implant

Hello again! Good morning! Where's the snow? This springlike weather is really "getting my goat." That's a phrase, right? Getting my goat? I remember an old love of mine frequently using that phrase along with heroin, which is probably why he is an old love and not a current love. Anywho, the weather. It's great, it's awful, it sure is something else. Let me talk about something else, though. Food? Yes, perhaps. But that might stress me out right now. Baby steps. Baby diaper. Sometimes, with this delicate bladder of mine, I wonder if I should wear diapers. Okay, so I went from writing about the weather to writing about diapers in seconds flat. Welcome to my mind! And please don't say "welcome to the jungle" because my mind is in no way a jungle. It is a frozen tundra. Ohhhhh... So that's where all the snow is. Gotcha.

Yesterday on NPR I was listening to a show about education. I was half listening (my frozen tundra mind kept getting distracted with thoughts of a perpetual spring and Pampers), but I caught enough of it to let the seed of "oh maybe I should become a teacher!" start to grow. Again. I have gone back and forth and back and forth and back and forth with this idea of teaching for well over a decade. Well over a decade, people! This is how long it takes me to make a decision! Granted this is a pretty big decision. But, like, I should probably just be more decisive. I'll be 93 when I finally begin teaching and then I'll drop dead in my diapers on the first day of school during my lesson on frozen tundras. I kid. None of us will live to see 93 because this pleasant springlike weather in February is quickly bringing about our demise.

So I guess what I am trying to say in my typical convoluted way is that I have been considering teaching as a viable career once more. I might shoot myself if I had to be a first grade teacher, but fifth or sixth grade? Yeah, totes, man. Never thought I would say that (both the 5th/6th grade thing and the "totes, man" thing), but alas. There is something about little humans that age, 10/11/12, which is still magical. They are curious, slightly independent, excited, naive, beginning to think critically, sort of have an attitude, but still freely give hugs. It's terrific. And maybe the fact that I go into work everyday anxious to work with the students only to be disappointed by being given lonely tasks such as sweeping the floor is making me crave the teaching profession more. I don't know, though. If you haven't picked it up by now, I tend to romanticize things.

I will seriously consider this path again for the 9,775,634th time and try my damnedest to make a solid decision. Soon. It might be juuuust the thing I need to assist me in my ED recovery. You know, finding another, far healthier purpose to my life than just not eating. I can keep myself busy and preoccupied with educating America's youth! I can put my energy into an incredibly effective frozen tundra lesson plan! And hell, at least a teacher's salary will buy me the diapers I may end up wearing. The generic brand, sure, but diapers nonetheless. And I think that is where I shall leave this post -- on the phrase "but diapers nonetheless." Have a beautiful springlike day and don't forget that we are all going to be severely dehydrated in the summer! Cheers!