I love the opimism with which I pack my bag at the end of the school day as if I'll be able to see the physio, buy groceries, make dinner, spend time with the family, train the juniors at karate, upload the assignment marks, write the references and redesign the exam all by 10pm.
So I went to work on Friday and there were three mathematics teachers away and another one coughing her guts out.
I told a friend.
“That doesn’t add up,” he said.
Wishing you were able to solve other people’s problems is admirable.
Helping them solve their problems themselves is top tier.
Trying to solve them when they’re completely able to do it themselves and they keep asking you to mind your own business is a sign of mental illness.
There are two ways to add 2 and 2 and get it wrong.
You can get 3.
Or you can get 4 when the noise in the zeitgeist is that 2 plus 2 is 5. That it's always been 5. Like, why would you say it wasn't 5?
This is the noise a culture makes when it's given in to the gaslighting.
Racist people do not, in my experience, have any problem with being racist. They’re totally fine with it.
They have an enormous problem, however, with you saying they’re racist.
Manflu update: You watch Once Upon A Time in Hollywood and tear up at the thought of Sharon Tate not dying and sob uncontrollably when Jake Cahill is validated by a child actor.
The unnerving thing about manflu is not the flu. It's the middle days when you've stopped getting worse but you're not yet better. The inbetweenness of being too exhausted to work but not tired enough to sleep. The twilight zone.
Head teacher, consulting attendance data: How did Dylan arrive at 9:10 and also leave the school at 9:10?
Me: That will be Mrs Schroedinger’s little boy.
Head teacher: …
Me: …
Head teacher: …
Me: I’ll show myself out.
Edward Gibbon ascribes the fall of the Roman Empire at least partly to the rise of monasticism.
It seems you can have global domination or a life of asceticism and reflection, but not both.
Sigh.
Amused by the fact that in his 1938 science fiction trilogy C.S. Lewis supposes the air on Mars and Venus was breathable. It’s quite something to reflect that this position represented the limit of interplanetary knowledge at the time as much as it was a romantic device.
At a Bollywood party in honour my Pilates teacher’s 50th birthday last night I won an award for the most competitive student.
Fortunately, I also got another award. Because, like, just one…