Leaving aside yesterday's confession regarding the wearing of someone else's pants - which I am doing right now - both the leaving aside and the wearing - I have some surprising things to report today about this week's shabby behavior.
The first is that for the first time in my life, I have had thoughts that might rightly be described as violent. I know this may come as a shock. Indeed, I am shocked myself. So i'll just get on with the business of humiliating myself by describing my recent violent thoughts (and occasional violent actions). (Yes, there was real violence, on two occasions).
One of the instances of fantasy violence involves work, so I can't describe in too much detail for fear that the one lurker I have (who happens to reside in a certain place that will remain unmentioned) could be my boss. So I'll put it this way: when you tell 80 people to complete a three part process by midnight on a specific day, you should (if you are me) expect only 38 of those people to complete it correctly. The other 42 will deviate from the directions between step 1 and 2 and nearly all of them will lie to you about it because they don't want to get a zero. The rest will contrive a narrative in which it is also somehow your (my) fault that they didn't follow the directions. By the time you have explained the directions again and again and again and again over your cell phone, which, by the way cuts out every two and a half minutes so that you have to start and stop that same phone call over and over and over again, you will be fiercely glad you live in a state such water-tight gun-control laws. In fact, there might be a provision in there that says teachers can't own firearms. I am in favor of it. Otherwise I might have been in jail by now. (The irony, of course, is that none of these miscreants lives within shooting distance. Awesome, no?)
A second instance requires no special description either because I think you all know that I threw a tuna fish sandwich against the wall the other day. Why did I do that? Well, it was disgusting, but more to the point, I had spent the remaining money I had left in the world to buy it. Why was I so short of cash? Because Panic once again, chose not to complete the paperwork to get me paid on time.
Last and finally, when I realized that my syllabus and most of my course materials were destroyed when my hard drive crashed the other week - well. After calculating the number of hours I did not have to replace all that work, I might have ripped the leg off my desk chair and thrown it at the wall. It hit the window.
It felt great.
I am not sorry.
What does this mean? I have never been like this before in my entire life. Never, ever have I wished harm to stupid people. I might have made just a little bit of fun, but I didn't want to bash their faces in for wasting my time and disrespecting the CONTRACT they signed when they entered my class. Never before have I been so childish as to throw food just because I hate it and I am mad at someone else. Never, ever have I destroyed my own furniture because I am so ever-loving OVER things sucking the ass crack of hell for no apparent reason. Never. I scare myself.
I am sure my childish fit-throwing is temporary, anyway, since as previously noted, I have never responded to stress in quite this way before.
If you care to comment,* leave out the part where you think I am dangerous and should be permanently stored in a padded room. Instead, put in stories of your own childish fit throwing. If you have ever broken your own toys, tell me today. I sort of need to hear it.
*Oh and by the way, yes. Yes, I know I have fallen off on responding to comments and visiting your blogs. I am working on it. I will be better to you all very very soon. Promise.