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Cute Kitty Photo (Plus Bonus Text)

October 7, 2011

I hate this time of year. You get the clouds closing in, you get the fall clothing out. You get umbrellae leaving wet spots on bus seats. Iced tea turning to totally subpar Lipton chai that I don’t know why I bought when the Stash Double Spice that has conclusively demonstrated its perfection to me time and again was sitting right the fuck beside it. (It must have been on sale. Is there anything I won’t do to save 30 cents at Safeway?) The leavetaking of leaves leaving, soaked shoes slipping on red maple tapestries: fall living up to its name. 10,000% humidity bewildering the hair of the women. The whole clammy city sniffling, shivering, sniveling, on the cusp of a headcold that never quite comes or goes, while the sun taunts one and all with 30-second appearances that make us believe for half a second that maybe it’s no longer necessary to have every light on. But no sooner have we flipped a switch and sat back down than the clouds have returned.

(Yeah but on the other hand at least it’s not snowing and everything’s green and fresh and the disappointing tea will be gone eventually or I could just get a box of Stash now irregardless and this and that. I hear what you’re saying. My grudge against the first half of October is mostly personal, and plus I’m a little discombobulated from accidentally breaking up with my therapist the other day [full disclosure: I strongly suspect that she broke up with me, but it happened so fast that I can’t be sure]. The weather thing is just pathetic fallacy. Fine. Take your base, asshole!)

In an effort to ward off the encroaching darkness and stay/become connected with teaching and writing communities while beefing up (now there’s a phrasal verb I’ll be sure to teach my ESL classes on day one!) my C-to-the-ma’fuckin’-V, I’m doing a lot of volunteering and training and general putting-forth of my name for interesting type projects–one of which came through today, which is exciting. Essentially I’ll be herding some literary cats, doing some minor editing, and messing around on WordPress as usual.

The gig comes with the option of having a link to my own website appear on the collaborative site I’ll be working on, except my real actual name will appear on that site, so the weird question of Should I revert to using my real name here at Beard Headquarters, or do I blog (“blog” as a verb–eugh!) with such unabashed unprofessionalism and consummate profanity that my linguistic exuberance, thoughtful approach to thinking, good references, volunteer experience, extensive education, admirably Romanesque sentence structure, and unwavering enthusiasm for education and literacy will make less of an impression on hypothetical employers than the fact that in my free time I occasionally like me a good eff curse? raises itself once again.

I mean, do I really have anything to be ashamed of? I have, after all, dedicated entire posts to the place of swears in English and the poetic traditions that make rap so kickass. Lessons on the same topics are taught (formally and in-) to advanced ESL students, particularly the younger ones, all the time.

On the other hand, pace Aristotle, if there’s one defining characteristic of human beings, it ain’t rationality. I once attended a job interview where I was asked to defend, several times, my interest in creative writing. They were genuinely concerned that I would write e-mails to customers in rhyming couplets, I guess? That’s not an experience I ever want to have again.

“So, you like writing” [distasteful grimace].

On the other, other hand, how can I have two lives when I’m only one person? This is a strategy that has seemed appealing to many but has never worked out long-term for anyone. There’s a dishonesty in it that wins the day eventually. Take, for example, the high percentage of women who moonlight as strippers or prostitutes while completing their PhDs. Someone always figures it out before the dissertation defence date. If that example doesn’t resonate with you, simply reflect on how many characters in Roman comedy take dirty beatings or end up having to marry their own rapist because of some kind of identity confusion.

I’m going to have to do some more cogiplation (=cogitating and contemplation) on this.

Meanwhile, I keep reading and hearing that images are an important part of blogging. People don’t like just reading words! Text stresses them out! Show them a damn picture! This is the internet, not a book or something! What’s wrong with you?! Okay, suggestion noted. Heeeeeeere’s Seneca!

(Does my gross bandaged toe in the bottom right ruin it for you? Write to your WordPress congressman and demand the installation of photo cropping technology!)

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