A Little Hazy but Happy

It is almost 3 a.m.  I can't quite force myself to go to bed.  There is something going on--something in my head or maybe something emotional.  There is the urge to hit myself on the back of my skull to see if I can get it into my conscious realm.  In the meantime, I loved today for its 90 degree high, so much better than the 100+ that has plagued St. Louis for much of the summer.  I am proud of my son participating in his 1st triathalon and finishing.  I am happy that my daughters are not like some of my aquaintances' children who would just not fit in a family like ours.  They would not be interesting enough to hold their own.  I like my family, my children, the way each is unique but with undercurrents that make them a fascinating unit.  Some might say I am lucky.  Others would say I am blessed.  I am just happy things have turned out the way they have.

Funk

This is probably not the best time to write an entry. I do not feel physically well, and I am unhappy with my job. I might as well be honest: I am unhappy with myself. I have multiple tools available to me that can improve my outlook, but I am currently choosing to ignore them. I am not thinking "poor me." I think I am just in a funk. I am also not a springtime person. I prefer fall and winter. Maybe I will move to Alaska or Iceland. Maybe I am just concentrating too much on myself.
If someone handed me this paragraph to critique, the obvious target would be the overuse of the word "I."

Facebook

Now that I have a Facebook account, I am not sure how to distinguish between what might be appropriate for the blog and what would fit better on Facebook. I do not remember these philosophical dilemmas twenty, even ten, years ago. Maybe length and depth are the criteria. I also imagine more people follow my Facebook page than read my blog. I have "friended" so many people. (I still have not accepted friend as a verb. I am not too excited about gifting either.)
I guess if I want many people to immediately know I have a hangnail, I will post that to Facebook. If, on the other hand, I want to discuss the philosophy of injuries to the hand, I will add that to the blog.
About the hand. . .

Response

I was reading propaganda from the community college where I work, and I found myself responding, "Yah, whatever." Maybe I need an attitude adjustment. . . or just less imposed comradery(sp?) and forced school spirit. I enjoy my students and the people with whom I work, and I try to do my best to make the classroom experience a good one. Just don't try to regiment what I do into some formula for bureacracy's sake. There, I've said it.

More Teaching

I thought, for about a minute, that it would be fun to draw and write a cartoon. If I did, it would be akin to Dilbert and Get Fuzzy, the former because I have some experience with school bureaucracy and the latter just because. Lampooning post-secondary education would be particularly enjoyable. Alas, my drawing skills are subpar. Maybe I could write a book of essays, sort of a Woody Allen tribute, just not as Jewish and depressed.

To Teach

I never tire of teaching. Of course there is the occasional tedium, and frequently there is the smart ass in the back row, but I love it anyway. Part of the fun is getting to know the quiet students, the shy ones, the angry ones who have been forced to take a class against their will, the men and women who are hungry to learn, and even the smart asses. All of their stories are fascinating to me. I am so fortunate to have fallen into this career.

Computers

Sometimes it is as though the monitor is a big, gaping mouth swallowing me whole. I go from email to Facebook to internet to blogs I follow. Time does not exist inside the mouth. When I escape, as inevitably I do, the clock that has been in the corner of the screen suddenly surprises me. Will I always escape or will I become like Tron?
I noticed, however, that my sojourns into cyberspace have not included posting to my blog. Hmmm.