312/365

quiet monday night tacos
for dinner yogurt instead
of sour cream watched our
show why am i always almost
crying they work out weak from
her booster the other one in
her room reading about the holocaust
strumming a guitar whispering soft
songs too tired to do any work woke
up at four am to watch my team lose
a close game we needed to win all this doubt
making it hard to love myself ambition
taking its toll out here beyond the comfort zone
will be early to bed to catch up on reading hoping
there will be no dreams tonight we all
need a bit of silent darkness in between days.

299/365

snotty nosed
weak limbed
burning eyed
soar necked
irritable bowled
down right exhausted
already on a tuesday-

went to the fancy gothic
bar and restaurant
for a few drinks and nibbles.
never letting the grind
get us down. the very acts
of our lives our poetry
even when we gently
nudge the simplest boundaries.
surrender has never been an option.

278/365

head ache.
pained tooth.
sore neck.
long day.
team loss.
midweek.
doom scroll.
unproductive.
bored.
malaise.
good book.
iced cream.
early to bed.
next day.
do over.

249/365

not sure if the brain is meant
to handle such a load.
everyday, stretching and lifting,
finding balance. chasing goals.

it’s not like you’re some kind of
rocket scientist or emergency room doctor,
you’re not on the front lines in afghanistan,
or a lawyer arguing a class action suit against an
evil corporation. you’re just
a middle school english teacher.

why then does it feel like the weight of the world
is on these shoulders. monday wrapped up
in local calamities and familiar anxieties.

the future is planted in schools.
this gardener has forgotten
the sweet aroma of flowers,
bogged down in documents
and tables and scopes and sequences.

not sure if the brain is meant
to handle such a load.
but it can and it does and it will. 

126/365

tried
of being
tired
and busy
or overwhelmed.
tried
of being
tied down
and feeling
restricted
by responsibility,
freedom is right there
in front of us
for those who are brave
enough to grab it  
and let it pour over them
like a line of shot glasses
on a bar,
a punk chord progression
aggressively played
through the headphones
a grunt
a scream
on a stage
at home.

tried
of being
tired. 

Tired Writing

So close to the end of the year and I am running out of things to say. I am bored with on what’s on my mind, and no amount of writing about it will freshen it up- or so it feels. I needed a break from politics, so I broke my ankle. And now I need a break from my break.


There is a general aching discomfort and I am mindful of every step. I had a strange prickling burning sensation on the top of my foot all day, and a call to the doctor confirmed that it is normal and okay- the nerves are being pushed together due to swelling.


I wore a sock today and that felt like a victory, but like I said talking about my foot is more boring than dwelling on more Trump gaffs.


One thing I am not bored by are the Raiders. I have taken this fandom to new levels, by liking their official Facebook page and so now I get to see random practice videos, news conferences, cool photos, and more…I’m not gonna lie, I feel like an eight year old fan again. I am literally counting the hours before the Thursday night game against the Chief. We could be 11-2 atop the division and the conference and looking at home field in the playoffs.


But I am no sports writer, and while gushing over my favorite football team is a fun distraction, I know I can’t do it every night.


So what do I need to write about on this Wednesday night in the penultimate week of school before the holiday break?


Besides Trump, pain and football what else is on my mind?


The Bruce Springsteen biography is coming along nicely. It’s not a book that is going to change your life in terms of content or craft, but it is an fascinating life story told in a clear and passionate way.


The Boss can obviously write and I am learning a lot about him. To me, as a child of the eighties, Springsteen was a mainstream hit machine. I grew up in he Born In The USA era and he was safe and comfortable and all-american. So it is interesting to read about how he felt like an outsider in his small blue-collar town. He was a long haired weirdo trying to find himself in Greenwich Village and San Francisco in the late sixties, only to realize that his true self was back in Jersey.


He was also a helluva hard worker. And his persistence to his craft was admirable.


Bojack Horseman continues to be amazing. I am a third of the way through season three and loving every episode. Not watching much else TV or movies these days.


So I guess I am in a state of recovery. A holding pattern. A held breath. A state anticipation until the next stage. It has been great to be back at school and interacting with 11 &12 year olds. I had another full day today and it felt better and tomorrow will be a busy one with an assembly and two UN performances by my own kids, but the end is within sight.


We, the collective we- me, Mairin, family, students, all of you, are tired. And this is tired writing, but no night shall be left without words. Right? I made a promise.


Hoping for some inspiration soon. If nothing else the Raiders will shake things up in a few days.

Long and Grey and Uneventful

Yesterday felt like a step, a hobbled one perhaps, but a step nonetheless in the right direction. I was feeling hopeful and ready to put the month of November and most of 2016 behind me.


Today? Not so much.


I never bathed. Never got out of my pyjamas. Woke up in a state of confusion well after 10am. Gave up quickly after trying to mark a few grade 6 stories. I got lost in the Twitter Trump-pit. (The dude is now RTing from the accounts of 16 year olds, and showing off his new hat.)

How are we going to survive as a nation without all wanting to tear our eyeballs out every few hours? The ugly American is real, he is everywhere and he is in charge of some pretty important shit.

I let it all get me down.
I tried to turn of the noise and focus on Bojack Horseman, but that only carried me so far.
The day was long and grey and uneventful. My ankle was throbbing, but I forced it to walk around the house a few times in silence.


I felt a heavy dense sense of shame and uselessness when Mairin and the kids got home. Is this what they mean when they say rest is good for you? Because I am ready to be back in the swing of things.


I am sorry for saying that I was tired.
I just want to be at the meetings and planning the lessons and shooting the shit at lunch time. I want to see the smiling faces of kids as I teach them things they could care less about.


Tomorrow is another day. Some big things happening: I will shave. I will shower and actually put on “outside” clothes. I will take a cab to the hospital and hopefully get the okay from the doctor for more mobility.

To Be Seen

I helped a boy try to find his way onto a football field. He was nervous and scared and lonely and unsure how to approach the alphas and their thirst for blood. He is a sensitive boy who just needs to be seen.

I spoke to a girl’s parents, telling them how much progress she has made. I had goosebumps praising her and she looked as if she were about to cry, as her eyes whispered thank you.

I taught a group of kids the basic principles of a semi-colon; it was late in the afternoon.

I commiserated with tired teachers. I read about empowered Nazis. I did not notice the sky or breathe in deep. I listened to Leonard Cohen. I jumped into a Facebook feed and was confused and perplexed and left without closure.

I watched the Walking Dead, drank one glass of red wine and revelled in the fact that the Raiders are 8-2.

I joked. I sighed. I reprimanded. I taught. I built. I destroyed.

It was one more day in a series of days.

And now sleep.

Tolerance

Thank you for your concern. After my slightly dour post last night, several of you sent me private messages or came to check on me in person today. I felt others were treating me pretty gently today. I appreciate the support, but just know that I am fine. I am tried and stretched a bit thin and running out of things to say on some night when the gas tank is empty, but overall my moods are in flux. I hope that when I look back on the 365 posts I will have written this year that the trend is happy, hopeful, and hard working, but of course there will be a few posts like last night’s.

How could there not be?

I think most of us mask our funks, but I have chosen to give voice to every day and every emotion, so sometimes those voices sounds low and sad and upset, but that is not the complete picture.

I feel that I am in a state of metamorphosis these days. I have some big plans for the new year and I am sitting with them for this time period in a cocoon to see if I really want to commit to them or not.

I am riding out a stretch of working for twenty plus days without a weekend and after tomorrow night’s three-way conferences with parents, there will be some respite. The light at the end of this tunnel, that begin ironically on November 8th, is here tomorrow, so I will try and give voice to the other voices in my head.

…

The intolerant among us are claiming that the tolerant among us are being intolerant toward the intolerant among us.

So much so that the tolerant among us are starting to feel intolerant toward the intolerant among us.

I know for sure, because as someone who thinks of himself as the tolerant among us,

I am feeling quite intolerant against the intolerant among us even as they ask for tolerance from the tolerant among us.

But if the intolerant among us really wanted tolerance from the tolerant among us, they could start by showing a little tolerance toward the tolerant among us.

And as the tolerant among us, if our true nature is tolerance then shouldn’t we show some tolerance toward the intolerant among us?

But this is so hard, because by the very nature of tolerance, the tolerant among us have a hard time facing the intolerant among us,

because by the nature of the intolerant among us, the existence of the tolerant among us is in jeopardy.

Tolerance cannot survive with intolerance.

Intolerance can only be destroyed by tolerance.

This is our bind.

Don't Want

There is nothing here. The well is dry and no amount of youtube clips are sparking anything, because the input from the outside is toxic. Childish Gambino on the headphones, eyes closed, listening to the swirling synths and hand clap beats.

I don’t want to do this tonight. I don’t want to make meaning or try to connect or inspire. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to reflect or feel or stay consistent or maintain this habit or continue playing this game. I don’t want. I don’t want anything.


I don’t want to be social or professionally developed. I don’t want to be seen or heard and understood. I don’t want you reading this or liking it or caring or wondering if I’m okay. I don’t want to be predictable or boring or interesting. I don’t want to make sense. I don’t want to teach or plan or meet or be present. I don’t want to run. I don’t want. I don’t want anything.

There is nothing here, but a looming Monday and the next day, the next week. And an uncertain future.

This Way

I’m not eating well; my addiction to the McDonald’s Mc Crunch knows no bounds. I am back to eating Indian everyday instead of salads. I can barely remember the last time I ran and cannot remember the last time I enjoyed it. I have a half-marathon coming up and at this point I might just walk the whole thing in some weird pre-dawn act of cleansing and meditation.


I haven’t read any YA and have been taking forever to read Here I Am, the latest novel, by Jonathan Safron Foer. I can’t stop reading articles and tweets about the Trump transition team and the circus that surrounds it. I am a political junkie and while I thought things wold ease up after November 8th, I am now realizing I need a more sustainable plan for how I will handle the next four years. I cannot spend this much energy on anger and frustration.


I am not parenting well. Not spending quality time with my kids. Not talking to them deeply or listening closely. I am there but distracted. I haven't been the best friend. Beyond shouting my daily rants, I haven’t touched based or written long personal emails to friends who matter. My teaching feels mediocre and I don’t feel 100% connected or present- in the planning or delivery of my work.


I’m barely playing guitar, beyond a few strums in the morning, and I haven’t done an open mic all year. There aren’t a batch of songs that I am trying to master. The chords feel shrill and discordant. My voice shallow and off key.


I lack confidence in how I look, feel and walk. I feel like I am wearing a thin mask which only reveals my insecurities and frustration with my mood. The days are running into weeks and months.


I have been eating many many baked goods and donuts and barely register vegan guilt as I do. I have made it okay to “cheat” here and there and then there and there again and again. I eat chocolate and have forgotten where I put my soapbox.


I haven’t been paying enough attention to my wife. Asking her how she is. Offering to help out. Giving her gentle kisses or nudges or any indication that I care about anything but myself.


I have been selfish and self-loathing to a point of delirium.


I am not sure where or how this downward spiral began, but I look forward to crawling out of it soon. I have set January 1st for some hard changes. I know I should start now, but I am allowing myself the luxury wallowing for a few more weeks.


It’s Wednesday after a 13 hour day, sandwiched between two working weekends in November and all is as it should be. I can’t imagine too many teachers who aren’t feeling this way.

Wrestling and Build-A-Bear

That was a big Friday.


It is almost 1am and a night of wrestling has got my throat hoarse. It was a good time as usual watching the SPW (Singaporean Professional Wrestling) but now is not the time for the compete post about the experience. We left straight from the school kid’s trick or treat event and hung out a bit at a hawker for a few beers after.


Ran a meeting in the morning, taught a few classes on mentor texts, caught up on email, tried to pick up the reigns from Karl Wilcox and get Movember going this year, and then trick or treat and wrestling. That’s about all I have in my tank.


My bed is calling and tomorrow is not messing around either. Skyelar's never ending birthday continues with her friend's party at-A-Bear.


This whole Oregon acquittal and the Dakota pipeline stuff has got me angry something fierce, but will hold off on writing on that till later too.

Edison Bulbs

It feels like someone scooped out my throat with a ice cream scooper. It was Friday, but I inched across the finish line. The smart man, would have gone home straight from school and crawled under the covers, but I chose to shred and burn, then have a few beers at Burps, then walk the Frolf course with the dudes, then head over to Steven and Katy’s for some group Stranger Things viewing with Keri-Lee and Miles. Had some chips, olives, wine and port.

It was an afternoon and evening of mellow conversations, sunsets and television. Two days off and not much to do, but hope I don’t lose my voice completely, because although I always dreamed of losing my voice as a kid, it is actually pretty inconvenient.

…

The other day I was in Off Tangent with some students and one girl on the design team was sketching out some optional new covers. She had drawn some light bulbs and while looking over her shoulder, I said, “That would be a cool image. Have you ever heard of Edison bulbs?”

“You mean the ones in all the hipster coffee shops?”

Yes. Yes. That is exactly what I mean. We teach some crazy wicked cool kids.

…

Good night world. See you tomorrow.

Another Mandala

I’m not sure you could call what I did today running, seeing that I walked for a lot of the way, but I decided to run home from school today. It was more of a 6.5km shuffle, but it's a start. There were moments of degrading and uncontrollable self-loathing for letting myself lapse to the point of basically starting over, followed by moments of Terry Foxian resolve and determination to get back to the half-marathon state I was in last May. My legs feel okay, heart and lungs are fine, it’s just my head that won’t stop asking, “Why are you doing this again?” I need to convince myself again that I like this torture.


…


I have a canker sore in my mouth that is making the eating of chocolate difficult.


I wish there was something new to try with my facial hair. I am over having it or not having. I am over beards, goatees, soul patches, moustaches. I am over my hair too and over my face and sometimes over myself. How do people go through years of their life looking exactly the same? Being the same?


…


The global narrative- Pipe bombs in Chelsea. Trump. Whatever else is going on is tiresome as well. We are talking to our students about UN development goals and peace and so many beautiful things, while people on Twitter are bitching about not being able to carry guns to kill suspected terrorists, while wishing that they could hang and castrate them in the streets. Ignorance and injustice and anger and violence seem so simple to cure, but we never seem to get the hang of it.


…


Maybe writing on a Monday night suffering from an irritable mouth, while tired and bored, with a slight headache and achy legs, and sore joints and an overall sense of the blahs does not make for interesting writing.


Everyday cannot be filled with rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes life is just a bout against tedious boredom. A maniacal monotony that pounds then hums, leaving giant bruises on your psyche. Wake up. Do the thing. Then that one. Eat lunch. Drink water. Do the thing. Then that one. Eat dinner. Put the kids to bed. Do the thing. Then that one.


Remember your life. Remember you're alive. Remember the days in the woods and under the sea. The cool breezes and setting suns. The full moons. The gentle kisses. The moments of exuberance and joy. Remember the trembling and the fear and the thrill of seeing. Being.


This too shall pass says the monk sweeping away another mandala.


Oh and the Raiders lost a game they should have one. 1-1 here we go.

Sweet Sweet Sleep

Well that was a week!
Holy smokes.


Not only did I somehow survive, I actually shredded and burned after school, to the point where my muscles are sore and I feel a bit crushed. Thanks for that Mairin. Great idea.


Why wouldn’t I want to do “plank jumping jacks” after returning from a whirlwind trip to CA and a crazy week of assemblies, meetings and coffee mornings? But no matter how exhausting this week was, it was all worth it and rewarding. This level of intensity would not be possible if we all didn’t love what we do.


After getting home and taking a shower, it quickly became apparent that there was no way we would be going to a friend’s house for some drinks, and even getting through a few episodes of Orange Is The New Black feels a bit strenuous.


The three day weekend is here and it couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s not even nine, pyjamas are on, and I might even be too tired for wine. I’m looking forward to crawling into bed and giving in to the sweet sweet sleep.

Back At It

It’s 10:00pm and I am in Shanghai on the tail-end of my six hour layover. I’ve watched two movies, had coffee, juice, a muffin and some fruit. The Pudong airport is an embarrassment as large city airports go. There is nothing to do here. Nowhere to get a decent meal or a drink. The lighting is hard and fluorescent and there is a quiet dreary fog that lingers over everything and everyone. I am a short five hour flight from home and I’m already excited about landing in Singapore, heading home, taking a shower and starting my teaching day….on Tuesday. Wow. Tuesday already.


Too soon to predict what that is going to look like, but I’m sure it will be fine. It is crazy what our minds and bodies can do when we put them to the test. All this travel reminds me of the double shifts and night classes back in my college restaurant days. I would work twelve hour days and party and study and run my life like it didn’t have a purpose, but in the end, no matter how late I stayed up or how early I had to wake, I made it work, so this little jaunt across the Pacific will be no different. Sure I am twenty years older and the body handles abuse in different ways, but I will survive.


The difference these days, I guess, is that there is a purpose, or at least a direction. The school year has just begun and it is time to get back to it. I miss my own kids and the brief Skype chat earlier reminded me how vivacious and full of life they are. Looking forward to a skate session this week. Signing up for the half-marathon in December and finally getting back into my routine of running. It has been too long and my body is in for a rude reminder.


After a death and a celebration of life, we owe it to those who have passed to live even more fully. Take advantage of each day as it passes. No matter how cliche it might seem, we are here if for no other reason, than to enjoy life and live it with tenacity and purpose. Even though, I currently feel like a flat tire, I am looking forward to pumping myself up, after a few solid 10 hour sleep sessions, and moving forward to whatever uncertain future will have me.


I cannot post this update right now because I am in China and the Internet is blocked, but I’ll get it up on the webz before I head off to work in a few hours. The daily writing doesn’t stop because of air travel or blocked Internet.


The words are blurry and screen is bright The mood is low and the air filled with fatigued, but we are here and alive, breathing, so the show must go on.


Author's note- 6:07 am at home, getting ready for breakfast, showers and school. Here goes nothing.

Next Stop Home

It hasn’t really hit me. What’s about to happen. After a fourteen hour day, I am about to get on a 27 hour flight. I am most looking forward to my time at Shanghai airport for six hours somewhere around dawn. I suppose in a way I am looking forward to getting a taste of what insanity might looks like. But really, at the end of the day, every experience is really just another good story. So in a bizarre way I am looking forward to the pain and misery of what is about to happen.


I will make my way through it and be in San Francisco. I will be with people I love, in a home I love. I am slowly shutting down my work brain, although it is flying at 100mph right now, and trying to unwind. Focus back on myself and my thoughts and my needs.


Thank you everyone who has ben so kind and thoughtful and supportive. I am not trying to martyr myself and it feels strange to live so openly with these post and then see people everyday at work, but thanks for reading and listening and being there.It means a lot.


Next stop. Home.

A Few Things

Not much to say about today. Went to the mall and bought Skye some school shoes. Went to school to do a few things to get ready for school. Answered a few emails and fixed some issues that needed fixing. Talked to friends far away about things that needed to be talked about. Then talked to my dad for the first time since the start of summer.

The world is spinning in uncertain and weird mojo, but we still spent a few hours with Lee and Cindy, Ben and Alina. Chatting and enjoying the night. Now, exhausted and ready for sleep. Here’s hoping for a good dream. It’s been a while and I could go for a good ride.

Fading

There is a slight chance that I am sick, which is perfect timing, seeing that we have our first day of teachers back at school tomorrow, or maybe the jet lag I have been bragging that I have overcome is catching up to me, but headache, achey, sneezy and all around blah is the pervasive mood this Sunday evening. 

Water is on for Thera-Flu. A bit of the ole Youtube and off to bed. 

In other news, great lazy day spent by the pool catching up with friends. With that the summer is officially over. It was a good one and I am ready to begin the 2016/2017 school year. This is my sixteenth year teaching. Wow! When the hell did that happen? Here’s looking forward to learning more than I teach and honing this craft even more. Hopefully feeling at least 75% tomorrow. 

Jet Lag Fringe

Brain feels a bit mushy.

Landed last night, this morning, at 3am. We were home and a sleep shortly after. Woke up around 8 feeling pretty good. Went to Wild Honey for brunch, had a Bloody Mary. Then did some quick shopping and I got my haircut. Came home to unpack a bit and dinner at East Coast Park with Steven and Katy.

Nice to have a quick catch up, but it is 8:05pm- it is pitch black outside and I am fading fast. No time or energy left for anything meaningful to say tonight.

I am a bit nervous for the amount of things that have to be done to be ready for work next week, but I will assume that it will get done. I hope to pop by school tomorrow to get a sense of how my classroom is looking, seeing that I had to move, and start getting a few things in order.

I am very much looking forward to sometime away from my own kids and catching up with the rest of our friends here in Singapore.

And now sleep, hopefully till the morning.