Saturday, Oct. 19, 2002 - 8:19 PM

Speak of the devil- Byron just called.

Apologized for not calling in 2 months. Wants to hire me.Telling me this story about a hooker he rescued 3 different times- why can't I have a normal boss? Anyway, it may not happen, Champion Martial Arts want me to teach and also administration. For once, just once, I'd like a normal, ordinary, boring desk job. Oh for the life of a stamp-licker, or a form-signer! I bet they don't have paranoid bosses!

(*sigh*)


11:18pm

Baffled by my sudden rise in hits for the last few days- 206 on Thursday! What gives? Is it the webrings? The Diary Review (I doubt it, it was appended to my old review.) What, forsooth? What?

Since seeing and talking to Andrew Jones (frosh roommate) yesterday, I've been wondering more about how I'd do as a teacher. For my whole life, I've always thought "No way in hell." However, teaching offers a lot of job security (read: there aren't enough teachers.) I'm not too sure about the salary, TFS teachers used to complain sometimes. No one seems able to tell me, either. And while I've come to terms with the fact I'm too ass-lazy to be a professor (I wish I was really motivated, sometimes; motivated to do anything- even really motivated to do anything at all, like wearing underwear on my head and worshipping my left knee. I'd like that kind of kooky passion), I don't know what kind of teacher I'd make. Probably an ok highschool prof.; don't think I could see my way to emptying pee out of shoes and wiping snot off walls, God help my own kids... Anyway, probably time to finally read "What Colour Is Your Parachute?" Might get some clues there.


Readin' More with the Freud and the cannibalism and the self. Oy.
Listenin' to the sound of my own coughing?
Thinkin' about what a long night it's going to be if Byron keeps telling me more Adventures.

Back - Forth


This is a Diaryland project. Background image by Digital Hooligan (mah man!) If you try to steal bits of it, I'll come to your house and eat your goldfish. So don't.


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Past Entries:

* The Last


* Looks like Adam's OUTTA HERE!

* I ain't voting for the city transit-fouling wussy.

* Why do I feel like an angsty teen again? (Maybe it's my fault; I should take it with a grain of salt...)

* Where are we now?