Lately I've been in a life like limbo, looking out of a smudged up window

Yesterday's answer was: Tom Waits, "Time."  Kurt got it right.

***

I got a tea ball and some loose leaf tea grown and packed in China.  I love the tea ball!  I'm a tea baller now.  I'm ballin' tea right now.

***

"Sweetie, I love you, but your tendency to blow things out of proportion is not something I can deal with when we are not together." --- text from LD

Reasonable brain: "She's right. I should get a sense of perspective."

Sad sensitive brain: "Then don't send me passive aggressive, annoyed texts that you know will set me off in the first place, you jerk!"

Real brain: [wisely does not reply at all]

***

Mr. Richard, the science teacher, and I have set up an after-school class.  Well, "class" is stretching it. It is an hour-long outdoor game activity.  We thought up variants of different playground games, and are letting first- and second-graders go wild with them.  For this we are getting paid $60 each.

In some ways I have it unreasonably good.

How many times can it escalate till it elevates to a place I can't breathe?

Hysterical.  Called brother and unloaded on him.  Called Friar.  Even asked if I could go to his house just so I wouldn't be along.  I've never had a problem with being alone before.  He was out doing errands with kids.  I sucked it up and pulled it together and went to the library to get a backlog of grading done.  Stayed at the library until closing.

While I was there, a high school girl came up and asked me to help with a math problem from a test she was doing online.  It had to do with finding the original amount if you know what the percentage is.  I showed her how to set up the equation and then divide by both sides.  Later on she came up again and asked me about a problem involving two cars of different speeds and how often they pass each other on a track. I didn't really have any idea to solve that one.  I'm a teacher and I have a master's degree.  Ha ha!  I'm such a fraud.

***

Texting with LD didn't go very well.  I compared her to a happy prisoner, brainwashed into thinking she needed to comfort her captor.  She agreed with the assessment but said she wasn't very happy about it.  I said she didn't owe him anything other than a relationship with his children, but that she was deluded into believing she owes him a wife.  She didn't argue that either.  Then I asked her to stop texting for a bit because it was devolving into accusation and resentment and was killing me.  I sent her a short email, though, saying that I'd be there if she really needed me.

Worked out.  Took a sedative.  Started drinking.  Got a call from T-Bone and Courtney to go eat dinner, but I was at the library when they asked, and anyway I had plans with the Friar already set.  Went out to dinner with the Friar, then drinking at Sports Bar and then the Hangout, where we played a little video trivia and such.

Friar took me home, but I don't have clear memories of it.

Mood: hysterical/suicidal

Why does my life have to be so small? Yet death is forever

The final day of LD's visit before her flight back to Europa tomorrow morning while I'll be at work.

I texted and arranged that she'd meet me right after work today.  We went to Target and she bought her son some of those Skylanders that the kids love so much these days.  Then back to my house where we talked and had a last evening together.  I tried my best to plead my case: that we have an unusually intimate bond; that she's a captive who's deluded into wanting to comfort her captor; that her situation is sick and unhealthy and a break-up would be better in the long run; that she should model a live of love and support rather than passive-aggressive silence for her kids.

But she wants to go try to make her "family" work.

I shut down and tensed up.  I literally could not respond.  LD got hysterically tearful.  But despite everything, there was a farewell dinner at Zaftig's house that she was supposed to go to, and Zaftig kept texting every few minutes to see if she was coming.  We cried and kissed and whispered but we couldn't get control.  But she had to go to this dinner.  LD insisted on me attending (despite yesterday's awkwardness), because she wasn't quite ready to let go yet.  Neither was I, because I came along.  Eyeball was there, and to our surprise, Muffin was as well.  Nothing was said about LD and I arriving together.  It was calm and peaceful, sort of.

Eventually it was time for me to go back.  LD drove me back to my place where we had more heartbreak drama in the car (Zaftig texting her twice more, because she's an interfering meddlesome old harridan I suppose).  And eventually, again, I had to go and she had to go back for good.  I just said "Be safe" and got out of the car and went inside.

I knew she was going to clear her head.  I knew we'd be on hiatus and our contact would slow down.  I didn't know she'd already made her mind up to start yet again to make it work with Kraut.  The same thing she's been doing, passively, for three years, hating it and not speaking to Kraut's family, she thinks she needs to give another shot.

I can't take it.

Mood: suicidal

With so much sea between us

It's a late work day but we didn't have a meeting.  Still, because Ms. Yule and I are basically rewriting the third grade curriculum from the bottom up, she and I stayed after school to create the midyear progress reports that we will fill out and share with parents at conferences.

***

LD is back from Boot State.  She, Zaftig, and a mutual friend (who I don't remember mentioning before, but even if I did will henceforth be known as Eyeball) went out to cocktails and then dinner.  She texted me several times, extremely drunk.  I was hesitant to go to Zaftig's house, especially with Eyeball there, but I did.  On Zaftig's drunken suggestion, I built up a fire in their outside firepit, despite the bitter chill.  We sat around talking, or at least they rambled drunkenly.  Over the course of the brief evening, I had to leave the room several times due to Eyeball's constant mention of Kraut.  They'd be talking about hair color, and apropos of not much, Eyeball would say, "But it's not as dark as Kraut's hair!'  Or during the fire building, out of the blue, "Remember that fire Kraut and 74 built?"  Finally, when she went on and on about the best things to do in the medieval village where Kraut and LD live, I couldn't take it any more.  I leapt up, scowled a terse, "Goodnight," and strode for the door.

LD followed me and we had a little talk in the hallway where she tried to calm me down.  As I say, they were pretty drunk, so I'm not sure my bitchy petulant flouncing made a particularly heavy impression.  Still, thought, this evening was LD's plan to show Zaftig and I that we're all friends and we could sit together without there being any awkwardness between us.  So much for that idea.  I'm not sure if she was deliberately taking little passive-aggressive shots at me and LD, or if she really was oblivious to what she was saying, but it hit me in the nerve, repeatedly.  I'm just so sensitive, he shrilled, shaking his tiny fist futilely. 

Mood: enraged/despondent

I can try all I want to find the will, but there ain't no sympathy

This morning LD flew off to see her siblings and parents in Boot State for three days.  Zaftig and their hick friend dropped LD off at the airport, and then I drove down to say goodbye while she waited for her flight.  I brought her a book I'd bought for her kids, and she handed me some lotion that she accidentally packed but couldn't take along because it was a terrorist-friendly seven ounce package.  We sat in the lounge for twenty minutes or so, just being together.  We have to sneak around like teenagers under watchful parents, and we act that way too.  Seriously, some of our text conversations would probably revolt people.

***

Went for a walk with the dogs with Neighbor Dale.  I bet people think we're gay.  Two dudes, just walking their dogs in the gayborhood.  Gayin' it up.

One of my mother's front crowns fell out the other day, so she is refusing to leave the house on the grounds of "looking like a raggedy old witch."  I went over and brought her some groceries, then watched some "Modern Family," a show I haven't seen in a few years.  Some of the characters have aged rapidly; the daughters look like 35 year olds.  The writing is still sharp.  I didn't belly laugh or anything, but I admired the wittiness and the rapid-fire dialogue.  Ah, the American sitcom.  It makes us forget our pains for a brief half hour.

***

Back to work tomorrow.  I requested an unprecedented three personal days --- Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday --- last week in anticipation of LD's visit.  (And am I ever glad I did.)  I've sort of been coasting at The Job lately, not really shining in my new role.  So it's time to step it up.  Starting tomorrow.

Mood: sad

Your leaving breaks me like a bone

in media res

In the morning hung out with LD and had sushi lunch, then a quick walk in the unseasonably freezing weather.  And then came a goodbye; she is going to visit her parents in Boot State and will be flying back to her husband and children in Europa in a week.  The real reason, though, is that the outrage of 74 and Zaftig at this affair ensure we will probably not see one another socially this trip.  Cannot tear away, but should.  It's all messed up.  Very lachrymose.

Invited to go out to dinner with the Friar, Sonar, and the president of Auric's personal indie record label.  Sonar was all mopey about the fact that Sonar's Gorgeous Wife has told him in no uncertain terms that she wants a divorce.  He has managed to talk her into a trial separation instead.  She is "the love of his life."  They have two kids.  I feel for him.  Their marriage has been rocky for a few years now, though, so I doubt there will be a drastic schism in the immediate future.

After a vaguely unsatisfying dinner of well-made but pretentious nouveau-garde cuisine and bemusing craft cocktails, we absconded to Venue K, where Friar's friends Happy Garden were playing.  We had a little private suite with a booth to watch them.  I was too gloomy to be out.  Insides in turmoil.  No joy in Mudville.  I texted Uber and went back home alone.  Friar was too busy organizing his upcoming (putative) music festival to notice.  I took a sedative.  Texted LD a bit and slept.

mood: despondent

That was called love for the workers in song

Well, here I am again. I got used to the damn thing, and it's cheaper than therapy.

I had a pretty good final week of school. I didn't get many end-of-year gifts and nothing fancy, but I did get plenty of compliments, and that's all I expected. J's parents bought me lunch on the last day. L2's mother said she wanted me to move up to first grade so he could have me again next year. My secret favorite Q's father said he had initial concerns about a male K teacher, but "getting you was the best thing that could have happened to her."

Most of the week was taken up with visiting the first grade classrooms; having the kids write cards for the summer birthday kids; and doing easy final-week things like finishing "This year I learned..." in writing and "How many days are left in school if ten are crossed off our calendar?" type word problems in math. The very last day I told the kids that the most important thing I wanted them to remember all year was this:

Be nice to people who have less talent or power than you do.

I hope it stuck.

***

I hadn't been taking my Happy Pills for the last ten days, through a combination of laziness, sickness and the accompanying bizarre sleep schedule, and a vague interest in seeing what would happen. I think it was a bad idea, and I'm starting again. As Friar said: "If you had diabetes, you wouldn't want to go off your meds just to 'see what would happen,' would you? If you need them, you need them." I think he's right.

Most people, for example, would not have been totally depressed, as I was, on Sunday. Saturday, I'd spent a pleasant evening at Hangout II, joking and talking with good friends (Friar, K, L --- this guy) and a few people I didn't know, including a very attractive, drunk woman who hung on me and kept kissing me and pressing my hand between her legs. L flicked a lit cigarette into my face hard at my request. I drank a shot that seemed to be made of Tabasco, and possibly bacon. We went back to Friar's house (where I'd drunkenly and erroneously thought I'd left my car). Friar promptly passed out in his bed, so drunk girl and I hung out in his living room, blasting music until 4:00 a.m when we collapsed on his couch.

Sounds fun. Was fun. So why the depression? If you have to ask, you'll never understand. Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing fantasy from reality. Or rather, fantasy from the probable.

I'm not sure I should blog about such personal stuff. It makes me introspective. I feel like it helps me sort my thoughts into a semblance of rationality, but you know, I think when I instead pass over the personal in silence, that helps me not be so jittery about the past. Which is probably more helpful.

Oh yeah --- and I should have done my assessments last week. Like, finished Tuesday. It's no surprise to people who read this that I'm a procrastinatin' fool. So it'll be a late night. Oh well, nothing new.

Also, I may have ringworm. Awesome!

Say yes to a real life ambition

The first graders in Ms. N's class are doing a unit on Australia. I do a pretty decent Australian accent (as long as the Australian is a drunk and very excited Steve Irwin), so Ms. N invited me to her class to read a book on koalas and talk to the kids about the local fauna, all in character. I thought it went all right, though as with everything in my life the event suffered from poor to no planning. For example, Ms. N asked me, as if I were a real visitor the kids didn't know, my name. I stared in blank panic for a couple of seconds before blurting, "Uh... Cassowary Brisbane?" Smooth!

Ms. N was looking even lovelier than usual, if that's possible, in a short-sleeved pink dress. She has said to me, jokingly, on a few occasions since our conference in Arizona that she's "going through withdrawal" from not hanging around me and feels "deprived" without me making jokes constantly. This cannot mean anything more significant than she enjoyed my company as a coworker, and it would be very bad for my health to become fruitlessly enamored of yet another gorgeous woman who happens to like talking to me occasionally.

In reality, women like her just don't settle for guys with my... features. She's a literate, funny, Ivy League-educated goddess, while I am a witty curmudgeon who looks like a hobbit with Down syndrome. (In the past, people have said I resemble Tobey Maguire, but now that I think about it, he looks like a hobbit with Down syndrome too.) It's ridiculous of me to even be writing about this. In fact, I have to go.

If it's information you want, you can get it from the police

I was at a friendly lunch that the Head threw for the teachers a while back. Now, I've mentioned before that the Prestigius faculty boasts an inordinate number of model-beautiful women, and I'm not exaggerating. But there's one teacher in particular who I think stands out. Slightly tall but not stork-like, blond hair, huge bust, thin waist, swaying hips, great legs, large eyes, sexy mouth, the works. Actually, her type of looks are not what attract me (my head tends to be turned by dark-haired, elfin types), but I'd be willing to bet that 95 out of 100 men would pick her out as the most beautiful woman at Prestigius. If I were casting a movie about Helen of Troy, I'd put her in the title role. So anyway.

A lot of teachers bring their spouses or boyfriends, and Ms. Helen comes in with her boyfriend... and I'm bemused. The guy is average height, sort of doughy, balding, and generally homely. He's not flashy. He does not move with the grace of a dancer or the quiet power of an athlete.

Sure, he's probably rich or something, but I decided that this man was put on earth to be the living embodiment of hope to all single, unattractive guys. Good for you, Homely Fellow dating the most gorgeous woman at Prestigius! You are a hero to us all!

***

I think I lost points with the Vice Head when I turned in a proposal (reimbursement sheet) for an upcoming conference without any information about how much it costs or what it's about, and under "In what way do you anticipate this activity will benefit Prestigius," I wrote "Ongoing education = more skilled teachers = school bragging rights."

Maybe I should take more things more seriously.

There was a band playing somewhere off-screen

A boy and a girl met for a late movie. They were both fairly damaged goods. The girl talked about her sister, who was in a mental ward and constantly on medication. The boy told about his cousin who had tried to kill her own mother. Madness ran in both their families, and they were both rather socially inept.

The movie --- a quirky indie flick about familiar relations, leavened with slapstick --- was pretty good. The Texas air in October, nearing midnight, had a slight chill. They walked together around the modern, hipster shopping district near the theater for a bit. Then they went for a drink at a nearby bar where three members of the staff stopped by to greet (or hug hello, depending on gender) the boy. The boy was well-liked at the bar. The boy and girl talked with each other easily on a variety of topics, and found each other funny. The boy tried, and failed in his socially stunted, shy way to ask the girl if she wanted to go on an actual date instead of this ambiguous hanging out. The girl gave a mysterious, non-committal response that indicated neither the presence nor the lack of interest.

The boy went home feeling as if a connection had been missed, but decided that a lack of response was equivalent to a negative one. But then as he lay in bed, he received the first in a string of text messages from the girl. She wrote that she was sorry for not being more enthusiastic, and that she did have fun with him.

The boy was confused, but he supposed the girl was, too.

That's what friends are for

Maddening Angel and I had made tentative plans to go hiking, but I was feeling slightly anxious about preparing for my interview at Prestigious Private (I've been trying to pretend to myself that my future happiness and confidence doesn't rest upon this opportunity) . Sensing my panic, she very kindly called a couple of library branches on my behalf, got the librarians to find and pull some books on my theme, and then drove me to the two places to pick them up.

We had lunch together at a trendy new Mexican place in her parents' neighborhood. I had delicious fish tacos in blue tortilla shells. MA never eats fish tacos because she says they evoke images of eating smelly pussy. Sorry. Just reporting.

She's recently broken up with her latest boyfriend (he did something crazy, but she was getting tired of him anyway). She said she planned on being celibate for a while. I said, "Sure, until you meet a tall guy who plays bass and treats women like shit. Then you'll think, 'That's the guy for me!'"

It's a good thing she has a pal like me to tell her these important truths about herself.

It started ice cream social nice

I started this blog a couple of years ago ostensibly to chronicle the long, arduous road to getting public school certification. However, the real reason I started it was to sort out the emotions I was going through then, vulnerable after my break-up and getting mixed messages from the Maddening Angel. The blog's been as schizophrenic, and as flighty, as me; basically, I talk about anything on my mind. When I detail my personal life, it can get pretty pathetic. I mean, honesty is embarrassing. But hell, I'm masked, anonymous, and not proud.

Anyway. Last night I went to see Casablanca (for the sixth time) at a midnight theater with EPALG. (That movie's so overrated --- it's just a bunch of famous quotes strung together. So hackneyed.)

So look, I know this isn't a date, because I'm fair to middling at reading people's interest levels, or at least I think I am. But I can't help wishing it was, because bloody hell, she's a goddess (gorgeous; highly educated; witty as hell; has read more books, and seen more classic films, than anyone I know, including me). And I'm sort of this twisted ugly little gnome guy, so I really enjoy her company.

And while most of my friends are attractive, outgoing women and I've been married and I'm not exactly socially inept, I don't really understand how singles interact. Because, it seems to me, a single girl and a single guy having a late drink and then seeing a movie at midnight --- isn't that something that could be a date? So maybe I should have tried to turn it into a date, you know. But I don't want to do anything stupid and ruin what could be beginning of a beautiful friendship (ha! see what I did there?).

I mean, I'd like to tell her how great she is, but my problem is I build up unrealistic expectations and hopes, and then come off as, well, clingy and pathetic (as Ram would attest). Either that or I stay too grounded and appear indifferent (as has also happened).

To paraphrase Holden Caulfield, don't every do anything with anybody. You just end up missing everybody.

Time transported

So, out of the blue, Ram contacted me via instant message! It has been a long, long time since we communicated, and much longer still since we actually spoke.

Immediately and in rapid succession, she informed me that she was getting married soon, had a new good job, and had lost a lot of weight. (Pfft, she looked terrific before.)

Well. So I can only assume that she wanted me to express some sort of regret at losing my shot at her, so she could feel even better about the good changes that are happening in her life? Yeah, sod that for a lark.

In all honesty, I don't begrudge her individual happiness at all, except insofar as misery loves company in general.

She also said she thought that the Maddening Angel and I would have been dating by now. Which, unfortunately, shows that she utterly misunderstood that situation. Of course, it was a very easy situation to misinterpret. Weird times.

Gone so fast

It starts with just a little glance now
Right away you're thinkin 'bout romance now
You know you ought to take it slower
But you just can't wait to get to know her
--- Beach Boys, "Here Today"

"'And after all,' she said, pouring out the wine, 'why do you pursue me like this? I give you no encouragement, I never have. I told you plainly at Bruton Street that I liked you as a friend but had no use for you as a lover. Why do you persecute me? What do you want of me? If you think to gain your point by wearing me out, you have reckoned short; and even if you were to succeed, you would only regret it. You do not know who I am at all; everything proves it."
--- Patrick O'Brien, Post Captain

It's like Ram wrote that about me, even down to the oh so familiar chastisement, "You don't know me." Uncanny.

***

I was reading a book about animals to the kids at The Job. One of the animals identified was a blue-footed booby. "Hee hee," giggled J, a three-year-old boy. "Booby."

The Beavis and Butthead experience starts early, don't it?

***

The insurance company of the woman who rear-ended my father a few weeks back appears to have admitted responsibility at last. They're paying for the rental car my parents had to get, and have offered a pittance for the value of the totalled vehicle --- but that's better than denying responsibility, as before.

My mother bought a new car, a Kia. They're supposed to be cheap and reliable.

***

Speaking of cars, I met up with the Ex --- who is due to spawn her little bastard next month --- and we completed our last transaction on the car. She paid me the balance of the absurdly tiny price I asked of her for it last year, and I handed over the title. It's the end of another era; there seem to be quite a few little acts of closure in this saga, but then, that's natural, I suppose. When you build a life together over four years or so, the pieces unravel slowly. Some things last longer than you think they will. And there are other things you can never kill.

The world kicks back

An ending fitting for the start
You twist and tore our love apart
Your light fingers through the dark
That shattered the lamp and into the darkness cast us
--- The Libertines, "Can't Stand Me Now"

Working on two take-home tests and studying for two finals. Didn't go to the TriviaBar and no contact with Spooky, except a text from her that she wants her photos back. She's nuts; there's never any middle ground with her; either total adoration or we're utterly finished. And me, I'm not even sure how I feel about the whole thing. If this is it and we are over for real this time, am I sad? Resentful at being somehow "used"? Relieved I don't have to deal with the drama anymore? Optimistically cynical ("oh, well, at least we had a good run")? I honestly don't know.

I'll have to introspect a bit after all this studying is over. ΓΝΩΘΙ ΣΑΥΤΟΝ, I always say.

A curse upon you, Oliver Cromwell

You have robbed our homes and fortunes
Even drove us from our land
You tried to break our spirit
But you'll never understand
The love of dear old Ireland
That will forge an iron will
As long as there are gallant men
Like young Ned of the hill
The Pogues, "Young Ned Of the Hill"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Our own personal Fairytale of New York --- the weekend trip to see an exhibit at the Met --- is cancelled, as Spooky has apparently been advised not to fly by her doctors. There's fluid in her abdominal cavity and she goes in for outpatient surgery Friday. Ugh.

So instead we were going to stay at a nice hotel here in town, but since Babydaddy has to work tomorrow, that's out also.

So instead of that, Spooky and I went out to eat at a fine restaurant in Deep Ellum. A four-course meal and a bottle of wine, costing $180 (including a rather lavish lagniappe). Excellent food, really first-rate. Boy, were we full. We stopped off at the Hangout for a few rounds of video gaming and then to bed.

Poor Maddening Angel went in for an MRI and other tests today because of her seizure a while back. It was almost certainly her medication that triggered it, but she might be genetically susceptible to seizures so she's undergoing a battery of tests. They're recording her brainwaves for 72 hours, so she has to walk around with electrodes glued to her head with wires leading down to a little box disguised as a not very stylish purse. Spooky and I drove her to the doctor's and back home.

In other news, I stupidly left my cell phone in the leg pocket of my cargo pants and then put the pants in the washing machine. My phone was submerged for about one minute before I realized where it was, but the damage had been done. I fished the phone out, its little window dead black and filled halfway up with soapy water. As I held it there sadly, it dripping water out of its seams, my mother suggested that I try calling someone to see if it still worked.

So I had to go buy a new goddam phone --- the cheapest model they had, for $130. Cripes. The man at the counter helpfully informed me that if I signed a two-year renewal of my contract, I could have a whopping $30 off the retail price of any phone! Well, that's off. As in sod. I'm going to quit Cingular in May. I hear T-Mobile is good.

To supplicate is not the way

Well, maybe we could go to bed
And I could help you run the three-minute mile
But first you gotta take the drinks
You gotta learn to fake the smiles
She was a piece of past her prime real estate
A late great tit turnstile
--- Jude, "Prophet"

Today was H Elementary observation day. In the first hour, I was back in the sixth grade class in which, last time, someone had stolen a laser pointer before I got there. This time, it was not quite as bad. Although there was once again a chaotic bathroom break which took up a half hour of the whole class' time, afterwards they corrected some TEKS practice tests. I was pleasantly surprised at the number of kids (about half or so) who seemed genuinely interested in getting the answers right and showing what they knew.

In the second hour, I was in the third grade class. It was ESL, but this period at least was in English only. I was blown away by this teacher. She was loving, laughed often, obviously had established procedures and guidelines, and kept great discipline. I got the sense that there was very little fear of punishment here, as in every other class ("you owe me twenty [school treat] dollars!" is the most common teacher response to misbehavior), but order was kept through respect for the teacher and her high expectations. When one child didn't understand something, she went over it patiently three different ways. At the end of the class, I went up and told her that I thought she was great and I was highly impressed. She replied that I had made her day; I hope she knows what a rare commodity she is. Probably --- she said she'd been teaching for over thirty years.

I went home and goofed around, then picked up the Maddening Angel from work. Once at her house, she fed me a veggie chik patty with cheese. At her suggestion, I picked up Spooky (who lives quite close) and the three of us watched Corpse Bride at MA's house. Say, that's a great movie. Afterwards, I drove Spooky home. I wish we could have some time together, but what with Babydaddy and Baby and whatnot, I don't exactly want to hang out at her place, and she can't come to mine.

Later, on the phone, Spooky asked me, "So, do you and MA always cuddle when you watch movies?" (She had rested her head on my shoulder.) I said, "Hey, she leaned on me. I didn't put my arm around her and pull her close or anything. But... yes."