Interpersonal Communication

So, that committee interview I had last week…yeah. In a story that could only be summed up as “it could only happen to me”, I came across as pompously arrogant in my interview for a position. There’s good news involved in this: I still got the job anyway, teaching Interpersonal Communication. The best news is that Dr. Fox defended me against the criticism. I didn’t think we clicked when I took him over the summer, but I guess he appreciated my frank respect for his teaching style. Well, I got hired. Hurrah! Sure, it’s a formality since my ego already foretold these events, but still, it’s something I’d like to say “look, I’ve done something.” I get the uneasy feeling though that at my wedding, when I say “I do” to my wife and justice, I’m going to be greeted with curious stares. My voice has an unrelenting sarcastic bent to it that is starting to annoy even me. I can’t stand listening to the thoughts in my head now because it doesn’t scream sincerity. On the other hand, I’m still everyone’s new trusted friend because I refuse to say anything that’s not on my mind. I swear, I’d like to become a nice guy because people would be less likely to confide in me as much as they currently do. On the other hand, I’d probably kick myself in the process.

I retired from Salsa Club two days ago, and was immediately approached by Samuel L. Jackson disguised as Nick Fury to join SHIELD. No, that’s not how it happened. I left my post as His Eminence, only to be asked to join Black Ops. I had no clue Salsa Club had a Black Ops division, but I’m sure it wasn’t necessary until now. In the process, I’ve had preliminary discussions about manning Salsa Team. Originally, the idea was to continue in my capacity as Holy United Treasurer for both organizations, but taking over one and shadowing the other isn’t bad. I find it funny that I was adamantly against any participation until someone coined my work as Black Ops. It takes a certain amount of doublespeak and Aesopian language to quell the beast. After all, I am a COMM…not a major. Deity? Specialist? Guru? I’ll stick with specialist at the moment. I did celebrate Monday with the salsa crowd, which was always enjoyable. Sharing the same birthday dance with my sponsor was groovy, despite the fact that we missed half the song. I didn’t get what I truly wanted for my birthday, but I believe I got what I needed. Since the teacher is out of the picture (lamentably), this fall, I’ll be starting fresh. I don’t want to use power to get where I want to be this time around, as anything being close to my neighborhood could be catastrophic. There could be a grad student in the department that works, or…maybe I should just let the network play itself out. I can at least manage that for three months, I suppose.

Quick political aside: when did liberal become a horrible word? How come there have been no Democratic gubernatorial ads in California? Sheesh, I’m no longer the biggest political nut, but this makes me wonder. And if it hasn’t been said, Boston has the greatest fans in the world after what happened at the TD Garden. I would have been irked if 20,000 people mocked my future. If one of my classes starts chanting “California” or “UC Berkeley” at me, so help me, they’ll meet a firing squad. Unless of course, this is when I get my MA and its well known that I’m gone.

I’m currently on my victory tour, fully prepared to register for classes and walk the stage. In my greatness, I bought my gown and cap two weeks before I needed it. In fact, buying it was the first time that I felt that this chapter is definitively over. Misty-eyed? A bit. I’m not quite sure who’s leaving with me, because everyone’s coming back. Maybe I was remembering my year once again and being thankful I made it through. Considering the last couple of months, or this semester in general, I have had trauma after trauma, tragedy after tragedy. The circumstances of being Anthony Guy have been less than ideal. Even so, there’s enough for me to pat myself on the back. I guess my sister was right when she pegged me as a survivor. I keep running into minefields and crawling out. I wouldn’t say that I’m covered in teflon, because there are a few incidents I didn’t extinguish. However, I’m not above slithering to safety, as has become the norm lately. My sleeping patterns have still been horribly altered, and my mind keeps resetting itself whenever I think about what happened this semester. Sure, I’m amazing when it comes to honing my asshole character, such as my CM Punk homage in Story Telling, or my vegetarian assclown leanings in Oral Persuasion. I do miss the side of me that didn’t feel so much, though. I didn’t want to be alone, and I found someone I deeply loved. It hurts picking up the pieces when there shouldn’t be anything but fireworks. I wonder how long I’ll consider the idea of what could have been, what might have been, or what I hope would have been the future. I still sometimes ask myself is there a chance of reconciliation. The future is a curious thing, as is the workings of my mind. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – B.o.B. feat Hayley Williams “Airplanes”

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