What’s missing? I catch a lot of shit because I don’t buy it. I felt like a broken record when I talked to anyone about teaching a 5/4 load. There goes the guy who teaches a 5/4 load haha, but I mean, really, it’s hilarious to remember the faces made by folks at a conference on…
The best kind of parties to crash are the ones where you feel thrills, while the best party crashers are fun and don’t spill (much) on the floor. But there’s always that one guest who talks too loudly or is wearing a terrible sweater and that’s really a great fear of mine, to be that dude. And I’d say it’s a particularly masculinist move to walk into someone’s home and track mud, ESPECIALLY when they’ve been working so hard to make everything look nice, when they’ve opened their home and said welcome. I should be more careful. I love that you love the hula hooping. I think hula hooping is a wonderful and powerful image, precisely because the grace and wit one needs to keep the hoop moving is easy to dismiss as nothing special. But that shit takes work and is so complex and if nothing else makes everyone who can’t hula jealous. Cul-de-sacs make me think of moving away the summer before third grade and I got my ass kicked by fifth graders on the bus that year. It’s a dumb memory and I have no idea why I can’t shake it. Try as I may I just can’t come up with a way to let go. A common refrain.
As far as labor goes, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know much about it. If I’m honest I’ll own that I talk the way I do about the job I have—that I am lucky enough to have—because I’m angry and in it and trying to manage. We talked the other night about feeling better this semester, and I do, and I was touched you could tell. It’s always so hard to gauge if the shit we write here translates or not. But, yeah, the job is a bear and It takes it’s toll on me in very real ways. There’s a lot of great things, but there’s a lot of not-great things. The biggest not-great thing is that sometimes the grind of the job feels so intense that I mistake intensity for value and act superior because I think I work harder or that the work is somehow more important. I think we all know how dangerous that kind of thinking really is. Remembering how wrong I sound is always so much easier after the fact. Recognizing how to be a better listener always happens after I, well, sort of blow it.
I’ve fucked a lot of friendships up. I’ve been a pretty terrible partner at times. I keep my distance. I hold on to those things in the way only a child of divorce does. Over the years, as I’ve moved or dug in somewhere lonely, I’ve made some good goddamn friends through the internet. I like the time I have to figure out how to be and then positively love getting all effusive out in space when we meet. I also like that I seem to be a pretty good judge of character. I like the fact that I’m drawn to honest, smart, creative, and responsible individuals. I like to have difficult conversations. I like to be wrong. I respect these friends because they tell me. I want them to respect me too. I want to be liked, effusively, because that’s where it’s at. I think we all want that at some point. Sometimes though there has to be room for everything else and I get that too.