And now, for another one of Mara's pseudo-tragedies:
i'm wilting. i'm drooping and sunshine just makes me tired, dehydrated
and more droopy (not to mention sticky). water doesn't help either.
i'm supposed to be blooming and shooting pollens into the air at 22.
okay. the sucky metaphors aren't working. i'll go literal.
i'm unhappy. not depressed-unhappy, more like the whiny
im-not-getting-my-way brand of unhappiness. which has
been my perpetual state since, i don't know, fifth grade? when
i realized i was a loser because i got along better with boys
(by the way, getting along is an extremely relative term)
and was scared of the girls.
amazing how self-absorption ceases to tire a person. much like
permanent narcissism is the bane of beautiful people. (see? hehehe.)
anyway, since i always take myself seriously, under the guise of an
i-don't-give-a-rat's-ass aura of course, i will spend a whole blog post
discussing and dissecting this little tragedy of mine. (i'm loving the
endless supply of cyberspace to fill with my incessant rantings, by the way.
internet is truly the most useful useless thing man has invented.)
back to my tragedy.
(hmmm, sucky metaphors, notes within notes and an oxymoron.
this blog is getting more promising. moving on...)
i still haven't wrapped my head around the idea of me as a teacher (i'm still trying not to gag at the mere mention of it) even after almost two years of the daily torture of standing in front of a seemingly unending parade of bored, uninterested, distracted eyes completely insensitive to my struggle to not spray too much spit. don't they realize how painful it is to be icky and awkward in front of people you don't even like but by some unfortunate cosmic joke you end up being a teacher to?
i mean really, there are only, like, five worse things in life: tsunamis, global warming, poverty, the Mindanao conflict and kris aquino. (okay, SIX worse things. i forgot her icky partner, boy abunda.)
and it's not my fault, mind you. my main charm has always been that i am supremely interesting. and let's not forget my stupendous communicative skills. i'm the life of the party without even trying. it's their fault i don't like them. (and i'm exaggerating my stalwart qualities because it's difficult when you let critics judge for themselves - you always come out less interesting than you actually are.)
don't even get me started about the people i work with. i mean, really. don't. they have internet connections now- much to the utter shock and amazement of my Manileno ex-friend who thought we didn't have electricity in Iligan. (ex-friend meet Maria Cristina Falls, MCF meet the idiot who thinks electricity is shipped from Luzon to Mindanao) as for my co-workers, perhaps it would be suffice to say had i the liberty (or the guts, more like) to talk about them, this blog would be waaay more interesting.
anyway, despite my roundabout (but entertaining, i'm sure) way of expressing my zany self, i do have a point and that is that i have had a realization: for some insane reason, i've convinced myself that this profession is a cross between a death sentence and keloidal scars therefore i have to be miserable. that i haven't given myself even the briefest chance to NOT be miserable. because, then, well, where's the fun in that? seriously, is there anything more boring than a 22-year old SINGLE teacher whose HAPPY with what she does??? that's like a one-way ticket to spinsterhood in my book!
i think i just blasphemed my mom's profession to hell and back (twice in the same sentence) but i'm not talking about this from an adult's point of view. all adults think all professions are to be thought highly of and that teaching, beyond all professions, is the most noble.
but i come from the extreme side of the spectrum here, where teaching is for people who want to "settle down" and be "stable" whereas, "settling down", "stable" and "I" will not be found in the same sentence until ten years from now. (if you can kindly ignore the fact that they just did in the sentence before this.)
there is no room for spunk in this profession. and your idealism gets shot down the drain in an hour-and-a-half to an hour-and-a-half frequency. people think it's about helping the country have a bright and promising future. but there's nothing bright or promising about the faces i see everyday. they just look plain bored.
and do not get me started on the COMPLETE and UTTER LACK OF CUTE GUYS. i swear, any hope for a love life in this environment is down the drain. all i see are married men, old weird types and male children. i have had cute students. but they are INFANTS.
okay. maybe i should give more credit. my students, i mean. but see, i'm just not big enough to. which is the point of this whole convoluted blog, really. teaching is not inherently sucky, in fact, i'm sure there are a lot of arguments for it being noble (all of which escapes me at the moment). it's only sucky because i am simply NOT A TEACHER.
tada. yep, that was the big conclusion. i know you knew that all along, that i'm not college professor material, that is - despite the fact that i am. that was the premise after all. but i'm not here to be brief. i'm here to be brilliantly annoying and funny at the same time, despite the lack of any real insights to share. a feat, unsurpassed by millions of wanna-be ranters out there.
as for my little dilemma. rest assured, i will not attempt to resolve it until my next psuedo-tragedy. lest i doom the cyberspace of a rant-free blog.