Are you ready to get smacked upside the head with some irony? The real meaning of irony, not Alanis Morrisette’s version. I am a very smart English teacher, and this is where my little story begins.
I started graduate school last September, and some might say that it is simultaneously crushing my soul and lifting my hopes and dreams to unreachable heights. One of those new dreams is to teach Composition as a profession because right now I am teaching the Intro to Composition class at my university. Between reading Dante and Poe, Lacan and Derrida, grading a paper that compares being a public speaker to buying Pop Tarts, and working on the side as a spy for the MLA, there’s not a lot of time for personal indulgence.
Blogging obviously took a backseat, but for class today, my kids are supposed to read a piece about the interesting new relationships developing over the internet. What kind of intimacy do we find online? Where does the paradox lie in sharing personal details with strangers? How many times can I use the word “paradox” in one class period? (I will keep count today, I promise.)
I have been most excited for this reading because I might get some of my students to share that they are bloggers. Blogging was incredibly therapeutic for me last year, and I have missed the catharsis of posting my greatest ineptitudes for all to see. I have also missed the community, the reminder that creativity is not a limited commodity, that y’all are super confused and conflicted and cool and that it’s OK for me to be all of those things too. Mostly cool, of course, because someone has to think I’m cool, and Lord knows it’s not my students.
(I told my class last term that I want to meet Celine Dion before I die, and they didn’t even laugh at me in a pitying tone. I don’t think they even know who she is.)
Then today, Youngman Brown commented on my last post to tell me that he missed me. Well, he missed my blogging, but I’m choosing to take it as his missing me because a little self-esteem boost never hurt anyone. Oh hey, Perfect Timing! And Guilt! And Happiness! And the Desire to Eat Cheetos! (What? Cheetos are God’s perfect synthetic food.)
So here I am. Back in the saddle. Or not, because some of you know that I hate horses because they want you to have STDs. The writing might be a mix of my usual blogging style and some pieces that I’m writing for class, but it’ll be here.
Don’t worry. My first mini piece for class was called “Things I Do While In The Bathroom With Unfamiliar Women,” because really, doesn’t it make anyone else uncomfortable to know that someone is standing right over there while you’re trying to take care of some business?
I leave you with that off-putting thought. You’re welcome.