Distractions

I'm sitting here at work with two kids' programs in front of me.
I need to come up with a Health lesson for our he/she student, which shouldn't be hard to do.
Puberty for boys... and girls?
I need to assign our twelve-year-old gang enthusiast something for Life Management.
Some video about prison maybe. Preferably with allusions to butt-sex.
The sixteen-year old father of two needs a rewrite since he doesn't make it to class enough. He's too busy working two jobs and spending the wee hours of the morning placating the egos of two hormonal, drama-ridden females.
But I keep getting distracted.

I keep staring out the window at my beautiful new car that will most likely commence to killing me every month for the next five years while my credit score builds and builds and I pay loads of money to "the man."
But who cares. When I leave this place at 4pm, all the angst and negativity just melts away. I crank my mix cd, and drive my mind far away home.

Life Expectancy

How can the life expectancy in this country be so high if people routinely practice lifestyles that are pretty much designed to kill them?
Smoking, drinking, junk food, drugs, sex, anorexia, carbonated beverages, tattoos, sedentary lifestyles, salt, sugar, Red Bull.
And then there are other things we continually do that kill ourselves in other ways.
Lying, cheating, passing judgment, gossiping, stealing, manipulating, being selfish, being stingy, and sometimes just plain being difficult.

Last night I was standing outside by my car and I could have sworn I heard this ticking noise. It sounded like the second hand on a clock. I kept moving around, stepping quietly in different directions trying to find the origin of this ticking-clicking noise. But every time I took another pink panther step in any direction I couldn't hear it anymore.
I was trying to decide whether or not it was the "beating of his hideous heart!" when I decided that, even better, it was my ticking clock revealing itself to me. It was counting out how much time I had to live.
And while that "new anxiety seized me" I kinda started to spazz out. Because seriously, some day I won't exist. And everything I do now does have an effect on that.

...Have I ever mentioned to you how mortified I am of death?

An Ode to Valentines Day 08

Love grows in me like a tumor,
parasite bent on devouring its host.
I'm developing my sense of humor,
till I can laugh at my heart between your teeth,
till I can laugh at my face beneath your feet.

Skillet on the stove; its such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the lucky one that doesnt get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?

Love plows through me like a dozer,
I've got more give than a bale of hay,
and there's always a big mess left over.
What did you do?What did you say?

Skillet on the stove is such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the special one that doesnt get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?

Love tears me up like a demon.
Opens the wounds and then fills them with lead,
and I'm having some trouble just breathing.
If we werent such good friends I think that I'd hate you.
If we weren't such good friends I'd wish you were dead.

Oh it's so embarrasing
I'm this awkward and uncomprable thing,
and I'm running out of places to hide it
I'm running out of places to hide it...

--Jenny Owen Youngs