Running for Home - 19. October 23, 2021

October 23, 2021

I’m still off of work. The headaches have mostly receded, so I’m going to try and teach tomorrow. Hank was the one filling in for me, so he came to meet with me after classes ended to update me on things. There were no surprises, the usual quality of work handed in, the usual shit-disturbers causing ruckus. Hank did, however, compliment me on my choice of reading materials for the lit classes and the exercise the students were supposed to work on in my writer’s craft class over the past few days. He’s been teaching for a long time, so I guess I can walk away feeling a bit proud of myself.

I’ve been thinking about how this teaching gig hasn’t been as simple as I expected. The first few weeks were a complete scramble day-to-day, partly because I had a lot of shit that needed sorting out and put together to meet Emma’s planning demands, and partly because I just didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, not really. I’ve adapted at least somewhat, I guess. I think the most surprising thing in all of this is that I’m actually starting to like doing this. Seriously, I’m a bit floored by that.

I thought that I’d have a lot of trouble dealing with teenagers and their rebelliousness, immaturity and drama because I tend to be impatient as fuck and don’t take shit from anyone. It’s meant that I’ve become a bit of a disciplinarian, but things honestly seemed to have calmed down to a dull roar in my classes once the problem childs figured out I would stand my ground. At the same time, I’ve found myself having to hold in laughter sometimes at the sheer ridiculousness of the situations these kids get themselves into and the melodrama of overreactions that follows. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s dredged up a lot of memories of the past. Sifting through it all, trying to avoid the stuff I’d rather never think about again, I feel like I’m getting some more perspective on the person I was back then, and maybe what that means for me now. I’m trying to use it to inform how I’m relating to my students, but sometimes it’s just too much and I snap at them anyway.

I’ve found myself drinking more coffee than I probably should to get through the day, and I’ve started having a pot of tea after dinner for just enough of a boost to get through all the marking and planning that needs to get done. This general exhaustion is frustrating as hell because I don’t really know why it’s happening. I mean, mental/social exhaustion is understandable, but sometimes I feel physically drained too and it weirds me out. It makes it hard to motivate myself to go to the gym some days, but I’ve been doing it anyway because I know the exercise is good for me both physically and emotionally. I’m starting to get some nice results, too, so I guess that’s been a motivating factor to keep dragging my ass downstairs to work out. I shouldn’t really be surprised, though. I’ve always liked physical activities, working out included. I just don’t connect as much with the commercial gym environment so I’ve tended to stay away from it. That said, it’s not like I ever let myself get completely out of shape after Freedom Force disbanded. I had a free pass to the gym on campus at UCLA included amongst my fees while I was working on my degree so I took advantage of that, and I played intramural rugby too. It was a bit annoying at first, but once those eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds saw what this 'old man' could do on the pitch they were scrambling to get me on their teams each season.

Once Dom was back I guess I just didn’t have the motivation to work out more than once or twice a week. The gym membership was yet another casualty when money got tight. It was definitely not an essential. I’m lucky enough to have scored on the genetic lottery and have the thinness gene, anyway. But the body remembers, so even with the time away I guess it’s made it a bit easier for things to strengthen up and maybe even bulk a bit too now that I’m back on the horse. And really, it feels great. My body feels great. Well, not right now because of the injuries from being tossed through a wall, but you get the point.

Fuck, I’ll say it. I don’t just feel great. I look great. Hot. Fit. Sexy. Oh-so-fuckable. Now I just need to find the time to actually go on dates, or even just hook-ups. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not desperate. Not even close. It’s just tiring, only having porn, my hand, and a couple toys to get off with. But it’s not just getting off that I want. I guess that’s a problem, isn’t it? Who the fuck would ever want a screwed up asshole like me? Who would, other than another piece of shit like Dom? I have days where I’m convinced I’m worthy, that I deserve better. But most of the time, deep down, I still feel like I’m lower than the lowest trash. Untouchable. Unwantable. Unneedable.

Fuck, enough with this pity party.