at which, thankfully, my supervising teacher will be absent. She has an appointment somewhere! I can mess up in privacy! But I have to show her the plans tomorrow.
I cannot plan anything, it seems. I don't know what one does with 1st graders. I thought it would come to me, but no, not as of yet.

I wanted to show you the valentines I got for the kids. It was a tough decision. At first I thought Batman, but EVERYONE will do Batman, and his captions aren't that funny. Then my attention turned to The Wiggles valentines. Now, I don't know who these Wiggles's are, but you will not find a more hilarious group of Valentine cards. I really should have gotten them, except for the fact the kids would have thought I was retarded.
Here are some sample Wiggles images that will show you what I mean!


The finger guns!



Look closely: we've got a yellow-spotted...dinosaur; an octopus, wearing pajamas; a giant dog; four nerdy, kind of..well, at the Wiggly Concert at least, there's the apperance of ass-grabbing; and then the pirate. Do not forget the pirate. I don't know why he and the octopus were not on the party invites, but they were certainly on the Valentines.
But the Wiggles seem to be for little kids, so that might be insulting to the 1st graders. I settled for another child entertainment phenomenon heretofor unfamiliar to me: The Koala Brothers!



They seem to live in a claymation approximation of 1930s aviation history. And they have cute crocodile, turtle, and....yellow koala friends. I don't know what's going on with the yellow koalas. Giant mice? Tentative exploration of 1930s era racial tensions?
Are they in Australia? Turtles live in Australia?
Anyway, everyone likes koalas at age 7 I bet.
I don't know why I'm typing this entry when I should be doing work or sleeping or crying.

I teach a full day tomorrow, kind of pretty much by myself. With the supervising teacher watching etc., so you know WHEE.

Yeah, I don't know if it's that I've been kind of sick all week, fighting this thing that is making all my muscles hurt, and my throat and ears feel funny, and my heart sad, but I think I'm getting kind of mean to the children. For one thing, I miss the third graders. Even the ones I only had for math or reading group, I see them in the halls and am all, "HEYYYYY," like they're my long-lost buddies, and they're all, "Uh, hi, teacher I hardly know" and then avert their gaze in embarrassment for me. My favorite kid from the third grade, he goes to the after school program, and it is all I can do every afternoon to carry out my student-teacherly duties rather than run on down to play basketball with him.

With the kids actually in my class now, I...man, I don't know. I know I've said "I don't care" several times lately. Also, "Figure it out." I said, today, " 'Fin-d'? I don't know this word 'fin-d'. Sounds Norwegian."

In my voice, often there's an undertone of: "Oh come on now."
Also, "There are b's in this world and then there are d's; get ahold of yourself here, kid."
"You annoy me so much. So, so much. Maybe go to sleep. Have a cracker. Hush."
Undertones, mind you. But kids'll pick up on this sort of thing, sooner or later. I really don't look forward to tomorrow. I feel so sick. I want soup and a puppy.

a little story about the last 30 minutes

Sometime tonight I started feeling really sad for no particular reason, and certain I would be sad when I wake up tomorrow. I was messaging with someone, and had the gall to tell her my feelings exactly. So I thought maybe I should just go to bed. Then I was about to message another person, to say "I'm irrationally sad, quick, make a joke," because I almost really thought it would help, but that person left before I could test their jokesmanship. Probably for the best. So then I returned to the idea I should go to bed, and left my friend. I thought about putting away laundry, but that didn't make me feel less sad. So then I tried to take some photos with my camera.
I took a few with my stop motion flash, which made things look yellow and insane. One was an already weird picture of my fist in the kitchen, made lunatic by the stop motion flash. I will spare you it and some others.
This one is kind of cool though. It is my purse, through my empty laundry hamper.



And here is me, with a timer, through the laundry hamper.



You can see my iron, and the yellow paper that says I will graduate in May and no do not want to attend the ceremony.


This was slower than I thought it would be. It must be time for bed.

I tell myself I should get back into frequent picture taking and posting, so in that spirit, I thought I'd show you some photos.

So far this month, however, I seem to have only taken two.





and this one, of a giant duck in Albany:



I didn't say these were two quality photographs. I do enjoy the Nessie-like charm of this capture though. I also enjoy the mystery of only telling you it's a giant duck. I swear to you, it is the truth.