Alright, here’s my newest epiphany about stuff.  If you know me, you know I’ve been having a little bit of psychological/metaphysical itchiness as of late, and I’ve tried working out exactly what’s up with that, but now I think I’ve got it.  At least in part.  But not really.  If you hate this kind of shit, don’t keep reading!

Teaching has made me into an attention whore.  That’s right.  Now, I’m not entirely sure that I wasn’t a closet attention whore before (after all, I’ve fantasized about being a rockstar, but maybe everybody has?), but being a teacher has certainly sealed the deal, as it were.  All school-year long, I’ve got my own captive little audience (though I try not to lecture, since I suck at it) every hour on the hour during the working day.  Me me me.  Pay attention to me.  Listen to me.  (Obviously this has some disturbing implications for  my motives and methods of teaching, but I’m sure I’ll have time to think about that later.)  And do you know what’s happening this summer?  NO ONE IS PAYING ATTENTION TO ME.  Narcissism?  Check.

Ugh.  Other possible explanations for my current state: More time to think than I’m used to having (today I explained to L my spontaneous, uncontrollable deconstruction of those people who hold advertisement signs at intersections); intellectual understimulation (I’m reading this irritatingly witty but ultimately fluffy novel that needs to be about 400 pages shorter so I can be DONE with it already); legitimate discontent with adult conversation (can we talk about something either of us actually cares about, maybe?); brain tumor (I mean, it’s possible).

Can somebody just suggest a good book for me to read or something? I’m thinking of reading some philosophy, which I KNOW is a bad sign.


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