Alright, I give up…damn, that hurt. Last semester, I took a beating that left me emotionally and physically crippled beyond repair. I achieved my dream of becoming a cult hero amongst my friends, classmates, and students for the lack of regard I had towards living. Mind you, I wasn’t suicidal, but I was pretty damn close depending on how many tasks I took on, destroyed, and left in my wake. However, all of that came with a price, and as such, I’m not teaching this semester. A side of me is heartbroken, because I miss the influence of standing in front of my class and teaching them how to be more productive members of society. On the other hand, I really took a beating. Few times I’ll admit to being overwhelmed. Last year around this time is comparable, and even so, this time was worse. The closest sports scenario is when Oscar De La Hoya fought Bernard Hopkins, and was caught with a shot to the ribs. De La Hoya said he had the energy to continue fighting, but that blow crippled him and overpowered his will. The boxer couldn’t stand up because of the severe damage taken to his liver. That’s roughly how I felt, so I couldn’t feel sorry for myself. I took a beating, and well, the shit nearly killed me. The department folks acted in my best interests, and I’m sure I’ll thank them for that one of these days. Could I have gone another semester at that pace? I’m positive I could, but realistically, taking this semester off from teaching will allow me to freshen up my act and come back more motivated.
Because working for a racist nimrod isn’t the way my story ends.
After the cider, I find myself wondering where to go next. Okay, I lied. I’m still taking classes, I’m still driving the Mustang, and I still have a bucket list of things need to be done. Of course, there is humor involved. I got a girl’s number at a wrestling event, and the number turned out to be fake. Sure enough, the next event I attended, she’s there. That had to suck, but karma’s a bitch to those who run afoul of it. Speaking of which, I’m not sure if my personal life is picking up or not. While I tend to lean optimistic, I’m something of a realist who thinks realistically. Valentine’s Day is a shade under a week away, and I probably can’t come up with a date or plan, which is ironic, since this is the first year I have the money to do something memorable. I’m still watching a couple of angles because that’s what I’ve been trained to do, so who knows? After all, I drive a Mustang and according to some, I have a certain charm that exudes a magnetic personality. The injuries I sustained last year should have been enough to keep me grounded, and for the record, I did learn from what happened. It doesn’t mean for one second that I intend to take my foot off the gas, as the Green Bay Packers didn’t en route to the Lombardi Trophy. For now, I’ll savor the rest, take some time and work on my beautiful car, since there’s striping and interior design that needs to be handled. Needs was probably an overstatement, but there’s a certain joy I get when I put on my jacket, hop inside, and sing to showtunes. I’ll consider that I still occasionally run into the first girl who stole my heart, smile, and ponder over Dr. Cornel West’s musings about life, since the man told the truth about what’s going on these days and what we can do individually to better ourselves. I see myself at the top of my game, unapologetic for where I’ve been, how I got to the dance, and where I will proceed to go from here. I see myself with an eclectic group of friends who make me question why I have such horrid choice in friends, then grin and accept it. Lastly, I see myself with my girlfriend in the passenger seat of the car I built. Three days ago, I stood empowering a potential comrade in the battle for everything. Two days ago, I sat enjoying the game and pondering the moment where I hold my belt high before the world. Yesterday, I watched as my conniving boss threw arrows my way while I shrugged them off. Today, I dine in hell. Scooby Snacks. Skibbedebebop. Much later.
Current Track – Elton John “Tiny Dancer”