display | more...

It has been some time since I directly addressed my personal situation on here, because I mostly eschew such things. In December, I moved 1,000 miles from my place of residence to take a job as adjunct faculty at a community college. Specifically, I was going to start a job as a instructor of GED and Adult Basic Education. While this is not quite the same as teaching Etruscan History at Princeton, I was pretty proud of myself, because I was still teaching at a college. A small college, a part time job, but I was still teaching at a college. The homesickness and stress of moving and some rather exhausting missteps in situating into my new town were all part of the price of getting to put my degree to use and help people.

In the eight months since that happened, I had a lot of things happen. I needed a root canal. Three months after moving here, I had to move again. At least three people I know committed suicide (something I may touch on later, as one of them was someone that many of you are familiar with), and there were times when I became so depressed that I faced derealization and depersonalization. But none of these things dissuaded me. But what did is that my job evaporated. My initial class had 15 students, which in the way of a GED class, was cut in half by the end of the ten week term. When I returned in the spring, I only had three students, and given their tendency for absences, there was one week late in spring term when not a single student showed up for class. My summer had only two students to start with, and since this wasn't enough to go forward with, the class was canceled. I was given the option of staying on for autumn term to see if enrollment would pick up, but decided I didn't want to take the gamble that there would be a viable class in September. So I resigned from my job, and am now going to move back home.

The most complicated thing for me to decide now is whether or not I am, as the current expression goes, a neckbeard. Teaching college is, I would hazard to say, a prestigious job. Its like I am doctor or a lawyer! Only I was only working 12 hours a week at most, and making 1000 dollars a month, maximum. My family was subsidizing this adventure. And now, having spent a lot of money and time, I am crawling back to a life of unemployment. I think that I have made some progress this year in building up my self-discipline, yet I also feel that I am continuing my eternal adolescence. Right now, I am not thinking too much about that, partially because the logistics of moving are occupying me. However, over the coming weeks and months I will probably spend a lot time wondering what the past eight months have changed about me, and what to do with what I learned.

On loneliness

Sunday, not a good day. I got early and had breakfast with mom and little brother. Then we went to pick up big brother who came from Puebla to spend some time with the family. We spent the day together, my mom bought me a new bag for my laptop and I started the metaphorically long trip back home (Or away from it? I really don't know) I arrived at the bunker exactly at 8PM

I announced mom that I was safe and sound and laid in my bed for an hour. I didn't want to sleep, I was just checking obsessively Facebook and Whatsapp to see whether someone might have left me a message of any kind. Nobody did. I wanted to message my friends to wish them a good night and a nice week start, but for the first time in a year or so, I refrained to do it.

I don't want to feel them wishing me a good week as a re-action. I want them to proactively remember me and bother at least asking me how my day was.

Talking about problems is hard, even to friends. I always tell them about the usual problems (shitty job, sentimental status, etc) but not the really bad stuff. I fear that they may knock it off as unimportant and/or flee me.

It's happened before

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.