Livin' Like a Family of One: Puck You

I work about 44 hours a day.

I don't necessarily have to, but I choose to for some reason. I guess because I prefer to work inefficiently when I'm preparing and I choose to leave no loose ends in the implementation period, which does not work. 'Cause it's all loose. Today I tried to amp myself up by helping myself to 2 "strong Americanos" from the teacher's lounge (which is actually just a dumpy kitchen with a printer wedged into it). Well, suffice to say it shot my heart in the balls and I had a great time weirding out the classes quite uncontrollably. I let Dae Yeon ride me because they told me to pretend I was a hippo. I watched this from outside of my body thinking "I shoulda been my teacher."

I've been on this kick of buying music from iTunes recently. And I can never buy just one album, I buy all of them. I've only spent about $50 doing so so far (Lake Street Dive, Nightmare & the Cat), so I'm not sure if I can actually call it any sort of proper "kick" yet, but there's a pending $40 purchase in my heart (The Shivers). The thing is, there aren't that many times when I'm jammin' to music. I think it just fills my soul with a comforting feeling to know that I've amassed the music I may want to listen to should the feeling ever come up. Charlotte gave me a shit ton of Neil Young and I really have never gotten into him, but I don't want to delete it because I might want it someday. So it's a bummer when my iTunes randomizer selects his nasally whiney voice every 4 songs or so.

Big time problems, you know?

I inherited a class of assholes last Monday. They're a bunch of delinquents and jerks, and they wasted no time flipping me off and calling me ugly. This was a bummer, especially because the class I gave up for them was 1/3 of their size and all super sweet, smart and fun girls. But if someone has to have 'em, I guess I will. In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing. Just a bummer. On the bright side, when they say "Puck you," I'm delighted at how stupid they sound. I think I'll get a squirt gun.

I had amazing Indian food last night. I've never really made this claim-whether internally or to a bus driver-but I love Indian food. Spicey and sloppy and fulla chunks of God knows what. Yeah. Give it up. Gimme that curry, Murray.

A few Saturdays ago, I was scheduled to go to a little Olympics day at an orphanage in Andong. It got rained out, allowing me to go on a scavenger hunt around town. But it's back on for this Saturday, and I'm stoked. It's been a few weeks since I've left town, and I'm interested to do something for kids that isn't based on how well they say "Who took Don's lock?" In fact, I'll be juggling. I'm a little nervous because I presented the idea thinking I'd be at one of the stations and I could teach kids how to juggle. Instead, I'm giving a show. I'm not a good enough juggler to do this, so I've been practicing. Tonight, I was practicing my 3-ball variations (claw grabs and throws) for about 40 minutes when my phone rang. My phone hardly ever rings 'cause everyone texts. It was my principal/landlord/neighbor. He said there was a loud sound coming from my APT. It took a second to register that it was the balls hitting the ground, so we cleared that up. He told me he thought I was punching the wall. "Nope. Just jugglin'." A laugh was had and he went home. This was about an hour ago, and I'm still laughing at the thought that he imagined me punching my walls at irregular intervals for the better part of an hour.

I have a beard now. I like it, especially 'cause I was lead to believe it would not be allowed here. Score one for the hairy guys, y'all.

It's freezing in here, too.

I'm eating salads all the time, but I should move on to curry.

Curry.

Things I Need