Mutiny Rising

Being a teacher has special perks that I’ve grown to love. For instance, I can access the building at anytime I choose. That sounds sexy in theory, but in practice, I find myself in the office on Sundays doing research and catching up on my work. My professors insist that I call them by their first names; however, I decline out of polite deference, because these people are still who I admire. Maybe next semester I’ll drop the formality, but for now, respect is still my primary focus. Whenever there’s a test assigned, I get to proctor and watch as my kids seethe with callous rage.

Wait, that last line…that didn’t come out right.

Today was the first exam, and I laughed my derriere off when I looked at the test to find that none of the items I grilled them on were apparent. My moral standard involving grading is pretty simple: you deserve to fail if you did not study when the material was bequeathed. On the other hand, what happened today was not in my realm of acceptance, because tests should be fair. I could not explain what happened on the test, but I went with it as a learning experience. I have a job to do, and I don’t question/tempt fate. Some of the items were rough, but then again, making it to grad school wasn’t a piece of cake. Actually, it was. I received my degree yesterday to see the cruelest joke: Arnold’s signature. Few people outside of California can say their degree was administered by an actor, let alone the Terminator.

In perhaps a show of bad faith, I gave my kids back their papers, which I’m quite sure some did not appreciate. Keep in mind the constraints, namely, the morning test had effectively rocked their minds. I heard one girl remark her grade was due to me not explaining the assignment. At that moment, I truly understood the dichotomy between student and teacher. If a kid gets an A, they earned it. If they get less, the teacher gave it. I’m sorry, but that’s not how my offense works. I laid out within the syllabus my expectations, and not all of them met my requirements. Some also tried to play me for a fool concerning absences. Again, I laugh. I was an undergrad once. Did not have enough fun as an undergrad, but I was one all the same. Estimating my total workload, I’d wager that I’m at roughly 250 kids, and they all expect my full attention. They’ll get it for as long as they attend my class, heavy emphasis on “attend.” Some of us never got the idea that we’re adults now; our actions have consequences. I ran into Dr. Fox today, and that triggered my impulse to pull out a ruler, my weapon of choice. Like teacher, like student aspiring to become teacher.

Current Track – Richard Wagner “Ride of the Valkyries”

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Penalty

The honeymoon’s over as I prepare to submit my bid for the greatest person to walk this planet. I’ve hit a couple snags in the last couple of weeks, but that’s more or less due to the weird luck I have concerning the fairer sex. I’ve forgotten about those matters since the new toy is in the garage, but I’ll be damned if other forces did not pursue interference. One situation, I’d like to apologize for, but the other party happens to be stubborn and filled with righteous indignation. In another case, the other party holds a double standard and shows remorse for her actions, yet I’m bugged with the act. It’s always easier to say you’re sorry when you screwed someone else over. Hmmm, I think I just committed a double standard myself. No, not quite, but there is a bit of confusion going on in my head. And of course, I remember the girl from last year. In a little over a month, we’d celebrate our anniversary.

Fast forward and I’m dealing with questions that I don’t want answered. Hell, I don’t want those questions asked either. This is the alleged “time of my life” but I feel distracted with regards to what I could be possibly doing with my time. I like my job, but the office isn’t all that comforting. There are whispers that I’m hard to get along with, yet no one wants my perspective about the situation. Of course they don’t want my opinion, because my tone and attitude rubs people the wrong way. Care if I’m being rubbed the wrong way? And no, I don’t believe in smiling, forgiving, forgetting, etc.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t is the gun pointed towards me. Sure, I could acquiesce and be nicer…but that’s not me. Sure, I could be quiet…but then that wouldn’t be true to my core, and people would become suspicious. How do I know? Tried it today, and next thing you know, I’m on the receiving end of a frantic text apology. I do not hide the mistakes I’ve made, but my candid nature goes both ways. I had issues when I opined I hated being single, but when I now say that I’m better now because of the Mustang, I get pegged as shallow and shortsighted. The car isn’t a substitute for a decent relationship, but it is quite a prize that people say I deserve. I also deserve a partner who has my back…or a supportive, nonjudgmental cohort. The road to greatness will be paved over the bones of those who disbelieve. I got into the program based on my own merits. I bought my car with my own capital. Damn it, I will succeed with my own style. I’d much rather have a staff surround me, but I’ve gotten my (rightful) reputation by taking on (and down) any challenger. Triple H once said that he had a one way ticket to hell and wondered who would come with him. I feel the same way, yet this time…it’s unscripted. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Mutemath “Typical”

Complimentary Mood

My legend as a person continues to grow on an hourly basis. Sometimes, I throw out a few choice lies to enhance my myth. There are other times when the situation hits me in the face, and I roll with the punches. Finally, there are the instances where I just say “meh” and let the cards ride. For starters, I must begin with the obligatory Mustang fellating session, while casually reminding everyone that “My car is better than you. I am better than you.” Scene.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that this life hasn’t grown on me. Grad student, 22, teaching, new convertible…this is the life that my forefathers foretold. Well, they’d probably foretell it if they knew what life would have been like in the future. Considering I’m black, one of my ancestors probably wasn’t Nostradamus or da Vinci, but a spade’s a spade. I used my time in class to run a few simulations, as well as show off my freakishly talented core. My dating simulation worked pretty well, except for the fact that the human race would be dead if it required my Wednesday kids to mate. I can’t believe the males had nerves of cotton. For this case, I’m thinking of cotton to be flimsy and useless if not used to complete malleable potential. However, that was fun. One class had a mock wrestling show which did not include one single awesome promo; go figure. Lastly, I challenged a student to salsa with me, and she was blown away because there’s a stereotype that professors aren’t supposed to be cool and fun. That was bucked the minute I asked one of my classes to render me 25 compliments. A few of them said I was sexy. That’s all I have to say. My classes have become complete cults of personality, and I love it. Why? I happen to love my personality. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Florence + The Machine “Dog Days Are Over”

Validation by Acceleration

Because “Validation by Masturbation” wasn’t such a great first time. Zing.

Week two of grad school, and I’m slowly realizing that I may not have time to update this thing as much as I want. But that’s alright, because I can say I’ve done things the right way. Note, I’ve decided to take inventory of my current life while stroking my new United States Championship belt that complements Captain America’s shield. Did I mention my massive WWE Shop order? Yes, I’ve been rocking the Nexus armband, so join me as I say “sieg heil!” (HIGH EVOLUTIONARY!). I insist that you join me. No really, I insist. And I bought a 2010 Mustang converible, silver per Shaman’s orders.

I thought I told you, I’m a star. See the lights; see the car.

I finally feel like I’m the right age. It’s like I’ve turned heel in the most vicious manner, like say Triple H when he just would be defeated in the early 2000’s. I’m sure I can think of an even better cocky, talented heel, but that’ll suffice at the moment. I had plans to get a car for awhile, and due to extremely convenient circumstances, I got the car I wanted. According to others, I got the car I deserved. Did I mention I celebrated by spending the night at a gentlemen’s club? Money is glorious, especially when you’re doing something you’ve been specifically trained to avoid. Salsa Club’s Smorgasport showing was also glorious, due to my candor and bravado. I’m almost close to reaching the goal of having everything I want at once. Yet, now that I have this car, I get the idea that salsa may not be everything, as trips are very much on the table. For a 22 year old, I’m certainly “balling out of control”, as some of the young folks would say. At least the young folks in my class would say something like that…eclectic, very weird bunch. Let the good times roll. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Daughtry “September”

Grad School

If the bridge between high school and college was supposed to be a shock, then I got hit by a thunderstorm at grad school.

Trust me when I say that this has been nothing less than a complete shock to my system. Now, I’m at the same university; nothing’s changed about the brick and mortar…if there was any in the first place. The faculty is vaguely familiar, since I’ve seen them in passing. My wardrobe has improved considerably, but I’m assuming that’ll pass in a few weeks. Professors treat me like an adult. Students refer to me as “Mr. Guy.” I park on the top floor of the structure, knowing that I’ll arrive after dark. Speaking of which, it’s mandatory that I stick with my cohort at all times, and I don’t mind. This is a growing experience. I’ve grown up in the span of one week.

Still, there are things that cause growing pains. For some reason, my body is failing me in ways that were once temporary. My sleeping pattern has been extremely erratic, since I can’t stay awake to save my life. Grief has racked my mind over a couple of matters that are hit or miss. Alright, one matter is definitely a miss, but eh, what the hell. The other…I saw Pippa right before I went to teach my third class. That felt awkward and threw me off my game for a mile. There were times when I begged my mind to feel some sort of emotion, such as when I received word of my father’s death. Now, I’m begging not to feel, because this isn’t exactly the time I need to feel anything other than ruthless aggression.

Back to the good…I think I’m going to like this grad school thing. I went from being an elder statesman to being the elder statesman. I did my work with Salsa Club, and I did well. Next stop, I have to prove myself to be phenomenal with teaching. So far, my students love me. I displayed a side of my personality that would net me a girlfriend if I did it consistently. I came across as honest, raw, sarcastic, witty, and self-aware. I allowed and encouraged my students to give me the universal sign for “I don’t approve.” I ripped them for major choices. I asked them to clap when I told them they could all fail. I…did everything that I should have done. My original plan was to have a series of guest hosts, but that fell through, so I rocked out with my…damn it, I’m a professor, I can’t say that anymore! It was highly unorthodox, which goes well with the students that were there. Some were boring, stiff, and quiet; others wouldn’t shut up. They all bought the system. Score.

I made a passing joke to my mentor, who said we’ll be colleagues when I get my PhD and only then, not a moment sooner. That’s something for me to look forward to, I suppose. I don’t need to be the crown jewel of this department, but being a part of the most prolific class would be nice. My social life has been forced into submission at the moment, but somehow, I look forward to disconnecting from certain people and situations that might cause me a headache. Or, maybe I’m lying. I am, however, excited that I kinda/sorta have a secretary that I like and interests me. In fact, that’s the most pleasant surprise…an ass for the ass. Jenkies. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Angels & Airwaves “Soul Survivor (…2012)”