So Thursday night when Bagchi announced her intentions(http://slashtagpolo.wordpress.com/2012/11/01/day-1-november-1/) to write everyday for 30 days this seemed like an awesome idea. Blogging was certainly an idea that I have toyed with because obviously EVERYONE needs to read the stuff that I think about and clearly this is a just a prelude to my book and movie deals, tours of major cities, world domination etc…
But as you may have noted it is now it is November 3, so I am officially 2 days behind my beloved Bags. Do I make up for it with multiple posts? Just go into December? We’ll see. At this point in the day, I’ve spent so much time dicking around with learning this website and trying to customize it, that I’m kind of ready to get on with my Saturday’s to-do list.
Hey, you may have noticed the use of “dicking” in the previous sentence. There will be swearing, lots of swearing in this here blog. If that makes you twitchy or you’re afraid that the sweet baby Jesus will notice you reading dirty words then I might suggest that you just look at the pretty pictures and move on. My issue with writing/speaking/living is that I don’t really enjoy editing myself. Sure I’ll correct myself for spelling, usage and grammar, but I’d really rather tell you what I’m fucking thinking instead of just smiling benignly and nodding my head in an “Oh, isn’t that nice for you” manner. I spend every work day editing myself. I can’t really swear at the children and I’m definitely not allowed to tell them or their parents what I really think they should do because in today’s world of public education every child is an entitled winner and “the customer is always right.” So, much time is wasted trying to be diplomatic, trying to skirt issues and trying to give people what they want versus what they might need.
Unfortunately, this brings me to my catch-22. I don’t want to edit myself but this is a public forum. I don’t even tweet publicly because who knows who might read my profane thoughts. I’ve felt for years now, that in this sense teachers are not real humans. Yes, we are cyborgs, “Come with me if you want to live.” We are cyborgs that are not supposed to have social lives, voice political opinions, think about sex or be spotted in public. Any teacher who has ever been caught by a student at the grocery store while purchasing a bottle of wine knows exactly what I’m talking about. Any teacher who has ever been asked to take off her “Obama for President” button or to not show a political speech in the classroom because it might sway the fragile minds of our youth (mostly away from their parents’ opinion) knows what I’m feeling. Maybe I’m paranoid. I am relatively certain that there’s a skunk out to get me but more about that later.
On a final note, this is a public forum and while I doubt that they will ever find this and start reading it, I may feel compelled to write about my family. And like all of our families, some of their shit is fucked up.